by Robin Hobb
“I know. I was there. But I swear, Spink, it wasn’t me. I’ll swear by anything you like. I could not have done it.” I gave a strangled laugh. “He took all my hatred and lust for vengeance. And he seems to have kept it. Even now, I cannot rouse the hatred I should feel for Thayer. All I can think is that he was caught up by all of it, just as I was. Tortured and twisted by the magic. Made to do its will.”
Spink swallowed. “Perhaps I hate him enough for both of us. I liked him, when I first got here. He was a good officer.”
“I don’t doubt that,” I said quietly.
“What are we going to do about Amzil?”
“I don’t know. Do you really think Thayer would hang a woman? Would the other officers stand by while he did that?”
Before Spink could reply, Kesey returned with a dripping bucket of cold water. Spink drank deeply and thanked him. Then Epiny emerged from the cabin. Her smile blossomed at the sight of Spink and me sitting together. As she came toward us, carrying her sleeping baby and making motions that we should keep quiet, she looked more beautiful than I had ever seen her. She was thin, and her hair was still in a shambles from the cart ride. Her dress was not stylish and it was dusty from the trip. But her face glowed with love and satisfaction, and it broke my heart that Spink’s news was going to destroy that for her as well.
She had gone only a few steps before she read trouble in Spink’s face. Her smile faded as she hurried up to him. “What is it? Are the children all right?”
“Kesey, I’ll need to borrow that shirt, if I may,” I said to him. I think he was just as glad to withdraw as I was while Spink recounted the disaster to Epiny.
By the time I emerged from the cabin wearing a shirt that wouldn’t button around my neck and a pair of trousers that were too short for me, tears were running down Epiny’s face. She leaned on Spink, not sobbing but silently weeping. Spink held his daughter and patted his wife’s shoulder. I put my old clothes and my nondescript sword into the back of the cart. I turned to Kesey.
“I have to go back to town with them. Kesey, I’ll never be able to repay you for what you’ve done for me today. But that won’t stop me from trying.”
“Oh, I didn’t do anything big for you, Nevare. Just what a man does for his fellow soldier.” He cocked his head at me. “You going to try to clear your name? I’d sure like that. You could come back and take your cabin and your job back; you’re much better at it than I am. I actually miss living in the barracks; you believe that?”
“Oh, I believe it.” I shook his hand, then clapped him on the shoulder. “I don’t know what I’m going to do, Kesey. But thanks.”
“Well, whatever you decide to do, let me know this time, will you? A man should know where his friends are.”
“Indeed. A man should know where his friends are.”
“And, Nevare. I heard what the Lieutenant said, and I’m sorry that the Dead—that that woman is in trouble. I hope you can get to the bottom of it and get it straightened out. Sorry I called her that name, earlier. I didn’t know.”
I nodded, unable to think of what I could say to that, and I bade him farewell. I climbed into the back of the cart. Spink had tied his horse to it and was going to drive while Epiny shared the seat with him, the basket full of baby between them. I folded my tattered “clothes” into a cushion to sit on and rode in the back. The ride back to Gettys was long and uncomfortable. The cart rattled and jounced, the dust from the horse’s hooves quickly coated us, and we had to raise our voices to be heard. Even so, both of them demanded to hear the tale of all that had befallen me since that night I had left Gettys.
It was a long tale to tell, both painful and shameful at some points, but I had decided that these two, at least, deserved the full truth. Epiny, for a wonder, was silent through most of it, only breaking in when I spoke of the times when I had dream-walked to her. The night that I had tried to warn her about the raid, she had been thick with laudanum, she said. She credited Spink for pulling her back from that brink.
“There are many in the town not so fortunate. The Specks have stopped their magical onslaught against us, but many households still take the Gettys Tonic. It is a difficult thing to stop doing, but it is so sad to see little children sitting listless on the steps of their homes instead of playing in the gardens.”
Spink was quiet for a long time after I spoke of what I saw that night. I spared myself nothing, from the slitting of the sentry’s throat to my passive witnessing of the slaughter of the men at the barracks. When I spoke of seeing Spink and his men that night, he only nodded grimly. I feared he was having a difficult time understanding that all that I had done had not been of my own will, yet I could not blame him. I could scarcely forgive myself; why should I expect that he could do any better at it?
Still, they listened enraptured as I told of the days that followed, of Dasie’s death and Olikea’s sorrow, and when I told of Soldier’s Boy’s decision to do whatever he must to bring Likari home, both Spink and Epiny nodded as if there could not have been any other decision.
“It must have been hard to leave that little boy behind when you came back to us,” Epiny said sadly.
“It was and it wasn’t. I was not given a choice about leaving.” And before Epiny could tangle me with a dozen questions, I launched into the final part of my tale. When I reached the point of saying farewell to her and Spink, she nodded and said, “I recall that, but not as you saying farewell. It was like a door closing. Well, more like a window. Do you remember what I told you, so long ago in Old Thares? That once the medium at the séance had opened me to that world, I felt I could never completely close myself off from it.” She glanced sideways at Spink. “Now I can. I cannot tell you what a relief it is, Spink. No one whispering behind me when I’m trying to knead a loaf of bread, no one tugging at my mind when I’m rocking Solina to sleep.”
Spink let go of the reins with one hand and reached to touch his wife’s hand. “For the first time, I have begun to feel that I actually have her all to myself, occasionally. When she isn’t dealing with Solina or the other children, of course.”
“But it was frightening, because while that window was open, I felt closer to you, Nevare. Not as if I could reach you, but that I knew you were there somewhere. When it closed, I felt shut off. And I feared you were dead.”
“Well, I was,” I said, more lightly than I felt. I suddenly sighed, surprising myself. “I am dead to the Specks. Dead to Olikea and to Likari.”
By the time I finished my telling of how I’d been devoured by a tree, kidnapped by a god, and driven away from a village as a ghost, we had reached the outskirts of Gettys Town. I think that only when I saw that very ordinary place did I realize how fantastic a journey I’d actually made. Yet for everything I’d experienced, I felt no sense of homecoming or relief. My heart sank in despair. I had no brilliant plan for rescuing Amzil. I myself was a condemned man, and the closer we came to the houses and buildings, the lower I sank in the cart’s bed.
“I don’t think you need to worry,” Spink said quietly to me. “I only knew you because I recalled how you looked at the Academy. You’ve changed so much that I doubt anyone here will recognize you as Nevare from the graveyard unless you tell them that is who you are and give them a chance to study your face.”
Nonetheless, I felt nervous as our cart rattled through the town and up to the gate. I was horrified at the destruction we passed. A number of the town buildings were still burned-out husks that stank in the spring air. Others still showed plain signs of scorching or damage recently repaired. I craned my head back to look up at the watchtower over the prison’s corner of the fort. The scorch marks were plain, and the fire-arrow had triumphed. The uppermost part of the structure was a skeleton of blackened timbers.
My heart was thundering in my chest when Spink drew in the horse by the sentry box. The sentry saluted him smartly and Spink returned it. I looked away from him. The memory of my knife across another sentry’s throat, the soft tugging
as the sharp blade cut through arteries and flesh, the warm spill of blood across my fingers; I could almost smell the blood running. I felt queasy. The sentry scarcely gave me a glance. He saluted Spink and nodded courteously at Epiny. Spink stirred the reins and suddenly we were inside.
Here the damage was far worse than in the town outside the walls. Soldier’s Boy had been far more thorough than Dasie. Almost every building showed some sign of damage, but they showed it in the form of new or mismatched lumber against the old. A number of damaged buildings had been torn down and the salvaged lumber used to repair those that still stood. There were empty lots, carefully raked and tidied of debris. We went past the corner where the storage barn and stables had been. Hammers were ringing and saws growling as a crew of a dozen soldiers put up the framework of the new structures. The smell of fresh-cut wood was sharp in the air. Had Amzil’s fate not been weighing on my heart, it would have been a cheering sight to see so many men busily engaged in the construction.
But at the next turn, I caught sight of the building where I’d been a prisoner. Its stone foundation remained, but one end of the upper structure consisted only of scorched uprights and a few charred rafters. As we passed it, I caught a glimpse down the alley where I had escaped that night. Rubble still cluttered the ground where I’d broken out. A tree had sprouted in the mound of earth and broken stone and mortar. The building looked deserted. So Amzil was not being held there. Where was she?
I started to ask Spink when a shadow swept over all of us. I ducked like a small prey animal and then looked up in deepening dismay. A croaker bird made a lazy circle over the fort and then glided in to alight on the top rafter of the building. He landed awkwardly, teetered for an instant, and then got his balance. He settled his feathers around him and then, looking down, stretched out his neck toward me and gave three hoarse caws.
“You’ve taken my death from me. What more do you want of me, old god?” I asked in a small, shaking voice.
“It’s only a bird, Nevare,” Epiny said reassuringly, but the tremor in her voice was not a comfort to me.
“I wish I could go back to a life where a bird was just a bird, always,” Spink observed quietly. The baby began to cry and Epiny took the basket onto her lap and held it close.
“Oh, worst luck,” Spink said quietly.
I turned my head, baffled as to what he meant. Coming from a side street was a cavalla scout mounted on the finest horse I’d seen since I reached Gettys. It was a bay with a glossy black mane and tail and white stockings on its ramrod legs. I stared at the animal in admiration, feeling a pang for the loss of not only Sirlofty but even stolid Clove. When I glanced up at the rider, our eyes met. Scout Tiber stared at me for a moment; then his lips parted in a spare smile.
“Burvelle!” he called out in a friendly way. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.” As he spoke, the bird on the rafter cawed again, a mocking shadow of his words.
I lifted my hand in faint greeting. Tiber had a moustache now. Like every scout I’d ever known, he was both in and out of uniform. He wore his hat at a rakish angle and his jacket was open at the throat, showing a bright yellow scarf. A silver earring dangled from one ear. He was fit and clear of eye and I suddenly knew that being a scout did not much disagree with him. I could have been glad for him, if only he hadn’t recognized me.
“The only man in town who’d recognize you on sight,” Spink whispered with a groan.
“You know him?” Epiny demanded.
“Only from the Academy. I never spoke to him here,” I said as quietly.
Tiber had stirred his mount to a trot and brought him alongside our rattling cart. “Good afternoon, Lieutenant Kester. Ma’am.” He greeted them both respectfully. When he doffed his hat to Epiny, I saw that his hair was nearly as long as mine. My tongue clove to the top of my dry mouth.
“Lieutenant Tiber. Lovely day.” Spink’s response was noncommittal.
“Isn’t it?” Tiber swung his glance to me. He smiled. “So, Cadet Burvelle, you’ve come east to see Gettys, have you? Only, surely it’s not ‘cadet’ anymore?”
I found my tongue. “No, sir. I’m afraid not.”
Epiny suddenly spoke for both of us. “My cousin unfortunately had to leave the Academy. For health reasons, after the plague outbreak. He’s come to stay with us for a time, to see if we can’t mend his constitution enough to allow him to enlist.”
“Enlist?” Tiber shot me a puzzled glance.
“Purchase a commission, dear,” Spink corrected her desperately in a strangled but fond voice. “Enlisting would mean that your cousin sought to be a common soldier. As a new noble’s soldier son, he would purchase a commission and enter as a lieutenant, as I did.”
“Oh, yes, I’m so bad with words!” Epiny gave a false giggle so unlike her that I expected the sky to crack.
“Ah, yes. I heard that the plague had done in many of the fellows at the Academy. Glad to see you survived. But you do look a bit pale, Burvelle,” Tiber observed socially. “When you feel up to it, look me up. I’ll be glad to show you a bit of the countryside. You were earmarked to be a scout, once, weren’t you?”
“It was suggested to me,” I said faintly, wondering how he knew.
“Well, you might come to like it. And I’m confident that some of Lieutenant Kester’s Bitter Springs water will put you right. Seems to revive plague survivors in an amazing fashion.”
“Oh, it’s worse than just lingering plague symptoms,” Epiny suddenly declared. “On his way here to visit us, he was attacked. Evil road robbers hit him on the head and stole everything he had with him. Luckily one of our troopers found him and helped us reunite with him today.”
“That so, ma’am? Well, I’d heard we’d had a few bad sorts working the road west. I’ll have to keep an eye open for them. Hope you recover quickly, Burvelle, and I hope you find Gettys to your liking. I’ll look forward to chatting with you. Pleasant day to you all.”
“Pleasant day,” I replied numbly.
And Tiber stirred his horse to a faster trot and passed us.
“Why did you say all that?” I demanded of Epiny.
“Because it was perfect! It explains why you’re poorly dressed. And it makes it seem more feasible that you’ve just arrived from the west. And thus you cannot possibly be the convicted Nevare Burv whose name so unfortunately resembles your own.” She looked to me, her face alight with hope. “Nevare, the scout is the key. Lieutenant Tiber is the door back into resuming your own life. The letters from Yaril say that your father has forgotten his quarrel with you. Go back to him, as you are now, and say you’ve found a regiment you wish to join. He’ll buy you a commission, or Yaril will find a way to do so. You could be here, living near us, rising through the ranks with Spink. Oh, Nevare, it would be a whole different life for us if you could be part of it!”
I was silent for a time, marveling at her. Then, “Do you think it would work?” I asked Spink.
“It will either work or trip us up completely.”
I thought for a moment. “I won’t give up Amzil,” I said flatly.
“Of course not!” Epiny immediately replied. “Nor will we.”
I was silent the brief distance to their home. When Spink drew the cart to a halt, I was almost disbelieving. The row of houses reminded me of the cottages my father had set up in his vain attempt to settle the Bejawi. I could see that when the row of houses had been built, they’d been well designed. But in the years since, under the onslaught of the Speck magic, they’d deteriorated. Recent work could not erase the years of neglect. Porches sagged, paint was peeling off every structure, chimney stones had tumbled off a few, and without exception the little yards in front of each house were patches of weed, rock, and dust. Two wooden boxes full of earth flanked the entry to Spink’s home, with some sort of plant pushing its way up through the soil. It was the only promise of change. Epiny flushed a bit as I stared and she said inanely, “Amzil and I have been discussing making new curtains, when
the dry-goods store gets new stock.” She leaned closer to me and said, smiling, “Your sister actually sent us some lovely fabric, along with the food supplies. But we used it for dresses for the little girls.”
Then the door was flung open and the three children boiled out. “Missus, missus!” Kara shouted frantically. “Mum is very late! She still isn’t back from the market! We should go look for her.”
“Oh, my darlings, I know, I know. She’s been delayed. I’ve come home to take care of you until she gets here. Everything will be all right!”
Kara looked half a head taller than when I’d last seen her. Her dress astonished me. It was blue with a pattern of flowers, and she had a tidy little pinafore over it. Sem was dressed, as Epiny had warned me, in a suit made from cast-off uniforms. Dia, scarcely more than a baby when last I saw her, was dressed as primly as her older sister. Her blue pinafore with white ruffles matched Kara’s. Their faces were washed, their hair combed, and my heart broke when Sem looked up at Spink and said soulfully, “Thank the good god you’ve come home now, sir! I tole the girls you and the missus would come back and find out why Mum’s so late.”
“Epiny, Spink, may the good god bless you forever for what you’ve done for them,” I said quietly, and it was perhaps the most fervent prayer I’d said in my life. To see the children groomed and healthy, to see Sem standing tall like a brave little man, concerned about his sisters: could I have asked anything more of them? Tears stung my eyes. I found myself wishing that I presented a better aspect to the children as I climbed from the back of the cart. They stared at me as they would at a stranger, and quickly dismissed my presence as they clustered around Epiny, clutching at her skirts and asking, “Where’s Mummy? Will she be home soon?”
“I’ll be sure that she comes home very soon, my dearests,” Epiny blithely lied. And then I realized she was not lying at all; it was what she fully intended to do.
A tall, homely woman appeared suddenly in the doorway, wiping her hands on her apron. A bright brass whistle hung on a fine chain around her neck.
