We Leave Together

by J. M. McDermott

  When the rain came—and a little rain came every day—the poisoned earth leaked into the groundwater, and flowed into the ocean.

  My husband and I had spent countless weeks experimenting with methods to break the spell without ingesting the dust ourselves.

  We still seek our solution to this day.

  ***

  When the three men got to the final tower, Jona gestured at Salvatore to wait outside. Sergeant Calipari opened the door as if he owned the place. He stomped inside, and coughed at the stink of two men living in close quarters. Piles of animal bones rotted in a heap in the corner with the husks of vegetables and broken dishes. The two men had their cots on the other side.

  A table had a deck of cards abandoned mid-game. One of the chairs was broken, and someone had shoved it under the table.

  Someone was sleeping in his cot. Someone else was undoubtedly up on the top level, staring out across the red valley, and watching for fires from the other towers.

  Jona found a lamp next to the barrels of kerosene against the far wall. He dug around for a new match, and after he lit the match, Sergeant Calipari had already pulled out the broken chair. He was trying to fix it so someone could sit down in the chair. The seat had cracked in half, and one of the supports had been completely ripped out. Calipari rolled his eyes. He threw the broken chair in the corner with the remains of food.

  The sleeping fellow rolled around from the wall.

  “Who’s there?” he said.

  “Your vigilance is an inspiration,” said Calipari.

  “Nicola Calipari, that you again so soon?”

  “Hello, Corporal.”

  “Haven’t seen you in a long while.”

  “It’s been a year. I get stuck with this detail because no one thinks the Pens needs a sergeant for long.”

  “Well, inspect away. Try not to be too loud. I’m trying to sleep. I have to take night watch tonight.”

  “Get out of bed you lazy oaf. I want you to meet someone.”

  “I’ll meet him later.”

  “Get up! You’re about to meet Lord Joni.”

  “Who? A lord?” said the sleeping sergeant. He rolled back around. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. He had a wide face, and a neck creased with fat. He had the kind of puffy features that push up against the seams of his loosely-buttoned uniform as if it had never fit. “Did you bring me some kind of joke?”

  “No,” said Calipari, “I told you. I brought Lord Joni.”

  Jona bowed gracefully. “Corporal Lord Joni at your disposal, sir.”

  “A corporal? A lord? I’m going back to sleep, Nic. Make yourselves at home.”

  “At least introduce yourself first.”

  “Howdy, Corporal Lord Whatsit. I’m Corporal Belari.”

  “Come on, that’s not all of it. How many medals did you win in the war?” said Calipari.

  “Seven,” said Belari, “but I don’t win medals anymore. I just watch the hills and wait for something to happen. When it does, I light the torch for the soldiers to come and stay out of the fighting. Me and Nic fought together, you know, way back when. How many medals you win, Nic?”

  “I didn’t win medals,” said Nic, “you know that. I was just a kid. Kids don’t win medals. Mostly kids were fodder at the front of the line.”

  Belari laughed from his chest like he was wheezing. “I forgot,” he said.

  “I run the Pens Station now. My girl and me are getting married, and got ourselves a nice farm southeast of here already. How come you ain’t out, yet?”

  “I stayed in the army too long.” He rolled up. “You bring me anything good?”

  “I got something for you. Your partner up on the roof. What’s his story?”

  “Him? Terrible card player. Terrible temper, too. He broke the chair. Private Ginoa. He’s been here about six months.”

  Jona glanced over at Nicola and nodded at him. “I’ll go up and say hello,” said Jona. He tested the ladder before he started to climb it. He adjusted his cloak and his sword. The wood bent and groaned beneath his boots. The wood stank like it was rotten and needed to be replaced.

  On the roof, Jona opened the trapdoor. He looked around for Private Ginoa. The private had his back to the trapdoor and didn’t turn around.

  Jona snorted. “Aren’t you going to say hello?”

  Ginoa glanced over his shoulder. “I’m on duty,” he said, “What’re you here for?”

  “Inspection.”

  “You need anything from me?”

  “No.”

  “Good.”

  Jona nodded. He walked the perimeter of the roof. He looked down at Salvatore, waiting below with the mule. He nodded at him.

  Jona pulled a knife from his boot. Private Gino turned at the sound of the sheath.

  Jona shoved his knife into a chunk of wood. “Checking for water,” he said, “You keep these dry?”

  Private Ginoa turned back to the hills. “No, the fat one does that.” Ginoa yawned. “You bring us anything?”

  Jona stepped up behind Ginoa. “No,” he said, “You like it here?”

  Ginoa scoffed. “What do you think,” he said, “but I sit a bit and maybe I get to do something else later. Better than scriveners or stock boys, right?”

  “I was a scrivener. I never sat a watch tower or walked the roads before,” said Jona. “You’re right about it being better out here than scrivening. It’s easier work.” Jona pointed out at the dead valley. “That’s a strange thing to see,” he said. Ginoa shrugged. He stared across the red sands, with Jona’s hand.

  “As long as nobody’s crossing it…” he said. “They come once a year, and we light the torch and we make a break for it. My partner does it every year. Says he has a great hiding spot on a hill below one of the bluffs.”

  “What bluff?” said Jona. “Can we see it from here?”

  He turned to point.

  Jona’s hands left the scenery. He snatched Ginoa’s hair. Jona sliced Ginoa’s neck as fast as a hawk crashing into a pigeon.

  Ginoa breathed in. He clutched at his neck. He held a hand in front of his face, with all his blood. He tried to breathe in again, but he couldn’t breath.

  Jona slid the knife down Ginoa’s back, looking for a crevice in the ribs. Jona pushed the blade into a lung.

  It was so quiet now, on that tower.

  Ginoa clutched at Jona’s leg with one hand. His other flailed in the air. Jona had a strong arm on Ginoa’s shoulder. Jona held Ginoa where he was on the roof, bleeding. Ginoa’s legs struggled to fall forward, away from the knife.

  Jona held on, careful to keep the blood off his uniform.

  When Ginoa stopped struggling, Jona gently placed him back on the roof. Jona wiped his hands off on a dirty handkerchief. He tossed the handkerchief into the wind. He signaled down to Salvatore.

  Salvatore nodded, and walked to the edge of the cliff. Salvatore waved at the cliffs, and then clamped his hands together over his head. He repeated this until he saw a small cloud of dust on the edge of the red valley.

  Jona went back downstairs to Calipari.

  Down below he found Calipari standing over the corporal. Jona caught Calipari’s eye and pointed at the elderly corporal. Calipari pulled out a sword. He placed it against the corporal’s throat.

  “You sure?” said Calipari, to Jona.

  Corporal Belari leaned back in shock at the naked blade. “What the…?” he said.

  Jona sighed. He walked around to stand behind Calipari. He placed a hand on Calipari’s shoulder. “No doubt in my mind,” he said. “The other fellow was a rookie right off the training ground. You think he has time to build up a network when this fellow sees the raiders come every summer to skirmish a little?”

  Calipari frowned. He held the blade up to Belari’s throat. “You been betraying the city?”

  “What?!” he said.

  “Have you?” said Calipari. “Because the captain tells me someone here is betraying the city. Lord Joni, who is a lord and noblema
n come to investigate, makes you the birdy to the north.”

  “It’s not me,” he said, “It has to be Ginoa.”

  “Why?” said Calipari.

  “Because it’s not me!”

  “It’s him,” said Jona, “Private Ginoa don’t even know what the word ‘birdy’ means yet. He’s only been in a bit. You’re the one been here forever, wondering what to do with yourself when you retire.”

  “It ain’t me.”

  “I’m with Jona here, Corporal. My gut is telling me it’s you. You been a leach on the city for years.”

  “Prove it.”

  “Captain’s word is all the proof we need. It’s either you or… what was the kid’s name?”

  “Ginoa,” said Jona.

  “Right,” said Calipari, “So did you ever slip anything to anybody? Maybe you look the other way when a fellow crosses the dead valley. Maybe you keep a record of the boys you meet passing through and pass the info along.”

  Corporal Belari leaned back from the blade. “You already made up your mind? Why don’t you push the green boy on the roof a bit? Why don’t you give that a shot? I’m going nowhere. Where would I go?”

  Jona shrugged. “I know a good boy when I see one. That’s what it’s like when you’re as bad as me. I come up out of the Pens like Nicola, and we’re bad men, Corporal. Captain sends us to do bad things.”

  Calipari pulled his sword back. “I’m already sick of this assignment,” he said, “so hold still while Jona ties you up. It’s time we have a faster conversation.”

  Jona pulled a rope from the supplies. He wrapped it tight around Belari’s arms and chest. He kept wrapping it in one long bind down to the legs against the chair.

  Calipari put his sword away.

  Jona picked up a hammer from a pile of tools in a sack in the corner. “Which hand you want to start with, Nic?”

  Nicola rolled up his sleeves. He looked down at Belari’s trembling hands. The man’s mouth was clamped shut, whimpering. The sergeant shrugged. “That one ain’t shaking so much,” he said, pointing at the left.

  “Right,” said Jona. He swung the hammer hard, smashing Calipari on the back of the head. He did it again, quickly, before Calipari could register the hit.

  Calipari fell forward. He blinked in shock. He reached around to his head, his eyes rolling. His knees wobbled. He tried to turn.

  Jona hit him again.

  “Thank Imam!” said Belari, “Thank you. He’s crazy. I’m no bad bird!”

  Jona looked down at his friend on the ground. He looked around for more rope. He saw none. Belari had all the rope in the building around his wrists and feet. Jona needed it for Calipari.

  Belari still hadn’t deduced what was occurring. “I swear to Imam, to Erin, to anybody you want, I’m no bad bard,” he said. “Please, believe me,” he said.

  Jona sighed. He placed a hand on Belari’s shoulder. “I believe you,” he said.

  Jona wrapped his fingers around Belari’s throat.

  The relief on Belari’s face dropped like a waterfall. Jona looked the old man in the face while the air died and the blood stopped and the fear swelled up and burst like a dike leaking tears.

  The plan was the guards had to go. They couldn’t be trusted. Lady Ela’s plan was Jona is the only survivor here among the king’s men.

  Jona knew the plan. He clenched his jaw. He stared this old, worn-out sack of a man in the face. Jona watched and felt the struggle draining from him.

  When Belari was dead, Jona tied up Calipari before he could wake up, exactly as Belari had been tied up moments ago.

  In his head, he wanted to scream.

  He felt so numb he couldn’t stand it.

  Calipari was still alive.

  The one thing he wanted in the whole city, and he’d beg his future wife for it, and he’d beg her forever, is that Nicola Calipari must live, and Jona wasn’t going to be killing anybody anymore unless they had it coming.

  It was something human in him that longed for death.

  When the raiders came, from the north, they set up camp around the tower. Calipari was bound and groggy, with blood leaking from his nose.

  They were expecting everyone to be dead but Jona and Salvatore. They sneered and pointed.

  Jona stepped in front of him.

  “No,” he said. “No, this one stays alive. He’s mine to kill. He’s mine. You don’t touch him. I’m doing him at my leisure.”

  “We won’t talk around him.”

  “You’ll do what I tell you to do and like it. We’re too far in to stop now.”

  “She said you were more trouble than you’re worth.”

  “You and I both know a desk sergeant from the Pens isn’t worth much against the word of Ela Sabachthani. I’ll take care of him when I’m good and ready. I thought we could use an extra witness. If he’s pliable, he’s a reputable enough fellow with lots of friends in the king’s men rank and file.”

  Calipari spit blood out at Jona’s feet.

  “We talk outside. We don’t talk in front of him.”

  “Fine.”

  The head of the raiders was called Moose by his men. He didn’t look anything like a moose. He was the shortest man in the room. He had a thin body, and his hands weren’t particularly rugged. He had tiny spots of ink stains in his hair, behind his right ear, as if he was in the habit of scratching himself with his own quill when he was thinking. He wore the same stiff leather armors as his men, but the only weapon he carried was a small knife, conspicuously plain.

  “We have one week until the patrols come this far again,” said Moose. “When we return with prisoners, it’s important for you to remain inside. If they see you alive, we’ll have to kill all of them, and start again. We’re in a race against time, here. The army tends to notice two dozen men in the woods taking prisoners for an enemy city.”

  “The plan seems a little elaborate, doesn’t it?” said Jona. “I’m supposed to chase you off in the night, free some prisoners and make a break for it?”

  “Some of the prisoners will be us. You’ll be safe enough. She doesn’t want you scratched.”

  “What I mean is that it’s elaborate. Why not just send me out here and make up a bunch of nonsense and run it through the criers. Nobody’d know the difference.”

  “The soldiers would know,” said Moose. “The soldiers who will be cleaning up this mess will know. As king, you need to think wider than a few narrow streets. We’re here to put on a good show. You stay inside with your prize. If you can’t turn him, let us know. We’ll fix the problem for you if you don’t want to get your hands dirty.”

  “I got my hands dirty already, fellow. I’m so dirty, all the rain in the night won’t work. Nothing works. You ever see me coming for you, you’re rolling into the water no matter what. I’m rowdy enough to scare the Lady Sabachthani. That’s how come she’s sweet on me.”

  “I have heard good things about you,” said the man. “We can work with you. We can even trust you a little. That’s why I didn’t have someone killing your man while we chat. There will be no trouble here. I will not have any trouble. We know what we’re doing. The King of the Night is more dangerous than you, even out here on the edge of nowhere. Don’t say stupid things where other people can hear you. You stay inside.”

  “Try not to kill too many people,” said Jona.

  “What?”

  “Be careful, is all I’m saying. You know, so there’s plenty of survivors to sing my name on the street.”

  “It’s bloody work we do, and you had better leave us to it. You’ve got your own unfinished bloody work.”

  Moose and Jona looked over at the door where Calipari, bound and bloody, waited with death written on his face. Calipari wanted Jona to be dead.

  CHAPTER 20

  We could piece together the events from the tracks.

  This hill has this precise curve. Raiders love high ground. They stand there. The road curves below the hill like a stream running around the he
ight. Most travelers are grateful to avoid climbing up the hill.

  The horses were grateful for the curve of the road. The guards that walked beside the cart didn’t mind much either. There were two guards, and Djoss, which makes one for each cart. The caraven master led the first cart. His son led the second. The third cart was driven by a tired looking old man that whistled when he talked through a gap in his teeth. Rachel hid in the shadows at the back of the last cart. Raiders often liked to come at carts from the rear, take as much as they could carry and run back into the woods. Rachel sat at the last cart, watching the road behind.

  The first volley of arrows struck the horses of the first cart. The animal on the hill side screamed. It tried to jump from beneath the yoke, but only managed to push the other horse to the ground.

  The arrows of the next volley seemed to descend from the clouds in slow motion. The guards had gazed with open eyes at the raiders. The merchant had maintained his seat and tugged at his reins as if his horses had stumbled in holes.

  The second volley struck the driver of the second cart—poor boy—with two arrows through, one in the face and the other in the arm. He died. (We found him dead in the woods and buried him before we found Jona lying in a bluff. There were others dead from these raiders, and what we didn’t bury, the forest took just fine on its own.)

  By now, the merchant had come to his senses enough to smack the reigns. One horse tried to run, but the other was jumping and tearing at his yoke, unable to use her front legs at all with arrows in them. The cart flipped, killing her, and the yoke broke free for the horse that had jumped. He bolted, blood down his sides.

  One of the guards had decided to run up the hill after the source of the arrows. Djoss jumped behind the second cart, a shield over his head made of the top of a crate. Rachel had poked her head out from the third cart, looking to see what was happening. She jumped out of the cart, and gasped for air, looking around for Djoss.