For a moment, he was silent, surprised at the emotions he could hear raging in Co’s voice. Then he remembered the boy, remembered deciding to let him live and the feel of the knife as it entered his back. He clenched his teeth against a building fury of his own. I almost died because of you. You had me thinking all those stupid thoughts about that kid. Because of you, I tried to let him live. Because of you, I was weak, and it nearly got me killed. From now on, how about you stay the fuck out of my business?
You think mercy is weakness? Co asked dangerously.
Look at where it got me! He thought back, before you showed up, I was living the easy life, taking jobs and making money. Now, every time I try to do what needs to be done, I’ve got you screwing with my head.
You’re wrong.
The fuck I am. Mercy is for fools. In this world, you take what you want, keep what you can, and to the Fields with everyone else.
You misunderstand me, the Virtue responded, her tone cool, I didn’t make you feel anything.
Of course you did! Why else would I—he paused, frowning.
Yes, the Virtue said, you begin to understand. I am not the one that made you ‘weak’ as you call it. I am not the one, Aaron Envelar, who staid your hand, who chose mercy. You are. You are not quite the monster you pretend to be.
He was just about to tell her exactly what he thought of that when there was a rustle beside the bed. He opened his eyes again and managed to turn his head a fraction in the direction of the sound. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for him to see the princess seated beside him. Her legs were curled underneath her, and her head was lying on the back of the chair, her dark hair covering most of her face. Now that he wasn’t distracted by Co, he could just make out the faint sounds of her breath as she slept.
He watched her breathe in and out softly, thinking of the visions the Virtue had shown him while he lay near death. She has spent almost every moment here, Co said. The anger was gone from her voice, something like affection having replaced it.
Why?
Do you not know?
He stared at Adina, at the soft fall of her hair, the gentle lines of her face and did not answer. Finally, he cleared his throat.
The princess stirred and glanced over at the bed. She let out a gasp of surprise at seeing his eyes open, “Y-you’re awake.” She reached a hand toward his where it lay over the quilt, then hesitated, no doubt remembering how he’d acted the last time she’d gotten close.
“It’s okay,” he croaked, wincing at the dryness in his voice and trying to smile.
She placed her hand, soft and warm on his, “Naya said … I didn’t think--”
“That I was going to live?” He asked softly, “Me e—“ he started, then cut off as he was overcome by a coughing fit.
“Wait, I’ll get you some water.” She went to the nightstand and poured him a glass of water. By the time she came back, he’d managed to get his coughing under control.
“Slowly,” she said as she brought the glass to his lips. The water was cool and refreshing, and he thought he’d never had any better. Despite her warning, he drank greedily, and she was forced to jerk the glass away as he broke into another fit of coughs.
When he’d finished, he saw that she was smiling at him, “You don’t like to listen, do you?”
“Look, Adina, about the way I’ve treated you—“
“It’s fine,” she interrupted, “you should really save your strength. We can talk about it another time.”
“No,” he said, meeting her gaze, “this is important.” He waited for her to argue. When she didn’t, he took a deep breath and spoke, “You see, the thing is … well, it seems like for all my life anything good I ever got was taken from me. First my parents, then Owen … I didn’t kill him by the way, he was already dead. Or, that is … probably. He’s probably dead, but I didn’t do it.” He saw her confused expression and went on, “Well, I did kill him, but he wasn’t Owen—I only thought he was, and I tried not to, really. But that,” he felt himself growing angry at the memory, “that son of a bitch stabbed me in the back. He stabbed me in the back.”
“Uhuh,” she said, starting to rise, “maybe I should get Naya. She’ll want—“
“Wait,” he said, grabbing her hand, “please.” He took a deep breath and sighed, “Damnit. I’m not very good at this. Look, what I mean to say is that you were right, I do—“
Just then she pressed a finger softly against his lips and smiled. “Shh. I know, Aaron. It’s okay.”
She moved closer, so that their lips were only inches apart. “I know,” she said in a whisper. Just then, there was a loud creak as the door swung open, and she jumped back into her seat.
An old woman, Naya, he assumed, walked into the room, a glass in one hand, a cane in the other. She was too busy ogling the sellsword in shock to notice the princess’s deep blush. “Well, may the gods be praised,” she breathed.
Aaron lay there, uncomfortable under the woman’s gaze for several seconds before he cleared his throat, “I’m Aaron. You’re Naya, I take it?”
The old woman shook her head as if to clear it, “Sorry, it’s just that I ain’t seen many folks cheat the Keeper his due. The name’s Naya and don’t worry; I know your name. I reckon I know about everything there is to know about you,” she winked conspiratorially at the princess who blushed and looked away.
He smiled, “Well, I thank you for patching me up. Now, if you two will help me up, we need to get going.”
He was just starting to try to rise, when Naya took a menacing step forward, “You’re a big fella, young man, but you won’t move one muscle off of that bed if you know what’s good for you. I didn’t spend all my time patching you up as you call it just to see you ruin all my hard work by getting the notion in your fool head that you were going to jump out of bed and go on a bloody march.”
Aaron frowned but didn’t move. “Fact is,” the old woman went on, either not noticing or not caring about his expression, “that you’re lucky to be alive. No, lucky don’t even cover it as far as I’m concerned. Boy, I’ve seen corpses that look a blessed sight better than you do even now. Why, when you arrived, I’m pretty sure you had more blood on ya than in ya, and for the life of me I can’t see how you managed to walk in here on your own two feet.”
“The walking was fine,” he said with a smile, “as I recall, it was the standing that did me in.”
The woman frowned at him through furrowed brows, “Yeah, well. You’re lucky you’ve got a good woman that cares about you. As far as I’m concerned, any man fool enough to get himself stabbed not once, but two times, not to mention cut up like a slaughter hog, deserves his fate, so don’t you give me no trouble, or I’ll make what happened to you seem like a picnic, you understand?”
Aaron swallowed hard and tried to look properly admonished under the woman’s stern, milky gaze, “Yes, ma’am. Well, I thank you just the same.”
The woman walked over to the stand beside the bed, sat the drink down, and looked at him meaningfully, “You can thank me by drinking every bit of that tea. Tastes like horse leavings, but I won’t have you takin’ fever and dying – not after all the work I’ve put into you.”
“Thank you, Naya,” Adina said.
The old woman’s scowl vanished in an instant, replaced by a kind smile as she patted Adina on the hand, “That’s alright, dear. It was my pleasure.” She glanced back at Aaron, “Now, if he gives you any trouble you let me know, alright?”
The princess smiled, “Yes ma’am.”
“That’s a good girl.” The old woman glared at him once more before she turned and shuffled away. “Patching him up,” she muttered and snorted as she walked out the door.
Once she was gone, Aaron glanced at Adina, his eyebrow raised. “I don’t think she likes me much.”
The princess laughed, “You think? No, Naya is just … protective. She’s been looking in on you constantly, you know. You should have seen her that first night, Aaron. For a woman
who shuffles like she can barely walk, she moved like lightning when you came in. All the rest of us were terrified but not her. She got Peter and Gryle to lift you onto the table and started to work on your wounds like it was the most ordinary thing in the world.” She shook her head, her smile vanishing, “I still can’t believe she managed it. When I saw you like that, all covered in blood with a knife still in your arm, I thought … Well, I thought—“
“I know.”
Several moments passed before either of them spoke. Finally, Adina took a deep breath and asked the question she’d been dying to ask, “Why did you go, Aaron? We could have run … we could have hid.”
He thought of the orphanage then, of the days he’d spent doing his best to avoid the notice of the headmaster, the days he’d spent letting the man’s atrocities continue, too scared to try to stop them. “Because I decided a long time ago that I wouldn’t run anymore, that I wouldn’t hide. Leaving the Downs, that’s one thing, fleeing like a rabbit from a couple of soldiers, well, that’s more than I’m willing to do.”
“So what happened out there?” She asked, and he could hear the reluctance in her voice. It was a question she thought she needed to ask, but one that she didn’t really want to know the answer to.
“I made a mistake,” he said, thinking of the youth with the green eyes, begging for his life. “It’s one I won’t make again.”
She nodded, relieved. “I’m just glad you’re alive.”
“Alive isn’t good enough. If what Herb told me was right, it won’t be long before the contest starts in Baresh, and Claudius means to hand the country over to Belgarin after it’s over.”
She shook her head, “Surely you can’t mean to enter, not after what you’ve been through. Why, you can barely even move, and Naya says it’ll be at least a month before the bone in your left arm’s healed.”
He smiled, “It’s a good thing I’m right-handed then.”
“No, Aaron. You can’t. There’s got to be another way.”
“If you know one, name it.”
She opened her mouth to speak but closed it again. He nodded, “It’s been a long time since I’ve let myself care about anybody else, Adina, and I’ll admit that I’m one of the world’s biggest assholes, but those people don’t know what’s coming. They’re already starving, sure, but that’ll be the least of their worries if your brother takes control. You know that don’t you?”
She nodded but didn’t speak.
“If there’s another way, we’ll find it,” he said reassuringly, “trust me, I don’t relish the thought of fighting one handed. That kind of money is going to bring in some quality contenders, not just the normal group of strutting peacocks these kinds of events attract, but some real blades. If I’m stuck going up against a master with a bum arm, I won’t last five seconds.”
She frowned at him, “You’re not making me feel any better.”
He laughed at that, and was still laughing when there was a knock on the door. “Who is it?” He asked, pretending not to notice the princess’s glare.
“It’s Gryle, sir,” answered the muffled voice of the chamberlain from the other side of the door, “M-may I come in?”
“Well, come on then.”
The chubby man walked in, his gaze never wavering from the ground in front of his feet, “I-I heard that you were up.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say I’m up,” Aaron said, “but I’m breathin’, and there’s something to be said for that.”
The chamberlain didn’t answer. Instead, he fidgeted from one foot to the next, his gaze staying on the ground. To Aaron, he looked ashamed, like a man needing to get something off his chest and, judging by the furtive glances he kept casting in the princess’s direction, he didn’t want her present when he did.
Adina must have also noticed Gryle’s unease because she rose and winked at him, “Don’t forget to drink all of the tea Naya brought. I’ll be back in a few minutes. I’m going to see if Naya needs any help in the kitchen.”
When she was gone, Gryle breathed an audible sigh of relief, and risked his first glance at Aaron himself. “Sir, I’m glad that you’re okay. We were all worried about you.”
“Thanks.” Aaron caught a whiff of something foul and frowned, glancing in the direction of the tea sitting on the nightstand. He could smell the pungent, herbal odor from the bed, but the old woman had been very specific. He sighed, motioning to the glass with his chin, “You mind handing me that?”
Gryle handed him the glass distractedly, too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice Aaron’s wince as he barely managed the monumental effort of forcing his unresponsive fingers to grasp the cup. As soon as the cup was taken from his grasp, the chamberlain began wringing his hands nervously. He opened his mouth several times, as if about to speak, only to shut it again.
While he waited on the chamberlain to spit out whatever was bothering him, Aaron took a deep, preparatory breath, and took a long drink of the tea. He sputtered, spilling some of it on the quilt as he gagged on the foul-tasting liquid. It felt like oil in his throat, thick and cloying, and though he tried to force himself to drink it, he was only able to get down a small amount of the sharp, tangy mixture before he became certain that anymore would have him heaving all over the flowered quilt. When he was sure he wasn’t going to puke, he looked back at Gryle. The man had paid no attention to his suffering, too busy mulling over whatever it was he was thinking of. “Alright, damnit, I’m the one having to drink sewer water, but you look like a man on the hangman’s block. What’s eating you?”
“I was going to leave you,” the chubby man blurted, his face turning a deep red, “I was going to take the princess and leave you. I wanted to go back, but … but I had to make sure that she got to safety.”
He looked at the man, confused, “Didn’t I tell you to leave at first light?”
The chamberlain nodded pathetically, refusing to meet his eyes, “Yes.”
“Look at me, chamberlain. Damnit look at me.” Slowly, cowering as if he was about to be struck, Gryle met his gaze. Aaron noticed with chagrin and more than a touch of impatience that the chamberlain’s bottom lip was quivering. “You did what I told you to do, nothing less. You did what you were supposed to do. There’s no reason to beat yourself up about that.”
“I-it isn’t right, to leave you like that. It isn’t right.” Gryle said miserably, his chubby face screwed up in an effort to keep from crying.
Aaron barked a laugh, “Maybe not, but what does that matter?” The chamberlain glanced at him curiously. “If there’s anything I’ve learned, Gryle, it’s that what most people consider the right choice can get a man killed. Leave it to the priests and the politicians to die for their beliefs. For us normal men, the right choice is the one that keeps us breathing a little while longer.”
Gryle frowned at him, “Y-you don’t believe that, sir—you can’t.”
Aaron smiled, but there was no humor in it. “Don’t I? Let me tell you something, chamberlain. When the darkness comes, when a man lies awake for fear that it will be his night, his turn to visit the Keeper’s Fields….” He thought of Owen and paused. When he spoke again he did so through gritted teeth, “At a time like that, a man doesn’t give a fuck about morality or being a good person. All he cares about is seein’ the sunrise.”
Gryle considered this for several moments. When he finally answered his voice was little more than a whisper, and he eyed Aaron with a look of expectant dread, as if he was sure that he was going to skewer him for his words, despite the fact that with the way his body felt Aaron would be lucky if he managed to take a piss by himself, “I-I don’t believe that, sir,” The chamberlain answered. “I won’t believe it. Breathing’s not enough; it can’t be. The gods watch us, and they know our hearts. They protect those who serve them.”
Aaron grunted, suddenly exhausted. His eyes closed of their own accord, as if lead weights had been tied to the lids, and he wondered when they’d gotten so heavy. “Well.”
“My, I’m sorry, sir,” Gryle stuttered, “here I am talking to you when you’re supposed to be getting your rest. I’m so sorry; I’ll leave right now.”
Aaron was sure that if he opened his eyes he would see the chamberlain wringing his hands anxiously, but the effort wasn’t worth it. “You did the right thing, Gryle.”
The chamberlain didn’t answer, but Aaron could hear the man’s shuffling steps as he made his way to the door, “Oh, and Gryle?”
“Yes sir?” The chubby man asked, his squeaky voice sounding distant as the darkness of exhaustion and weariness began to settle over Aaron like a thick, heavy mantle.
“It’s good that you have your beliefs,” He said. His tongue felt too big, wooly, and he could detect a slur in his speech, but he was too tired to care. “My father told me once that a man without any beliefs wasn’t a man at all.”
“T-thank you, sir,” the chamberlain said, and Aaron heard the distant sound of the door closing as he left.
Left alone with his own thoughts, he remembered the boy who wasn’t Owen, remembered the way his green eyes had pleaded, so desperate to live. He thought of the way the young soldier’s neck had looked, the bone pushed out to the side in a swollen clump, his eyes wide and blank in death, his arms and legs splayed out wildly as if he wasn’t a man at all, but some grotesque marionette whose strings had been cut. And aren’t we? He thought bitterly, aren’t we all just the puppets of the gods, waiting for them to tire of us and cut our strings? He sighed heavily, “That’s alright,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper, “it’s good that he believes in something. Even if it is a lie.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
He awoke fighting for his life, choking and gasping as some terrible poison was forced down his throat. He struggled, but his muscles were weak from his wounds and it did little good as the liquid coursed down his throat like liquid fire. It was the soldiers, it had to be. They must have crept up on them at Naya’s while everyone was asleep. He tried to spit up the vile brew, but a hand, strong and merciless despite its thinness, clamped down on his mouth, and he was forced to swallow or drown.
A Sellsword's Compassion_Book One of the Seven Virtues Page 23