She headed back to the bar, giving Lita a pat on the shoulder as she went by. Lita was at a table with a tattooed man with long, black hair. His accent marked him as from the south, likely Thrikyl. She was sitting on his lap practically pouring rum down his throat. Bonnie gave him a critical look. There was an art to what Lita was doing. You wanted them drunk enough so they spent money on you, got real generous and maybe even lost a bit of the stiff in their flagpole, but you didn’t want them so drunk they got mean and started hitting.
Fortunately, Lita was a pro. The customer was pretty far along, but Bonnie wasn’t picking up any bad feel off him. In fact, Bonnie had a gut feeling this one was a crier. Some men were that way. Wanted to tell you about their mothers or some girl who treated them wrong. It was all the same with her. Usually it was easier than tossing on the mattress, though not always. Not that it was an issue for her anymore. Not since Rome.
Then there was Sereh. Bonnie’s eyes shifted to the thin, hollow-eyed woman dancing awkwardly with a man in the corner of the room. Sereh hated men. Hated them with a passion. There was a disturbing kind of crazy inside Sereh. Usually the girls who worked at the Pig got to know each other, got drunk, cried, got sick together. It kept them alive. It kept them mostly sane. But Sereh wouldn’t have anything to do with the others. Bonnie’s gut told her they’d find Sereh dead in an alley some morning.
But you never knew, she reflected. Sereh could change. She had only been here less than a year. Talind was proof that change could happen. She’d been hollow and bitter when she started here three years ago and she was a damn sight better now. She’d done a lot of crying on Bonnie’s shoulder over those years. Bonnie knew she had good shoulders for crying on. It happened often enough.
The last woman in the room was Rowena. She was one of those women who seemed completely oblivious to the effect her body was having on the men she encountered, but who never missed the reaction of a single one of them. And she loved every bit of it. She was tall and exotic, with dark skin and almond-shaped eyes. Probably from Fanethrin, though no one knew for sure. One night she got drunk after the Pig closed and said something about escaping from her owners, but Bonnie never heard any more. She played dangerous games with the men, always stringing several on at a time, making them think they might be the one she’d let carry her away, but secretly laughing at them.
As bad as this life could be, Bonnie reflected, what the women who worked here were running from was usually worse. At least here there were men whose job was to pound into pulp anyone who tried to hurt the women. There were even friends. Out there, on your own—or stuck with a man who turned into a monster every time he drank—it could be a lot worse. She could speak to that experience herself.
Which had a lot to do with why she hadn’t taken Rome up on his offer to move into the palace. Sure, he loved her now. But what about when he tired of her? Or worse, when someone finally hired the right assassin and killed him? Where would that leave her? How long would she last at the palace without him to protect her? She had no knowledge of the power games they played there. She’d be a kitten amongst the coyotes. At least down here she knew the score. She knew how to survive and do more than survive.
She surreptitiously touched her stomach and the bulge growing there. She was getting pretty far along in her pregnancy and would have to make some decisions soon. So far, no one had noticed, because she was a big woman and she wore loose dresses. But eventually she wasn’t going to be able to hide it, not even from that blind fool she’d fallen in love with. Was she going to stay here and raise her child around thugs, drunks and prostitutes? How would Rome react when he found out? You never knew how a man was going to react to the news that he was a father. It might be the last time he ever spoke to her. Even if he didn’t turn away, he wouldn’t want her raising a child here, but he couldn’t very well bring them up to the palace, could he? A king couldn’t publicly live with a prostitute, no matter how popular he was. The people just wouldn’t stand for it.
Probably he would put his foot down and move her into a small house somewhere closer to the palace. That way he could have her near but still pretend to his people that she wasn’t important to him. She tried picturing the house. Nothing fancy, but with a bit of a yard. Maybe room for some flowers. It looked nice, and she admired it for a moment, then she slammed the door on it. She was a fool. Nothing like that was going to happen. What was going to happen was that he would forget about her, or he would die with a sword stuck in him, and she’d be back to living off her wits.
No, the only path open to her right now was to just keep this baby quiet, keep her eyes open and her guard up.
As if her thoughts summoned him, the door swung open then and Bonnie heard a familiar, booming voice. She waited quietly, standing at the end of the bar while he exchanged jibes with patrons and employees. He had two guards with him, quiet men who kept their hands on their swords and scanned the people in the room. With the Pig’s no weapons policy, they should be the only ones in here with weapons other than the staff, but Bonnie was glad to see that Rome was finally taking some measures for his safety. The city was far too uneasy these days. Probably it was Tairus or Quyloc who insisted on it, because Rome was too stubborn. She’d have to thank them if she ever got a chance.
Then Rome’s eyes fell on her and his face lit up in a smile that split his bearded face. The sudden, frank openness of his response caught her off guard and she felt her heart speed up and a blush spread across her cheeks. Astonishing that he could still have this effect on her, as guarded and wary as she was. Like a little girl she was.
“I would’ve been here sooner,” he said, taking her in his arms. “I’ve been lost without my Bonnie. But there’s so much to do. It never ends.” There was a winsome, puppy look in his eyes that crushed the remainder of her defenses and made her want to slap him and kiss him at the same time. She settled for putting a finger against his lips.
“Can we just go upstairs where we can talk quietly?”
“Lead on, my lady,” he said gallantly, bowing toward the stairs.
“Such a gentleman,” she responded, pretending to titter behind her hand and fluttering her eyelashes at him.
“Only so I can take in the view on the way up,” he whispered, giving her a smack on the butt as she passed.
She didn’t reach for her sap this time.
Dreah, one of the young women who helped run drinks, knocked on the door to Bonnie’s quarters a couple minutes later. She was carrying a tray with four mugs of ale on it. Bonnie took the mugs and pushed the door shut with her foot. Rome drank half the first mug in one draw and wiped at the foam on his mustache with the back of one meaty hand, then sighed. “That takes the dust off.” He leaned back in his chair with another sigh and turned to her. “I’ve missed you.”
Bonnie sat down, pulling her chair near his. She put her hand on his arm. “I have too.”
He finished the mug of ale, set it down and scratched at his beard. “I’ve got bad news. I know you don’t like it when I string it out so I’ll just say it outright: We’re marching tomorrow.”
Bonnie’s heart fell. For a moment she saw herself kneeling beside him on a battlefield, her tears mixing with his blood. She shook her head and the image fragmented and drifted away. She wanted to argue with him, to ask him why he had to go, but she didn’t. That was not her and it would change nothing.
“Where are you going?” She tried to make her tone casual and light, but she didn’t think she pulled it off.
“An army’s gathering in Fanethrin. A big one. If we sit and wait for them, we’ll lose. There’s a place called Guardians Watch, where the Firkath Mountains and the Landsend Plateau come together. If we can get there first, could be we can beat them.”
“That sounds like a long ways away.”
He nodded wearily and she saw lines on his face that had not been there before. The burdens of rule were aging him. “It is. We’re going to have to travel light and fast.” He belched a
nd reached for another ale. “I shouldn’t be telling you this. You’re probably a spy for Melekath.”
“Sure I am,” she agreed. “I’ve been waiting here at this tavern for you for years.” She got up and sat in his lap. He smiled and squeezed her.
“I feel good right now. Like this is where I belong.”
She said nothing, only stroked his hair.
“I want you moved into the palace before I go,” he said. “The city’s getting worse. You’ll be safer there.”
“I’m safe enough right here, Rome. The Grinning Pig has a strong door and only a fool would tangle with Terk and Arls.”
“Still not as safe as the palace.”
“Let’s not spend what little time we have fighting. I’m not going and that’s final.”
He frowned at her. “You’re a damned stubborn woman.”
“I know. And if I wasn’t you wouldn’t love me.”
“I just want you safe. You have no idea how important you are to me. If something happened to you, I don’t think I could…” He choked up and his words tapered off.
“I’ll make you a deal, Rome. Don’t get yourself killed. Come back to me and I’ll move into the palace with you.”
“You mean it?”
“Yes…of course.” Bonnie was surprised at herself. She hadn’t meant to say those words. It was seeing his vulnerability appearing so unexpected like that. It caught her off guard.
“Well, I’m just going to have to come back alive then, aren’t I?”
Bonnie held him close then and tried not to cry.
Twenty-three
“Are you ready?”
Nalene jumped and her heart started pounding. It was late and she’d been frantically busy since word came earlier in the day that she and her Tenders—those who could handle their sulbits—were to be ready to march first thing in the morning. The hallway outside her quarters was dimly lit and she hadn’t seen Ricarn standing against the wall. Lost in thought, worried about the upcoming march and the battle that would ensue, Nalene had been caught completely unprepared and she’d come awfully close to screaming.
“What are you talking about?” Nalene snapped.
“I asked if you were ready. Are you?”
“Why wouldn’t we be ready? We will be traveling light. There isn’t much to pack.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about. Are you ready?”
No, Nalene thought, they weren’t ready. It was too soon. The Tenders had nowhere near the control that they needed. The sulbits were too small. She didn’t have enough capable Tenders. “Of course we’re ready.” Could Ricarn hear the uncertainty in her voice? She peered at the woman, trying to discern an expression in the poor light, even though she knew it wouldn’t help. It was impossible to tell what Ricarn was thinking even in the best light.
Ricarn stared at her and it seemed to Nalene that she could feel the weight of the woman’s gaze on her skin. She wanted to say something, to break the weight of this unbearably long, silent moment, but she forced herself to stay quiet. She was sick of letting Ricarn get the better of her.
Finally, Ricarn said, “I believe you are. You don’t believe it, but you are. And so are they. When the time comes they will do what they need to do. Some will die, of course. But it is war, is it not?”
Nalene’s mouth dropped open. She had never expected to hear that. Oddly enough, she felt better. She really did.
“It’s late. Is there anything else?” Nalene asked.
“Yes.”
Then Ricarn just stood there, not speaking, not moving. Nalene realized that she was holding her breath. How did this woman stand so utterly still? How come she didn’t fidget or shift her weight like an ordinary person? She wanted to shout at her. “Then what is it?”
“I came to tell you my sisters and I will not be accompanying you.”
Nalene’s first response was relief. This woman unnerved her. She couldn’t think straight when she was around her. But she was the FirstMother. She was in charge. “I will consider your request. You should have brought this to me sooner. We leave in the morning.”
“I know when you leave.”
“You should have—”
“I did not come to ask permission,” Ricarn said calmly. “I came to share information. We can best help here.”
“Well,” Nalene replied, thinking fast, “I was actually thinking that just yesterday. Without a sulbit you will be useless in battle anyway.”
Nalene peered at Ricarn’s face but could not see if there was any response to her words. She heard a buzzing then, as if a couple of bees had gotten into the estate house and swiveled her head, trying to see where the noise was coming from.
“So we would,” Ricarn replied. “We are only simple women, after all.” Then once again she just stood there, completely motionless, her eyes glittering in the weak light.
“Is there anything else you want?” Nalene cried at last. “I have many things to do.”
“No,” Ricarn answered. “I want nothing. I never do.”
“Okay,” Nalene said. “Good.” She started to walk away, then paused and turned back as a sudden thought hit her. “One thing.” Ricarn was still standing there motionless. “There is a Tender named Lenda. She…something went wrong when she went for her sulbit.”
“She could not control her sulbits and now they control her.”
“Yes,” Nalene said, wondering how Ricarn knew. “If you find her… help her. She doesn’t know what she is doing.”
“We will,” Ricarn said. “I do not believe she is forever lost.”
“You think…you think there’s still hope for her?”
Ricarn considered this. “There is. But perhaps not for much longer.”
“I just…I just…I don’t want her to get hurt.”
Ricarn was silent for a long minute. Nalene had the feeling she was far away. “My sisters will look for her. They will find her. Our eyes are many.”
Nalene hung there, beset by feelings she did not understand. Finally, Ricarn walked away and disappeared down the stairs. “Thank you,” she whispered, soft enough so Ricarn could not possibly hear her.
Twenty-four
Quyloc was standing at the balustrade on the balcony outside his quarters in the darkness, looking down at the sea far below. Though there was only a sliver of moon, there was enough light to reveal the sharp rocks that jutted out of the water at the base of the cliff. It was several hundred feet down, more than enough. He could do it right now. Just climb onto the balustrade and jump off. It would be over in a few seconds. All the fear, all the confusion, all the suffering. The world would be safe then; the gromdin would have to find another person to use. Why should he keep fighting it?
A gust of wind blew across his face and when it died away he realized he was no longer alone. He turned wearily.
“What are you doing here?”
“I was curious to see if you were still alive,” the little man said mildly, his hands folded in front of him.
“As you can see, I am. At least for now.”
T’sim walked to the balustrade and looked over. “It is quite a long way down. I don’t imagine you would survive the fall.”
“That’s the point, isn’t it?”
“Do you think it would solve your problems? Dying?”
“All the ones I can think of.”
“A final choice each person has, the option to end one’s life. I have often wondered why more people do not choose it. It seems a logical choice, when nothing else seems to do.”
“It’s not so easy as that.”
“But why not?” T’sim seemed genuinely puzzled. “You are frail creatures. It does not take much for you to die.”
“I wasn’t talking about that. I mean it’s not so easy to make the choice.”
“I confess I do not understand that either. When life has become unbearable, when there are no more solutions, why not choose to simply be done with it all? What could be more logical?”
“But I didn’t come for that.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I came to ask you a question.”
In spite of himself, Quyloc was intrigued. What question could he possibly answer for this…being?
“What do you think happens when you die?”
“What kind of question is that?”
The little man blinked. “An honest one, I assure you.”
Quyloc stood there and stared at him. He looked utterly sincere. He considered the question. What did he believe? Then he shrugged. He was so tired. How long since he’d actually rested?
“You get to stop,” he said finally. “You get to rest.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad,” T’sim said.
“No, it doesn’t.” Thinking of Lowellin’s words: It wants you alive. “There are worse alternatives.”
“I think that more people don’t choose death because they fear it. What I don’t understand is why they fear it so much?” T’sim eyes seemed very bright, almost birdlike, as he stared at Quyloc, waiting for his answer.
“I don’t know. We’re afraid of the unknown I guess. Maybe we’re afraid something worse is waiting for us.”
“Worse? But I have seen many dead people and there is nothing. They are simply gone. How can that be worse than suffering?”
“Maybe it’s because this life is all we have. It may not be much, but at least it’s something. We’re afraid to give it up because then we have nothing. Do we have to keep having this conversation? Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
T’sim continued as if he hadn’t heard Quyloc. “I suppose since your time is so short you do not really have the chance to consider the alternative.”
“What alternative is that?” Quyloc asked. He didn’t really care. He wanted this conversation to be over, for everything to be over…one way or the other.
“The alternative to death is to live forever. People act as though they want to live forever without ever considering what it might actually be like to do so.”
Guardians Watch Page 17