by Robin Hobb
“He will not join me,” Soldier’s Boy replied sullenly.
I heard Lisana’s soft rebuke. “And in your heart, you do not wish him to. You hold him as far from you as he does you. Are you jealous even of yourself? Do you think I could love you and not love all of you?”
I smiled to hear that, even as it amazed me. Trust the heart of a woman to be large enough to encompass two such disparate people and make them one. I felt his magic push me away from her, but not before she was aware of my thought. I felt her warmth follow me as she enfolded Soldier’s Boy in her embrace.
Freed, I arrowed through something that was neither space nor time, traveling across something that was not distance. Unerring, Soldier’s Boy’s push sent me to my cousin Epiny. I found her sitting in a rocker by a fire. She was neither asleep nor awake as she rocked but wearily insensate after a difficult day. She had always thought babies were sweet little cherubs who slept and ate and slept again. She smiled at her childhood memories of her own little sister. The moment Purissa even gurgled in a discontented way, she’d been whisked away by her nurse, her wails vanishing with her when the nursery door was shut firmly behind them. She’d always imagined that her nurse quickly discovered what discontented the child and solved it and that Purissa went back to being a placid and contented infant. Solina seemed placid and contented only when being held by her mother. Held and rocked, endlessly rocked. From elsewhere in the cottage, I heard a child’s voice uplifted in querulous complaint, and Amzil’s irritable hushing. Dia was unhappy about something. The babe in Epiny’s arms squirmed and wailed a thin protest in sympathy.
Epiny sighed and tears started under her eyelids. She was tired, so very tired, and her head hurt. Spink had stopped taking the Gettys Tonic and forbidden it to everyone in his household. Amzil had nearly left over it; if she’d had anywhere else to go, she would have. The whole household had been miserable since Spink had decreed it, and he had been so unreasonable. He wouldn’t allow it in the door, not a drop, not even to soothe the children when they had nightmares.
“But you know, he’s right, Epiny.” I inserted myself into her meandering trail of thoughts.
“But being right doesn’t get him far. When he was right about the dangers of a Speck attack, it only brought him blame for not shouting more loudly and taking more action.”
“What did Spink do that night?”
She sighed. The baby on her breast was not quieting but only wailing in an endlessly hopeless way. With the toe of one foot, she started the rocker moving again. “He said he’d dreamed of you that morning, and asked me if I had. I thought I might have, but I couldn’t remember details. Only that you were very agitated and kept saying that I had to warn everyone. So he tried telling people that he had a bad premonition and that we must all be extra wary that night. But of course everyone just laughed at him. The Specks go away in winter; everyone knows that. But he made Amzil and me take the children, some bedding, and some food and go spend the night in a little stone cottage outside the gates. The cottage was abandoned years ago, and it was so cold and he forbade us to have any fire or light at all. We ended up huddled together like mice under a doormat. He told his men, soldiers accustomed to working in supply, and announced that he was having a night drill, and that all must turn out for it armed and uniformed for the cold. And he took them outside the fort, too, and made them march a patrol around the town outside the fort. He thought that when the attack came, it would be noisy, with guns firing and men shouting. He never even knew that the Specks were inside the fort until the fires blazed up. He was riding back toward the fort when—Nevare? You are here? Really here with me?”
“Yes, Epiny. I’ve dream-walked to you. I wanted to be sure you had all weathered the attack intact.”
“Small thanks to you!” she said with sudden deep bitterness. “Nevare, Spink saw you that night! He says that you looked right at him, eye to eye. He had been on the point of firing, and then when he saw your face, he could not!” A shiver of outrage ran over her. “Some have faulted him for that, calling him coward or traitor! Yet none of them faced up to you, either. How dare they speak so about him, how dare they! And how could you have put him in such a position, Nevare!”
“Epiny, you know how I am bound! I did all I could, to come and warn you both. It was as much as I could do!” The accusing tone of her words tore me. How could she believe I had done that of my own will? “Even now, I am held! My time to speak with you is short.”
“I know. I do know. But still, it is a heavy thing for him to bear, for there is no possible way he could explain it. Others saw you, Nevare. Or what they said was your ghost, come back as a Speck. The heaviest losses were taken by the men who were in the mob that night when you fled Gettys; only five now survive who witnessed your death. Rumor mutters about the town. Some say your ghost led the attack to take vengeance on the town. The barracks where the men were massacred as they tried to escape? Those soldiers were under Captain Thayer’s command. You remember who he was, don’t you? Carsina’s husband? The monster that was going to let his men rape and murder Amzil, simply as a way of tormenting you before they beat you to death! Now, whenever he sees Amzil on the street, or even little Kara sent out on an errand, he glowers and stares like a madman! He rules his own troops like a despot. I fear him, Nevare. I fear that he will stop at nothing to feel he has avenged himself. He says that Amzil is worse than a whore and he will prove it. Oh, how could you take vengeance, and then leave us here to bear the brunt of the ill will you woke?”
The agitation of her thoughts rose and with it the tempo of her rocking. Little Solina had not ceased wailing the whole time and now, sensing her mother’s upset, cried even harder.
“Epiny, please! I took no vengeance! That was not me. No matter what they had done to me, they were still the King’s soldiers, the men of my own regiment. I would not slaughter them like that. I cannot describe what it was like for me. I witnessed how they were murdered, with no chance to defend themselves. I would not massacre our soldiers like that, the innocent alongside the guilty. I would not choose to see anyone die like that! Surely you know me that well.”
“I thought I did,” she said in a low voice. “Hush, child, hush. Please hush!” The cries of her baby were jarring to her, agitating her in a way almost beyond my understanding. I knew she was not asleep, but in the light trance of a medium.
“Be calm, Epiny. Be calm for your child’s sake, and for me. Stay with me. Stay.” I breathed calmness at her. “Think of a good time. Think of—” I scrabbled through my knowledge of her, trying desperately to find a calm and happy memory for her. Nothing came to mind. Everywhere Epiny was, turmoil seemed to follow her. “Think of that first evening when we played Towsers on the floor of the drawing room in your father’s home. The first night you spent any time with Spink. Think about that; hold to the good memories.”
A wave of sadness washed through her, dulling her agitation. Her rocking slowed. “Will I ever live in such a house, so comfortably, again?” she asked me plaintively. “Will I ever be free of counting each slice of bread, of having to say to my household, ‘That is enough now, you’ve had your share, no matter what your belly says’? Oh, hush, baby, please hush. Sleep for a little while. Please let me rest.”
“Are things so difficult now?”
“Difficult? ‘Difficult’ is a word that only applies where there is hope. Nevare, we are starving. Unless the lands warm soon and the fear ceases to keep our men from hunting, we will all die. Yesterday, Amzil went walking outside the fort and came back with some wild greens for us. Oh, they tasted so wonderful, but there were not much of them. Gettys is shattered, Nevare.” She gave a small, bitter laugh. “We missed our cemetery soldier after that attack. No one had thought to do as you had done, and dig extra graves for the winter or stockpile lumber for coffins. Folk used to say you were morbid, waiting for us to die. After the fires, there were huge arguments over whether it was more important to build coffins for the dead or us
e whatever wood we could salvage to keep warm. The ground was too frozen to dig graves; the bodies had to be stored. I’ve heard it said there is a wall of coffins out at the cemetery now; the thaws have softened the ground somewhat, but fear and discouragement boil out of the forest there like a poisonous spring. It is hard to get anyone to work there and harder still to find someone who works hard enough to get anything done.”
I thought of Kesey and Ebrooks and pitied them both. I was sure that particular duty had fallen on them.
“We are in a bad way for any sort of supplies. The Speck seemed to know exactly where to strike; they burned the warehouses, and the barns and the stables, and so many homes! Those who stayed have had to crowd in together as best they might. Many others chose to flee when the fear came back. They could not tolerate it, not even with the Gettys Tonic. Not just families, but soldiers deserted by the dozen. I’ve no idea what became of them; I expect a lot of them simply lay down in the cold and snow and died.”
“Epiny, Epiny, I am so sorry.” As I listened to her thoughts wander, it seemed very unlike the usual meandering of her previous prattling. There was nothing fun or gossipy about her words; it was a recounting of an endless circle of despair. I could not think what else to ask her. Did I want to know the details of how badly Gettys was damaged? No, I decided. Belatedly, I wished she had not told me where Spink had hidden them, for whatever was in my mind might be ferreted out by Soldier’s Boy.
“The despair and the fear are the worst part, Nevare. They come down thicker than ever before. Even the children talk of death and dying as an escape from it. There had been problems with suicide among the forced workers, as I’m sure you know, but not like it is now. Every day, they find prisoners who have hanged themselves. Some of the guards laugh and say it is for the best as we can scarcely feed them, but my heart goes out to them. I have less sympathy for the murderers and rapists who leave in such a way, but some of those fellows were little more than boys when they were sent east, and some for no more than stealing a silk pocket handkerchief!
“I fear I will die here, Nevare. I will tell you true, what I dare not say to Spink. I fear I will die by my own hand!” She took a shuddering breath. If I’d had a heart of my own, it would have stood still with horror. She lifted a slow hand to pat her baby’s back. Little Solina’s wails were subsiding, more from weariness than because she was comforted. “She is what holds me here,” Epiny said in a soft whisper. “I no longer live for any joy I find in life, or for love of my husband. I live only because I know if I killed myself, her misery would be even deeper than it is. Poor little bird. I can tell when the sorrow and discouragement wash through her. Sometimes I find her in her crib, staring at the wall not even crying. That isn’t natural for a baby, Nevare. I wonder that she can feel such things and still live. She does not eat well or sleep soundly. No wonder so many babies born at Gettys die before their first year is past. They have no will to live.” Her voice faded away. What followed was a shamed whisper. “Last night I asked Spink to desert. I told him that as soon as the roads were less muddy, we could all run away. Anywhere would do. There could not be a worse place to live; there could not be a worse life for us than this one.”
“What did he say?” The words dragged out of me unwillingly. I was stunned by her words. More shocking still was my tiny hope that Spink would do as she had suggested.
“Nothing,” she said sorrowfully. “Nothing at all. He had just come home for the evening meal. Not that there was enough food to call it a meal. He did not even eat his share of it. He just put his coat on and went out again. I think he went to join the work crews. They went out for the first time yesterday. They no longer care if they are hungry or cold. The prisoners were rousted to go out, but they did not need to be forced. Half our soldiers marched out there with them. I don’t know what is going on, Nevare. But Spink didn’t come home last night, and I don’t know if he will ever come back. Neither Amzil nor I dared to go out to look for him. Gettys has become a dangerous place for a woman or a child alone on the streets. All is darkness here, even in brightest daylight. I believe that I will die here, one way or another. I have come to understand Amzil’s fear; the worst would be to lie dying and know that your baby was alive and helpless. That would be the worst.”
A wordless horror rose in me. “Epiny. Do not do anything desperate. Please. Just—just live on. A day at a time, a night at a time. Things will get better.”
I had no basis for telling her that things would get better. I feared, as she did, that things could only get worse for her and for everyone at Gettys. Still, I lied bravely. “The supply wagons always start to run again in spring. They are probably already on their way. Hold out a little while longer. Have faith in Spink and believe in yourself. You are brave and strong, the bravest and strongest woman I’ve ever met. Don’t give up now.”
Her thought was strained as if she forced herself to form it. “I’ve told you, Nevare. I cannot give up. Not while Solina lives and needs me.”
“And she will live. She will. And so will you.” I hesitated and then plunged on. “As soon as the roads dry out, Epiny, as soon as they are passable, you must take your horse and cart and go back to Old Thares. If you tell Spink what you’ve told me, he’ll understand. Leave Gettys. Go to your father. Take refuge there until the regiment is moved to a better assignment.”
“Flee like the coward I am,” she said in a low voice. “Go back to live at ease on my father’s wealth, listening to my mother tell me what a fool I was to marry a new noble’s son. Live with her denigrating Solina. No, Nevare. Dying would be easier than that. But I shall do neither. I pledged my life to Spink when we wed, and here I shall stay, and do the best I can.”
“But you urged him to flee.”
“And that was wrong. And if—when he comes back, I will tell him I know it was wrong, and beg his pardon. No. I will stay here with him, come what may.” She sighed heavily.
The babe on her breast was finally asleep, but she scarcely dared move for fear of awakening her again. Her breathing deepened and our connection became less tenuous. Instead of merely feeling the sensations she felt, the rocking chair, her aching back, the warmth of the small fire, her hunger, and the weight of the baby against her, I found myself holding both her hands and looking at her. The aspect that she presented to me was very young and plain; she saw herself, I suspected, as childish and powerless to change her situation. Her lips were chapped and her hair fuzzing out of her braids. I gripped her hands firmly and tried to put my heart in my words. “Epiny, you are brave and strong. When you share that with Spink, who is brave and strong himself, you anchor each other. Don’t give up. You are right. I was wrong to tell you to flee to your father. Whatever becomes of you, you must face it together.”
She looked deep into my eyes. “I will stay here. To the end, whatever it may be, I will stay here. I ask only this of you, Nevare. Dream-walk to my father. Tell him of what has befallen us. Then come back to me, to tell me that he has said he will send help to us. Please, Nevare. Can you do that?”
“I don’t know.” Her request staggered me. Did I know my uncle well enough to attempt such a thing? It had always been easy to dream-walk to Epiny. Her abilities as a medium left her sleeping mind open to my intrusions. My close bond with my sister Yaril had let me contact her, but I wasn’t sure how much she believed her “dreams” of me. My uncle? I respected him, yes, and loved him for all he had done for me. But to enter his sleeping mind and speak to him? “I’ll try,” I said, though my heart misgave me. I doubted that I had much time, and I had desperately wished to see Yaril, to know if she was all right. It was a hellish choice; to use my time trying to reach my uncle and then return to Epiny to give her some hope, or to find out how my younger sister was faring as she faced an arranged marriage in a household run by my deranged father. “I’ll try. I’ll try right now,” I told her, and let go of her hands.
Find my uncle. Find Sefert Burvelle, Lord Burvelle of the West. He was th
e heir son of the old line of my family, the holder of the family mansion and the estates in and near Old Thares. My father had been the second son, his soldier-brother. When my father had served his king well in the wars with the Plainsmen, the King had elevated him to the status of a lord with a small grant of land, making him one of his “new nobles.” That had not suited my uncle’s wife. Lady Daraleen Burvelle felt that one Lord and one Lady Burvelle were quite enough, and that my father had moved above his proper position in life. That had prompted her starchy welcome of me when I came to attend the Cavalla Academy in Old Thares. She blamed me because her daughter Epiny had met and fallen in love with another “new noble” son and a poor one at that. When Epiny had scandalized her by running off with Spink, that had been the final straw. Although my uncle still thought warmly of me, my aunt regarded me as the one who had ruined her chances to engineer a well-placed match for Epiny at court.
I tried to push my dislike of my aunt aside. It was clouding my memories of my uncle. I did not want to focus on her so much that I accidentally wandered into her dream. I tried to find quiet within my soul, to ignore the nagging sense that my time to dream-walk was ticking away, and to focus instead on my memories of my uncle. I summoned up the sensory memories that linked me to him: the smell of his tobacco, the taste of his brandy, the warmth and casual comfort of his study in Old Thares. I focused on the warm clasp of his hand on mine whenever he greeted me, and the sound of his voice as he said my name.
“Well, there you are, Nevare. And how have you been? Will you join me in a game of Towsers?”
I had to smile, knowing how much he detested the inane game that Epiny and his younger daughter Purissa so often trapped him into playing. In his dream, his daughters were in the room with him, cards in hand, but the moment I entered his dream, they faded into shadows in the background. They went on playing, slapping down their cards and leaping up to shout wildly when they’d made a point, but the actions and the sounds of their voices became distant and muffled.