Erosan's Tears

by Jason Scott Gleason

  “What do you mean?” Raelyn was upset, anxious. You should be happy right now! “I know you haven’t had the chance, but I can change that. I can finally give you that kind of life.”

  She looked back over at him, starting to get angry. “What kind of life can you give me, Rae? What kind of life could you have ever given me? The wife of a soldier? Waiting and wondering while you were out on campaign for years? Would you have loved me so much if you possessed me? Or would you have just looked at me like I was your property? I’ve seen soldiers’ wives, heard their desperation, seen their children in the streets, growing up without a father. Do you think I would have wanted that kind of life?”

  Raelyn reeled at her hostility, watched as her anger mounted. “You had your chance, and you know it. The first time you came home with Perinor’s men I begged you not to go back! I begged you to give it all up, to find something else that kept you here with me, but you wouldn’t hear me! All you would talk about was honor and duty and how Perinor needed you, all while looking at me with shame and guilt because you couldn’t handle that I was selling myself. You had your chance, and you ran away from it, so I kept doing the only thing I could to support myself, which is what got me out of my father’s house to begin with.

  “And now, what kind of life would you give me?” she continued. “Wife to a man of the Watch? Your stipend would be less than what you make now—I’m sure Lord Perinor pays you better than that. And where would we live? Your small apartment in the Oervan District, with the rats and the roaches, dreaming of a day that we could live in the Nobles’ District, a day that would never come?”

  “No, no,” Raelyn protested. “It wouldn’t be like that at all! You don’t understand—with what I have I can afford to get us something nice, in the Nobles’ District! Lord Perinor will speak for me! With what I’ll be making from the city and from Lord Perinor, we’ll be able to have a good life together.”

  Callais scoffed, her derision evident. “As long as you stay in Lord Perinor’s favor, we’ll have a good life? You’d just be whoring yourself out to him. And that would make you better than me?”

  “No, that’s not what I’m trying to say,” Raelyn replied, shaking his head. “Look, I was one of Lord Perinor’s companions, a member of his company. He remembers that—it’s why he’s looked after me since I’ve been back. He knows he can always rely on me, so he trusts me. We’re friends.”

  She shook her head. “No, you’re not friends. You and Jethu are friends. Men like Perinor don’t have friends—they just have people they use. You’re one of Lord Perinor’s men; it doesn’t work the other way around. He’s his own man, with his own estate and his own title. Without your support, he’ll still be a High Lord of the city. Without him, you’re nothing.” Callais stood up and walked over to retrieve her robe, her movements sharp and angry. “What would happen if you fell out of his favor? Would you have me become a washerwoman to pay for our keep? Would you love me if my hands were dry and cracked, if my back was stooped, if my hair was gray?”

  Raelyn tried to respond, but she cut him off. “I don’t want to hear it. I’ve known you too long. You want beauty, want what you can’t have. You only think you love me because I’m something so mysterious, your personal temple to Vendara, because when you come to me it’s for the luxury I offer you. You want me now, but you wouldn’t want me if things were difficult between us, if we were constantly getting into fights because we had to deal with real life.”

  “That’s not true,” he interjected, his voice sounding more plaintive than he intended. “I’ve wanted you for years, even when you were working for tares in the Wharf District.”

  “But it wasn’t enough for you to come home to, eight years ago! And two years later, when Mardal was killed, where were you then? For two years you were here in the city, working as an investigator, and you never came to see me. Not once!”

  “I was in a bad place,” Raelyn started to tell her, but she interrupted.

  “We’ve been over it before,” Callais said, shaking her head. “I know you were in a bad place, and I know you blamed yourself for Mardal’s death, and I know you were drinking a lot—and I know you never forgave yourself for letting me choose this life. But you never forgave me either, and that’s not fair.” There was pain mixed with the anger in her voice. “I did what I had to do to survive, Rae. All of it—my father, the whoremongers, the street thugs—I had to protect myself, because nobody was there to protect me.”

  “I lost my commission with the Watch to protect you.” He reached out, taking her arms and turning her to meet his gaze. “I would want you even if you were a stoop-backed, gray haired old washerwoman.”

  She pulled away from him, and her voice sounded smaller, more distant. Some of the fight had gone out of her. “You’re right. You lost your commission in the Watch because of me. If you hadn’t ridden to my rescue I would have ended up branded a criminal, working the docks for the rest of my life. You sacrificed your career for me, and I’ve felt guilty for that ever since. And it kills me to know that even after I destroyed your life, all you want is to settle down with me.

  “But what about what I want, Rae? What would I become? The wife of an investigator, once a whore. Who would befriend me? I’d be an outcast among other women, the target of jokes and jests. You’d have to be a High Lord yourself before you could afford to protect me from that. I don’t want that kind of life.”

  “Not even for me?” he asked, but he knew the answer. His heart sank. Not even for me. You don’t love me the way I love you. You wouldn’t be willing to sacrifice your life the way I did.

  She looked at him, and that look broke his heart. “No, Rae. Not even for you. Look at me. I used to be a common whore. And now what am I? A courtesan. That may not mean much to you, but it means a lot to me. I have wealthy clients, and I have the ear of powerful men. I’m taken to dinner, to theater, to summer villas in Weddleton. I dress in fine silks and lace, bathe in perfumed baths, wear fine jewelry. Ten years ago, when I begged you to stay, you would have been saving me from a hard life to be a respectable woman. But now you’re asking me to sacrifice as good a life as a woman could ask for without being born to wealth. And I’ve done it all for myself. Why would I give all of that up?”

  “I just hoped… I’ve hoped for a long time that you would say yes if I could give you a respectable life, if I could afford to take you away from all… this.” Damn it, Raelyn, he thought to himself. She just said that all this was what she wanted.

  She smiled then, a sad, tired, almost broken smile. “Raelyn, don’t you see? I adore you. I think you’re wonderful. Ten years ago I would have leapt at the chance to settle down with you, even if it would have meant being poor. But too much has changed since then. If you could whisk me away from this life, and I knew I never need worry again, I wouldn’t think twice about it. But you can’t. You think you can, but you can’t.” She put her hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating beneath the skin. “If you were your own man, with your own fortune, you could have me. I would sail to the ends of Elria with you, to someplace where nobody knew either of us, where we could start a new life without the shame and the scorn of what we’ve both been through. But you don’t have that kind of fortune, and that’s not going to change. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wished that you did, but wishing isn’t going to make it so.”

  Raelyn felt sick to his stomach. “You don’t see me as a man,” he replied dejectedly, even though he knew it wasn’t the truth. Callais just shook her head, pity in her eyes.

  “No, Raelyn, you’re very much a man. You’re a wonderful man, and very dear to me. But you’re not the master of your own fortune. I am.” She paused, not sure what to say. Raelyn let the words sink in, and they shook his bones. “You pray to Tuva that Perinor continues to show you favor. I pray to Tuva that she continue to show me favor. I used to live in constant fear of my father, and the things he used to do to me. I was powerless to stop him. Then I had a whoremong
er, and I lived in as much fear of him as of the men he was supposed to be protecting me from. For years I prayed to Tuva that he’d show me favor, that he wouldn’t beat me too badly or scar my face or leave me to freeze or starve like he did to some girls who had made him angry. Now I work for Genevar, and she pays a lot of money to make sure we don’t have to worry about any of that. I’ve been owned by men most of my life, and I won’t go back to that—not for you, not for anyone. I can’t, not even if it’s called being a wife instead of being a whore.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Rae. I really am.”

  Raelyn sat on the edge of the bed, feeling as though his legs were collapsing under him. Callais sighed. “I think you should gather your things, Raelyn. It’s getting late.” He nodded numbly, his mind racing without making any sense. He scraped together the coins on the bed, sliding them back into the pouch, their metallic clink sounding suddenly like chains. None of this should have gone this way. I wish I could give her what she needs to be happy, but I’m no high lord. And I’m never going to be. He dressed in silence, and then stood to leave.

  Callais took the coin he had given her and offered it to him. “Here. You should take this back. It’s yours.”

  “No, I gave it to you,” he replied, his chest still tight. “I still want you to have it. Please, buy something nice with it.” He walked to the door, then turned to look at her, pain in his eyes. “The offer still stands. If you ever change your mind, the offer will still be there.”

  She looked at him and gave him the same sad, sweet smile. “I know.”

  Chapter Eight

  “She doesn’t love me, Jethu.” The room pitched like the deck of a ship, and Raelyn leaned into the swell. He reached for the shot glass, anticipating the way it would slide across the table. It didn’t. Raelyn squinted.

  “Come on, Rae,” Jethu replied, his voice sympathetic. “You know she’d be with you if things were different. But it’s been like this for years. You’ve got to stop beating yourself up over it.”

  Raelyn steadied himself, reached for the glass, and gingerly wrapped his fingers around it. “You don’t get it, Jethu. All this time I thought it was just about the money, all about the money. But it’s not that. I have money now. But it’s not enough.” Raelyn brought the shot glass to his lips and sipped off the top. His mouth was already too numb to feel the burn of the liquor. He groped for the thought. “I just feel like….” He paused, trying to figure out what he was trying to say. It didn’t work.

  “I think I’m drunk.” Raelyn turned the glass over on the table. He had spent the long hours since his visit with Callais getting drunk. He tried counting the shot glasses, but got stuck at four, and then couldn’t remember if he had counted one of them twice or not. “Yup. Definitely drunk.”

  Jethu looked up at the girl who was coming over to the table and shook his head. She turned and moved off to another table. Probably better that way. Don’t want to drink myself to death. Then another part of Raelyn’s brain chimed in. If I want to drink myself to death, who’s he think he is to stop me?

  “I’m your friend, Rae. I’m not going to let you. You can get mad at me all you want, but in the morning you’ll still be able to get mad at me.”

  Raelyn blinked, confused. “Did I say that out loud?”

  Jethu nodded. “Yeah. You did. And I think you’ve had enough.”

  Raelyn pushed himself up to sit straight, and watched the room pitch again. The chair started swaying underneath him, and he reached out to steady himself, grabbing the edge of the table. “I’ve had enough when I say I’ve had enough.” He waved his hand, trying to flag down the serving girl, but she seemed like she was ignoring him. He tried again. She turned and walked back towards the bar.

  “Let it go, Rae,” Jethu urged. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself. I know things went bad with Callais, but—“

  “Callais! Gods, I’ve done everything for her. I gave up my life for her, now I’m trying to pick up the pieces for her. If it wasn’t for me, she’d have been tossed in the stocks for whoring in the Arena District. She’d never have been able to get an entertainer’s license—they’d never have let her in the Arena District. She’d be stuck down at the docks for the rest of her life. And what do I get for that?” He made an obscene gesture with his hand. “She’s got silk dresses and gold and jewels, and I can’t give her any of that. She says she doesn’t want to end up a washer woman. But I can give her something that none of the men who come to her can.”

  “I know, Rae, and I think she does too. But she’s a woman. How many times have you told me, ‘you can’t trust a woman’? They just break your heart.” Jethu suddenly grinned. “That’s why I break their hearts first!”

  Raelyn shook his head, overwhelmed with a sense of sorrow. “She’s different, Jethu. She’s special. I’ve known her since she was a kid. How’d she end up like this?” He looked up at Jethu. “I’m miserable without her. All I want is her, to give her a good life. But she doesn’t want that. She’d rather be….” he trailed off, finishing the thought in his mind: a whore. He looked back down at the shot glasses, silently counting them again. Anything to take my mind off her.

  Jethu seemed to squirm in his chair a bit. “Rich, Rae. She’d rather be rich. I know what you’re thinking, but she said it herself. She doesn’t want to end up a poor washer woman in the rents, or Tuva forbid the docks. She’s got money where she is right now. I bet she’d run to you in a heart’s breath if she wasn’t so scared of ending up poor.”

  “Was that supposed to make me feel better?” Raelyn asked resentfully. “Some friend you are, telling me why Callais doesn’t want me. I’ll tell you why she doesn’t want me.” Raelyn was raising his voice now, growing more irate. “Because I’m shit! I fuck everything up! I might have gold on me now, but in a month I’ll be back to teaching a snot-nosed little shit how to fight just so I can earn enough coin to drink myself blind!”

  “Whoa, calm down there, Rae!” Jethu looked around nervously. Some of the other patrons had begun to stare, but they looked quickly away when Raelyn glanced at them. “You have to watch what you say. Words like that could get you stabbed at Browin’s, and even up here it’s not smart to say stuff like that.” He lowered his voice and leaned in close. “Especially in the neighborhood where that snot nosed little shit lives.”

  “Fuck him,” Raelyn shot back, but his voice was low. “He can go hang a donkey for all I care.” He stood up and pushed his chair back, wobbling a bit.

  “What are you doing now?” Jethu asked, also standing.

  Raelyn looked at his body language. He’s getting ready to grab me. Raelyn thought for a moment about lunging at Jethu, but the room was still pitching like the deck of a ship. He thought better of it.

  “I’m going to piss, if that’s alright with your highness,” he replied, indignant. Jethu relaxed.

  “Yeah, that’s alright,” Jethu replied. Then he cracked a smile. “I just don’t want you so drunk that you stagger out of here and leave me to pay for your bottle!”

  Raelyn fumbled for his pouch, spilling its contents on the table. “Here. Take it out of this. I got plenty of coin.” Jethu’s eyes went wide and he started to scrape the coins up.

  “Stupid, Rae. Real stupid.” He snatched the pouch out of his hand and began putting the coins back in. “First, carrying this much—“ Jethu froze, then looked up. Their eyes met, and there was question and doubt in them.

  Aw, fuck. I still have the suns in that pouch. I’m an idiot. Raelyn looked back at Jethu, wondering what to say. How can I tell you about what happened?

  “That’s a lot of money, Rae.” Jethu started putting the coins back in the bag, slowly. His eyes kept their lock on Raelyn. “How did you get that kind of coin? You get some new students or something?”

  “Been saving up. Wanted to impress Callais.” He tried to steel his voice, but it came out shaky. Jethu didn’t look convinced. I’m a lousy liar, there’s no way he’s gonna be fooled. “It wasn’t enou
gh to impress her, though.”

  “What’s going on, Rae?” Jethu looked torn between suspicion and compassion.

  He doesn’t know what to think, whether or not to trust me, he thought. “What’s going on? I’m gonna take a piss, that’s what.” He snatched the pouch back from Jethu’s hand. “I’ll be back in few minutes.” He turned and wobbled toward the door.

  The cool air outside felt good, but didn’t do much to sober him up. He was only half a block away from a public fountain, and he made his way there in a crooked line. A couple of people were out in the street, and the latch on the painted wooden stall on the outskirts of the square was locked, its occupant relieving himself loudly. It’s so much easier down at the docks, he thought to himself, irritated at how much his bladder was bothering him. Just go out and piss on a wall. But no, not here. Might offend some lady with the smell of piss or a peek at a cock. He started looking around for a secluded alleyway, but was spared when the door to the stall opened and a man stepped out. Raelyn stepped in, taking his place. A pipe under the cobblestones brought the runoff from the fountain down to the privy, washing the waste into the sewers, and Raelyn took aim at the steady trickle of water.

  His thoughts turned to Jethu. I shouldn’t have let him see the platinum. I could explain anything else. His brain groped for an explanation he could give, but everything that came was only half coherent. Why does this have to get so complicated? he asked himself silently, cursing the fates. Then he decided to try a different tack. Tuva, please grant me the fortune to get through this without losing my wits.

  When he opened the door, there were two Coscan men standing in front of him.

  Raelyn’s guard went up immediately. He looked at the way they were standing and realized immediately that they were intent on blocking him in. One has a hand hidden—probably a knife. Both are standing like they’re ready for a fight. Neither one of them looks like they’re going to move for me. He felt himself sway a bit, and went with it. “’Scuse me,” he mumbled, taking a stumbling step forward. They’re committed. I have to try to get them off guard.