by Robin Hobb
I thanked him for it as humbly as I could manage. Sometimes his eccentric kindness toward me grated on my pride. He dismissed me, but spoke again when my hand was on the doorknob. “And do something about that uniform, soldier. You know we have a contingent of nobility and officers coming to inspect us at the end of this month. Since we arrived here, I’ve never had a man in my command look less like a soldier than you do.”
“Sir. I’m sorry, sir. I’ve asked several times for a better uniform. Supply always tells me that they have nothing in my size.”
“Then you may tell them I said they should issue you something that you could have altered. You should at least be somewhat presentable, though it would probably be best if you avoided town while the inspection was in progress. I don’t intend to have our inspection team visit the cemetery, but the good god alone knows what they’ll take it into their own heads to do.”
“Yes, sir,” I replied grimly. I tried to keep my face expressionless. I knew that he only spoke the truth, but it did not make it any easier to accept. I touched the doorknob.
“Trooper. Regardless of what others may think of me, I know what goes on in my command. Your efforts with the cemetery have not gone unnoticed. I’ll add that although you look the least like a soldier of all my troops, in your efforts to protect our honored dead, you’ve behaved more like a soldier than most men in my command do at present. Now go have that drink.”
His words smoothed my rumpled feathers a bit and I left in a better state of mind. The silver piece was a generous bonus, and I decided I’d take his advice and have a beer before I left town.
Gettys was a lively place today. In addition to the Specks coming to town, several western traders had arrived with merchandise to sell to the soldiery and trade goods to barter with the Specks. The streets were busy, so when I encountered Spink and he frantically signed to me that I should meet him in the alley behind the blacksmith’s shop, I was not much worried that we’d be noticed together. Nonetheless, even in that noisy area, I resolved to maintain appearances.
“Nevare! I heard you’d gone missing. Thank the good god that you’re alive and unharmed!”
That was how Spink greeted me, but as he moved to embrace me, I reminded him of our varying statuses with a brusque, “Thank you for your concern, Lieutenant Spinrek. I assure you, it was not much of an adventure, but mostly my own foolishness that delayed me.” I hoped the look on my face conveyed that there was far more to tell, but that it would have to wait. Behind us, the smithy’s harsh clanging of metal on metal screened our words.
He drew back and stood still for a moment. I could tell from his eyes that he took no offense from my caution. Instead, he said carefully, “A lot of mail has arrived from the west. A washed-out bridge on the road had caused a great bottleneck of wagons and travelers. Perhaps there is some for you. My own lady wife has been very pleased to hear from her young cousin in the Midlands.”
Now it was my turn to practice restraint. I wanted to demand to see the letter from my sister immediately. Instead, I kept my voice steady as I said, “I trust all is well with her family, sir?”
“Oh, excellent,” he replied, but his eyes said differently. “She wrote that they were enjoying a long visit with houseguests from Old Thares. Her father seems to think that the young man would be an excellent match for her, and his uncle is prone to agree.”
I racked my brain for whom he could be describing. No one came to mind. At last I said, “Well, for her sake, sir, I hope the lad is of a good family.”
The pleasant expression on his face looked forced and sick. “Oh, they are not of the first quality, but they are still well placed. His father was in charge of the King’s Cavalla Academy for a time.”
That shocked me out of my pose. “Caulder Stiet? Impossible.”
Spink’s smile grew wider, but there was nothing of pleasure in it. “There Yaril agrees with you. It’s a desperate letter, Nevare. She still thinks you are dead. She risked her reputation to slip away from the house and go alone to a little town to post her letter to us.”
“What am I to do? What can I do?” I felt frantic with worry. The thought of Yaril being given over to that shallow, trembling boy filled me with loathing. I hated the idea of him being near my sister, let alone claiming her as his wife. I wondered if my father was mad, if this was his vengeance on Yaril, or if he genuinely thought it was a good match for her. Caulder wasn’t even a soldier son anymore. If Yaril married him, her sons would be “gatherers of knowledge” like Caulder’s geologist uncle.
“Write to her. Tell her you’re alive. Give her a refuge, or at least the strength to defy your father and refuse Caulder.”
“How can I get a letter to her?”
“Write to your father. Demand that he tell her. Write to your priest-brother. Write to her friends. There must be some way, Nevare.”
Were the fates listening? I looked past Spink’s shoulder. Carsina was crossing the street. “You see that girl. That’s Carsina, Spink. My erstwhile fiancée and once Yaril’s best friend. She’s the best chance I have of slipping a letter to Yaril past my father. Excuse me.”
“We need to arrange a meeting later,” Spink hissed after me, but I didn’t pause. I strode hastily down the street, on a deliberate course to intercept Carsina. She hadn’t seen me yet; I had to reach her before she did. I cringed as I thought of my appearance. My uncut hair hung shaggy around my ears. My boots were starting to crack at the sides. My trousers showed wear at the knees and seat, and I had to buckle my belt under my belly these days. Above my belt, my gut bloomed out in a swell that my shirt strained to cover. I didn’t blame Carsina for recoiling in horror from the thought that she had once been betrothed to me. But I didn’t desire any acknowledgment from her, only a small and simple favor. All I needed was an envelope addressed in her hand to my sister.
My hat was shapeless and dusty. Nevertheless, I removed it as I approached her. I’d give no one any reason to think I was being less than courteous to her. “Excuse me, ma’am,” I addressed her respectfully. I kept my eyes lowered. “I’ve a favor to ask you, not for myself, but for my sister, once your friend. Grant me this, and I promise I’ll never ask anything else of you again. I won’t so much as nod at—”
I got no further in my humiliating plea for her aid. A sudden blast of sound assaulted my ears. I clapped my hands over them and lifted my eyes. Carsina had raised a brass whistle to her lips and was blowing blast after blast on it as if her life depended on it. Her cheeks were distended with the effort, her eyes almost bulging. If her action had not been so irrational, it might have seemed humorous. I stood transfixed, staring at her.
But elsewhere on the street, others had sprung into motion. My first warning was when a small woman in a white apron brought a broom down firmly on my back. It stung and raised dust. “What?” I asked in consternation as I dodged away from the enraged shopkeeper’s wife. But that only brought me into range of a young woman with a furled parasol. She whacked me solidly with it on the back of my head, shrieking, “Get away from her! Leave her alone! Help! Help! Assault! Assault!”
All the while, Carsina continued to shrill on her whistle and women continued to converge on me, also blowing whistles. I gave ground hastily. “I’ve done nothing wrong!” I shouted at them. “I said nothing ill to her! Please! Listen to me! Please!”
Men were gathering as well, some to laugh and point at the sight of the big fat man beleaguered by a flock of angry women. Others were striding more purposefully toward the scene of the confrontation, anger on their faces. One tall, thin man was being dragged angrily toward me by his fussing, scolding wife. “You get in there, Horlo, and you teach that rude fellow what happens to men who say foul things on the streets to good women!”
“I’m leaving!” I shouted, not wishing to be attacked by the ineffectual-looking Horlo or anyone else. “I’m going. I’m sorry the lady took offense. None was intended. I apologize!”
I’m not sure that anyone heard
my words over the shrill whistles and shriller voices that surrounded me, calling me names and raining abuse on me. I lifted my hands over my head to show that I was not returning any of the blows from the brooms, parasols, fans, and dainty fists. I felt both a coward and a buffoon, but what could I do, assaulted by a mob of angry women? I had broken clear of the circle and thought I’d escaped when I heard an angry voice shout a damning accusation. “He’s the one they say raped and murdered that poor whore! He’s the big fat scoundrel who killed that Fala woman and hid her body!”
I turned back in horror. “That’s not true! I’ve never hurt anyone!”
The mob of women surged toward me. A flung stone struck me in the face. A larger one rebounded off my shoulder. I didn’t know the man striding fearlessly toward me through the hail of rocks, but he was well muscled, fit, and grinning the snarl of a man who loves a good fight. A wash of cold rose through me. I could die here, I suddenly knew. Stoned, beaten, kicked to death by a mob of folk who didn’t even know me. I caught a sudden glimpse of Sergeant Hoster. He stood to one side of the crowd. His arms were crossed on his chest and he was smiling grimly.
Spink had always had more guts than common sense. Even when I’d been a lean and fit cadet, Spink had looked small beside me. He charged into the fray, shouting, “Desist! This moment! Halt! That’s an order!” He reminded me of a barking, snarling terrier protecting a mastiff as he spun to face the oncoming tide of roused people. “Halt, I said!”
They didn’t exactly halt, but they stopped advancing. The crowd roiled, and another stone came winging from someone in the back and bounced off my chest. It didn’t really hurt, but the fury it symbolized was frightening. The women were all talking, and several were pointing at me. I no longer saw Carsina anywhere. The large man I had glimpsed pushed his way to the front of the mob.
“Halt!” Spink barked again.
“Sir, are you going to let a filthy lout like that get away with insulting a decent woman? The least he merits is a good beating, and if the rumors are true, he ought to be hanged.”
Spink’s shoulders were very square. He kept his eyes on the crowd as he spoke in a stern voice. “I’d like the woman he insulted to come forward, please. I’ll take her complaint right now.”
My mouth went dry. I knew he had no choice, but once Carsina accused me in public, she’d be far too proud to back down. The least I’d get was a flogging.
“She’s…she’s not here, sir!” The young woman who spoke had a quavery voice, as if she were about to burst into tears. “She was overcome, sir, with what he said to her. Two other ladies have helped her home. I imagine her brother or her fiancé would be glad to speak on her behalf.” This last she uttered with savage satisfaction. She glowered at me as if I were a rabid dog.
“Direct them to me. Lieutenant Spinrek Kester. I’ll take down the details of any complaint they wish to lodge. As for the other, until a body or a witness is found, it remains a foul rumor and no more than that.”
The man’s brow furrowed and his face flushed an evil dark red. “So what are you going to do, sir? Just let him roam around loose until we find a body with him standing over it?”
Sergeant Hoster suddenly decided to act. He strode over to Spink, saluted him, and then said, “I’ll be happy to escort him to the cells, sir.”
Spink held his ground. I felt a fool standing silent behind him, as if I were a huge child cowering behind his diminutive mother’s skirts. “I appreciate your offer of help, Sergeant Hoster. But we don’t lock men up on the basis of rumor. If we did, likely not one of us would be walking free.”
Hoster dared to question his decision. “Perhaps this is a time when we should choose to err on the side of safety, sir.”
Spink reddened at the man’s insubordination. But he kept his calm. “Do you have any hard evidence, Sergeant? A witness?”
“No, sir.”
“Then there is no reason to hold this man prisoner.” Spink turned suddenly on me, and the anger on his face was convincing. “You, soldier. Take yourself out of town. Innocent or guilty, tempers are hot over this, and I judge it best that you isolate yourself until these rumors are resolved. I’ll speak to the mess hall, and have some supplies sent out to you. And I warn you, behave in an exemplary manner. I’ll take it on myself to check up on you from time to time. You’d best be where I expect you to be. Now go. Now!”
I looked from Spink to the mob. It would only take one wrong word to ignite them. But I couldn’t just slink away like a kicked cur. I came to attention and looked only at Spink. I spoke, trooper to lieutenant, but I made sure that my voice carried to the crowd. “Sir. I did not speak rudely or suggestively to the lady. And as to Fala’s fate, I do not know what became of her. I am innocent of both these things.”
An ugly muttering rose from the gathered folk. I feared I had pushed them too far, as did Spink from the expression on his face. He spoke sternly for their benefit. “I hope in the good god’s name that you are speaking the truth, trooper, for I will be looking into this personally. And if you have lied to me, you will find the punishment I extract for a lie will be the equal of the other two offenses. Now go!”
I obeyed him, my cheeks burning and resentment simmering in my heart. I felt that all of Gettys stared at me as I walked to where I’d left Clove tethered. It took all my self-control not to look back over my shoulder to see if I would be followed. As I mounted up and rode out of town, I wondered if I’d chosen the wrong world.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
TWO WOMEN
What are you doing here?”
It was not the kindest greeting I could have given her, nor the one I would have preferred if I’d had the luxury of thinking what I’d say to her. But the shock of seeing Amzil sitting at the table inside my cabin when I opened the door jolted the words out of me.
She took it better than I had a right to expect. “Mending your shirt,” she pointed out, holding up the offending item. “Half the buttons are off this. These ones won’t match, but at least you’ll be able to button it. I took them off that old shirt there. It looks little better than a rag, so I thought you wouldn’t mind.”
Her literal answer to my question left me gaping. She seemed to find that amusing, for a smile twisted her mouth. She looked gaunt and weary and more threadbare than the last time I’d seen her. Yet her hair was tidied and put up in a roll on the back of her head, and she wore a dress with a skirt made from the fabric I’d sent her, almost as if she were trying to put her best foot forward for me. I came cautiously into my own cabin, feeling oddly displaced by seeing her sitting at my table. All my clothing had been sorted into heaps around her. Her smile grew more anxious in my silence. “I’ve made myself a cup of tea. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not. You’re welcome. You’re very welcome. Where are the children?”
“I left them in town. Another woman at the boardinghouse said she’d watch them for me if I did her washing for her when I came back. It looks as if you’ve done well for yourself, Nevare.”
“Yes. That is…yes. I was able to enlist, and the colonel gave me this post. I guard the cemetery. Dig the graves and whatnot. But what brings you to Gettys?”
She set the shirt she had finished mending on the table, and tucked the needle neatly into the thread on the spool. “Well. I had to leave my old house. Things got very ugly there this winter. I know you meant well when you left us plenty of meat. And I don’t know how you weeded the vegetable patch like that; I had no idea there were that many plants there. But the problem was what it always is. The more you have, the more ruthless people will be in trying to take it from you. At first my neighbors come to my door begging. And I said no. Not to be cruel, but because I knew that what you left, while it seemed a lot at the time, was probably just enough to keep us all fed through the winter.” She picked up the shirt she had mended, turned it over in her hands several times, and set it down again. She shook her head to herself, and the sunlight from the window moved
on her dark hair, making it gleam. She tried to smile, but it came out more as a grimace.
“Then they came trying to trade, but I said no again, for the same reason. How could they blame me? I have the three little ones; my first duty is to keep them alive. And my old neighbors would have said the same to me had the shoe been on the other foot! Well, after that, they started stealing from me. I tried to defend what I had, but there was only one of me. They were getting to my snares before I ever did; resetting them was a waste of time, because I was just doing that work for them. But I thought, well, I’ve got the deer meat, and I’d brought in all the garden vegetables to the shed.
“I put as much as I could inside the cabin with us, but then I scarcely dared leave the place, for fear they’d come in and take it while I was gone. They stole every bit of the meat that I had to leave hanging in the shed, and dug all through the vegetable patch, looking for any small potatoes I’d missed, for anything at all. I scarcely dared go to sleep at night. It was like living in the middle of a pack of wolves.”
Her voice had dropped down to a murmur. She fell silent, staring at the worn cuff of my shirt. When the silence stretched, I got up and put the kettle back on the fire. “Hitch said you wouldn’t even let him inside the door. Did you get the things I sent in the carry sack?”
She looked startled. “Oh. The book. And the sweets. Yes. Yes, we got the gifts, the children loved them. I—thank you. I didn’t say thank you, did I?” She suddenly smoothed the folds of her skirt and looked down, speaking awkwardly. “At the time, I was shocked. Just shocked. I’d hoped that you would come back, to return the sack if nothing else, but I didn’t expect you just to send it with someone, full of gifts, for no reason.” She suddenly pinched her lips together and her blue eyes flooded with tears. She took a little breath. “I can’t remember the last time a man gave me a gift when he didn’t expect something back for it.” She lifted her face, and her eyes suddenly met mine. For a moment her vulnerability shone through her tough expression, and with it, her youthfulness. I suddenly wanted to fold her in my arms and protect her, for she seemed as small and defenseless as my little sister. But the instant passed, and she abruptly looked as stony as she ever had. I was glad I hadn’t acted on my impulse; she probably would have scratched my eyes out. I sought for something to say.
