We left Corvin's shop, while Vensen and Timaeus stayed behind to watch the place. Corvin hailed an old carriage and asked the driver to take us to the Fifth District Cemetery.
We got in together, and I sat beside him. The carriage jolted forward over the uneven streets. He didn't speak, and neither did I. An awkward silence hung between us. His body was trembling and he didn't even try to hide it.
I turned my eyes to the window. The district streets were tinted yellow under the slanting sunlight. Vagrants lay on the ground. Some slept on pieces of cardboard, others twisted with hunger. Trash was scattered in every corner, and flies buzzed around it. On the sidewalks barefoot men with gaunt faces looked more like skeletons than humans.
After about fifteen minutes we arrived at the Eighth District Cemetery. I got out first, followed by Corvin, who turned to pay the driver. The driver refused the money, but Corvin insisted until the man finally gave in and took it reluctantly.
