Fly Up into the Night Air by John Houser Read Free Book Online Page A

incongruous, finely made table surrounded by crude wooden chairs.
    Sister Grace motioned for them to sit down. "May I offer you tea?" As she turned away to pick up a tea service from her desk, Griff violently shook his head.
    Harte frowned at him, not wanting to be rude. "Certainly. Thank you very much."
    Sister Grace turned back and set a cup before each man. "Thank you for coming to see Raf. I'm sorry I have not been available to greet you on your previous visits. Sister Magda tells me that you have seen the boy twice. I'm grateful for your interest."
    Harte took a sip of tea and nearly spat it out again. Griff grinned.
    "Oh dear. I'm afraid I may have made the tea a little strong again. It's an old habit you see. Strong tea for long nights in the wards. It's good for keeping an old nurse awake, but not a very social drink."
    "Oh no. It's quite all right. I like mine strong," Harte managed. "It's a bit unexpected is all. If you don't mind, what was it that made you think to send that note to me? I'm not the best known of Walford's Crossing's presenter advocates--being new at it."
    "I knew your mother, you see, before I became a sister. She'd not remember me, but we attended dancing lessons together, a very long time ago. Your mother was quite passionate about things that other girls of her class were not passionate about: art, history, what to do about the Canny. We got along."
    "Dancing lessons. I shall have to ask Mother about that."
    "There was another reason. You made an argument, in front of the town council last year, which was reported to me. You argued against the practice of allowing parties to a case to hire the magistrate or judge veritor. I heard you were quite compelling. But I'm not surprised you were not successful; the council will have to pay if the parties don't."
    "I'm surprised that you follow such issues," Harte admitted. "I have found it hard to interest my colleagues. Short of announcing that there's a canny spy in chambers, it's difficult to wake them from their complacence."
    "They are not complacent, they attend to their self-interest," said Griff.
    "We who serve the poor must attend to politics as well--if we are to be effective," said Sister Grace.
    "It seems that you have had help staying informed." Harte eyed Griff speculatively. Griff looked back, wide-eyed.
    "God provides," said Sister Grace, watching Griff.
    "Hmm." Harte blew gently on his tea. "How can I help you, today?"
    Sister Grace would not be hurried. She sipped her tea before continuing. "I understand that you have made inquiries into the incident during which Raf was beaten."
    "Yes. I, we--Griff and I have made inquiries. I'm afraid we have not discovered the culprits, yet."
    "I wonder if it has occurred to you ..." Sister Grace put down her tea and made a minute adjustment to her wimple. "I fear that Raf will be called to God soon. If he is, the issue of his beating could take on rather more weight, don't you think? One could argue that his death was the responsibility of the man who beat him. I am not a legal scholar as you are, so I cannot speak to the law, but I can speak to the moral issue."
    "Yes, and capital cases require a judge veritor. But it would be a difficult argument to win. There is little precedent to support such a position, and cases are won and lost on the sympathy of the council of court. The advocate would be certain to paint Raf as immoral, as a mere--" His face grew hot. "You are aware how Raf made his living?"
    Sister Grace pursed her lips. "One cannot serve the poor for very long without coming to some understanding of the ways they are led into temptation and depravity."
    "Yes, I suppose." Harte let his eyes wonder around the room where they came to rest on the cloth covered altar at the back of the room. "They would use that against him, you see, as they would anything else they thought would gain them traction with the council of court."
    "Raf is not a bad sort," interjected Griff. "He's been trying to