The Golem and the Djinni. Helene Wecker

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СКАЧАТЬ “Pay up,” someone called.

      “I don’t have any money,” she said.

      A hard laugh ran through the crowd. They wanted her to be punished; they wanted her to pay. They were flinging their angry desires at her like stones.

      Panic filled her—and then, strangely, it ebbed away. She felt as though time was slowing, stretching. Colors grew sharper, more focused. The low sun seemed bright as noon. Fetch a policeman, someone called, and the words were slurred, elongated. She closed her eyes, feeling as though she were on the edge of an abyss, teetering, about to fall.

      “That won’t be necessary,” said a voice.

      Instantly the crowd’s attention shifted—and the Golem felt the abyss recede. Relieved, she opened her eyes.

      It was the old man in the black coat, the one who’d been watching her. He was coming quickly through the onlookers, concern on his face. “Will this pay for your knish?” he asked, and handed the man a coin. Then, slowly, as though not to startle her, he placed a hand on the Golem’s arm. “Come with me, my dear,” he said. His voice was quiet, but firm.

      Did she have a choice? It was either he, or the crowd. Slowly she stepped toward the old man, away from her accuser, who stood frowning at the coin.

      “But this is too much,” her accuser said.

      “Then do something good with the rest,” replied the old man.

      The crowd began to disperse, some clearly feeling they’d been robbed of entertainment. Soon it was just the two of them, together on the sidewalk.

      He regarded her again as he had in the cart’s shadow. Then he leaned forward, and seemed to sniff the air around her. “As I thought,” he said, a touch regretful. “You’re a golem.”

      Shocked, she took a step back, ready to run. “No, please,” he said. “You must come with me, you can’t be wandering the streets like this. You’ll be discovered.”

      Should she try to lose him again? But then, he had just saved her; and he seemed neither angry nor accusatory, only concerned. “Where will you take me?” she asked.

      “My home. It’s not far from here.”

      She didn’t know if she could trust him—but he was right, she couldn’t keep wandering forever. She decided she must trust him. She must trust someone.

      “All right,” she said.

      They began to walk back the way she had come. “Now tell me,” the old man said, “where is your master?”

      “He died at sea, two days ago. We were crossing from Danzig.”

      The man shook his head. “How unfortunate,” he said. Whether he referred to Rotfeld’s death, or the larger situation, she wasn’t certain. “Is that where you lived, before this?”

      “No, I wasn’t alive,” she said. “My master didn’t wake me until the crossing, just before he died.”

      That surprised him. “You mean to say you’re only two days old? Extraordinary.” He rounded a corner, and the Golem followed. “And how did you make it through Ellis Island, on your own?”

      “I was never there. An officer on the ship tried to question me, because I had no ticket. So I jumped into the river instead.”

      “That showed quick thinking on your part.”

      “I didn’t want to be discovered,” she said.

      “Just so.”

      They walked on, back the way the Golem had come. The sun had long since ducked behind the buildings, but the sky still shone, brassy and thick with the day’s heat. Children began to emerge from the tenements again, looking for one last adventure before bedtime.

      The man was quiet as they walked. She realized she didn’t even know his name, but she hesitated to ask—he was lost in his thoughts. She could feel the questions circling in his mind, all with herself at their heart: what should I do with her? And in one brief flash, she saw an image of herself struck down, turned to a formless heap of dirt and clay in the middle of the street.

      She halted, stock-still. But instead of panic, she only felt a deep weariness. Perhaps it would be for the best. She had no place here, no purpose.

      He’d noticed she was no longer at his side and doubled back, concerned. “Is something wrong?”

      “You know how to destroy me,” she said.

      A pause. “Yes,” he said, guarded. “I have that knowledge. Few do, these days. How did you know this?”

      “I saw it in your mind,” she said. “You considered it. For a moment, you wanted it.”

      Confusion furrowed his brow—and then he laughed, without mirth. “Who made you?” he asked. “Was it your master?”

      “No,” she replied. “I don’t know my maker.”

      “Whoever it was,” he said, “was brilliant, and reckless, and quite amoral.” He sighed. “You can feel others’ desires?”

      “And fears,” she said. “Since my master died.”

      “Is that why you stole that knish, for the boy?”

      “I didn’t mean to steal,” she said. “He was just … so very hungry.”

      “It overwhelmed you,” he said, and she nodded. “We’ll have to address that. Perhaps with training … Well, that can wait, for now. We must deal with more practical matters first, such as finding you clothing.”

      “Then—you won’t destroy me?”

      He shook his head. “A man might desire something for a moment, while a larger part of him rejects it. You’ll need to learn to judge people by their actions, not their thoughts.”

      A moment’s hesitation; and then she said, “You’re the only one to speak kindly to me since my master died. If you think it best to destroy me, I’ll abide by that decision.”

      Now he looked shocked. “Have your few days been so difficult? Yes, I see they must have been.” He put a comforting hand on her shoulder; his eyes were dark but kind. “I’m Rabbi Avram Meyer,” he said. “If you’ll allow it, I will take you under my protection, and be your guardian. I’ll give you a home, and whatever guidance I can, and together we’ll decide what course is best. Do you agree?”

      “Yes,” she said, relieved.

      “Good.” He smiled. “Now, come with me. We’re almost there.”

      Rabbi Meyer’s building was a tenement like all the others, its hard facade stained with dirt and smoke. The lobby was dark and close, but well kept; the stairs creaked with protest beneath their feet. The Golem noticed that her companion’s breathing grew labored as they ascended.

      The Rabbi’s rooms were on the fourth floor. A narrow entryway led to a cramped СКАЧАТЬ