“I am actually a Travester,” Hern confesses as we make our way home to the Cerel district.

“What?” My mind is dazed and it’s hard to take it in.

“Oh yes,” he continues, “I dye my hair, you know. I’ve lived like a Cerel for years, ever since I fell in love with a Cerel woman, many years ago. I went to live with her family, and even though my wife ran away with another fellow, I’ve stayed on.” He makes a snickering noise. “Anyhow, I prefer Cerels.”

We stop in Market Square and Hern makes me sit on a step while he goes over to a stall and fetches two mugs of chicory, thick with cream, and a paper cone of warm honey cakes.

“Go on,” he says. “You’ll feel better if you eat.”

Eating is the last thing I want to do as I numbly cradle the warm mug between my hands. The chicory makes me think of Boss, and the Director’s house. I see the Director’s new socks, his polished shoes, and there’s a cold, dead feeling in my heart. I know I have to go back home to Nanna, but how can I tell her about … Along with Jorzy being taken, I’m afraid this latest news might destroy her. Thank the gods Marina is safely out of the city.

“Just a nibble,” Hern presses, holding out the cone of greasy honey cakes. I shake my head, thinking I’ll be sick.

“There’s something I have to do …” The words come out with difficulty.

Swallowing a mouthful of the chicory seems to help, to give me some strength. It’s cloyingly sweet. Yet it seems so wrong to be drinking a creamy, sweet beverage while my mother lies dead on the flagstones outside the House of Law and Jorzy is … nobody knows where he is. With a shudder, I force myself to take another few sips of the chicory.

“You know our building, right?”

“Oh yes,” says Hern. “I sometimes visit your nanna. In fact, I used to visit before your father was taken away, when you were still toddling around in nappies.”

“Can you go and tell Nanna what has happened?”

The man is confused. “But won’t you want to – I mean, your family–”

“There’s something I have to do,” I repeat, handing him the mug, still half-full. The cone of honey cakes lies untouched on the step. “Please?

Hern stands up and absentmindedly touches his forehead. He has lost his hat in the tumult and I can see where his hair is growing back pale under the black dye.

“Of course, of course, if that’s what you want.”

Shoving my hands into my pockets, I’m about to head off when Hern’s reedy voice makes me pause.

“Y-you won’t do anything reckless, will you, Leho?”