Chapter seventeenThat day Naghan Raerdu sent word that the body of an ordinary man had been stumbled upon in the gutter perhaps half a hundred paces from the house where the ibmanzy had caused such confusion. The fellow was thin to the point of emaciation, as though the life had been drained out of him. He wore a red robe. Pieces of skin were dislodged from his fingernails, and he was smeared in blood.
Down in the warrens where life in the favelas was cheap no one took much notice of another dead body in the gutter. The Watch had him taken up. He’d probably end up in the crematorium where the ovens disposed of corpses properly, under strict supervision. There was little room for burial grounds down in the canyons and the poor folk could not afford to avail themselves of the cemeteries out
