by M. L. Brown
LANCE ELIOT LEARNS THE FOLLY OF TEARS
I SHUFFLED INTO THE kitchen wrapped in a blanket the following morning and found my companions at the table.
“What took you so long?” asked Regis. “Adele woke you at least twenty minutes ago. Breakfast is almost ready. We were about to send someone to drag you out of bed.”
“I woulda dragged him out of bed,” declared Conrad, bouncing on his chair. “I woulda grabbed his feet and dragged him round the room till he waked up.”
“That’s enough, Conrad,” said Adele, busy at the stove. “Please sit down, Lance. Breakfast will be ready in a minute.”
I soon tore into a plate of fried trout and scrambled eggs. The table held bread, butter, milk and some sort of jam I didn’t recognize. It had a tart flavor, somewhere between a green apple and a sour cherry. Regis informed me it was made of valeberries.
Tsurugi kept silent during the meal, not making even a pretense of friendliness. Miles was also quiet, except for his hacking coughs. I was worried about him. The fevered look had come back into his eyes, and he hardly ate anything. By contrast, Regis and Conrad were prodigious eaters and cheerful conversationalists, eating enough for three men and talking enough for six. They were kindred spirits.
As Adele poured us cups of tea, Regis said, “Pardon me for asking, madam, but did you hear that noise last night?”
“What noise?”
“I heard a crash from upstairs.”
Our hostess set down the teapot. “It was nothing,” she said. “Conrad got up for water and knocked over a hat stand. I’m sorry if the noise woke you.”
Conrad put up a storm of protest when his mother told him to get ready for school. “I wanna stay and talk with Regis,” he said. Only when his mother threatened to spank him with a large wooden spoon did he grumblingly climb out of his chair.
Before he could leave the room, a massive man blocked the doorway. I instantly became conscious of an overpowering smell of whiskey. Like Conrad, the man in the doorway had thick brown hair. Unlike Conrad, he had thick stubble and a purpled nose. His eyes were rimmed with red and the corners of his mouth sagged downward. It was not a sight to improve one’s appetite.
“Who the [unprintable] are these people?” he demanded, glaring at Adele.
“They are my guests,” she said, not looking at him. “They stumbled in during the blizzard last night, and I didn’t have the heart to turn them out into the cold.”
“If you take in every [unprintable] with a pity-story you’re going to ruin me, woman.”
“You may have preferred to have let them die, my husband, but I took in these men and I’m going to look after them till they’re ready to leave.”
“I’m going to work,” slurred the man. “They’d better be gone when I’m back.”
He lurched out of the kitchen, and a moment later the front door slammed. Conrad emerged with a blank face from beneath the table, picked up his satchel and slipped out of the room. He seemed to have forgotten his objections to school.
Adele shut her eyes and took a deep breath.
“I apologize for my husband. He went to the pub last night—to meet some friends, he said—and was caught there when the blizzard swept in. He had a few drinks—to keep himself warm, he said—and came back around two o’clock, when the blizzard had passed on. He knocked over the hat stand, not Conrad. I’m sorry you had to see him. He’s a good man when sober, but drink makes a monster of him.”
“We understand,” said Regis. “Please don’t worry about it.”
“Your kindness outweighs his, er, lack of kindness,” I added.
“I’m going upstairs,” she said. “When you’re done with breakfast, leave your dishes by the water barrel. I’ll wash up later.”
With that she left the room.
We finished our meal and repaired to the parlor to discuss our plans.
“The sooner we get out of this house, the better,” I said. “I don’t want to cause any more trouble.”
“I agree,” said Regis.
“Tsurugi and I will take a room at the inn and leave for Riku tomorrow. Do you want to come with us, Regis? Faurum is less than a week away from Riku.”
“Won’t Faurum be under siege by the Nomen?”
“It might be. If it is, you can stay in Riku until the siege is over, and then go home with Tsurugi.”
“Home,” said Regis. “There’s something I haven’t thought about in a long, long time.”
I turned to Miles.
“You’re planning on staying here with your sister?”
He coughed. I took it as an affirmation.
“Then we’ll take you there today and make sure you’re comfortably settled in,” said Regis. “Won’t we, Tsurugi?”
Tsurugi nodded.
Having settled our plans, we packed our bags, straightened up the parlor and waited to bid Adele goodbye. Tsurugi slipped into the kitchen and left some money on the table to pay for our food and lodging.
“It’s time for us to be going,” said Regis as Adele entered the parlor. “Please tell Conrad I said goodbye. Thank you so much for your kindness, madam. You saved four lives last night.”
“Thank you for our food, our baths and our beds,” I said.
“You are—” Miles was interrupted by a fit of coughing. “—so very kind,” he finished.
“Thanks,” said Tsurugi.
Adele smiled, and for a moment the care passed from her face. “You’re welcome,” she said. “El is with you, travelers. Go in peace.”
We left the house and walked to the river. Pavements ran along either bank, flanked with sturdy stone railings. A bridge arched over the river near the center of town. As we paused at the bridge for Miles to remember the way to his sister’s house, I watched slabs of ice rush downstream on the current. The river was strong and dark and deadly cold. The railings were not ornamental. Anyone who tumbled into the Arteria River would not come out alive.
Miles led us to a house by the river. “This is it,” he said with fevered surprise, as though he could hardly believe it was still there. We knocked, and the door was opened by a woman in an apron. She took a single look at Miles and then pulled him inside, calling for her husband to put on the kettle. We were left standing outside.
“Should we go in?” I whispered.
Regis entered. We followed him and stood in the parlor, waiting. At length a man came into the room and examined us with bewilderment.
“What is it that has happened to Miles?” he asked. “Who are you all?”
I explained.
He fell into a chair. “I can’t believe it,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe it. You and Miles were prisoners of the Nomen? Katarina and the children are dead?”
“I’m afraid so,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
I had to tell our story over again when the man’s wife joined us. She actually fainted when I described the sacrifice to Ilt, reviving only when her husband trickled a spoonful of blackroot down her throat. When I finished our sad tale, she ran out of the room to comfort Miles.
The man told us his name was Vito. He had a black mustache, which he twirled fretfully as he spoke.
“Friends, I thank you for saving my brother-in-law and bringing him here. We will take care of him, have no concern. I can’t…it’s too hard to believe that the Nomen would do such a thing.”
“I’ve the nightmares to prove it,” said Regis.
The woman came in. “He’s asleep,” she said, sitting on a sofa. “Dear, hadn’t you better leave for work? You’ll be late.”
“The shop can do without me for today,” he said. “Ana, darling, this is a heavy charge. What can we do for him?”
“We’ll have to tell the children when they get home from school. Oh, how can we explain this to them? ‘Children, your aunt and cousins were murdered by savages, so you must be very kind to your uncle.’ How can they understand such things?”
“I’m sure they will unde
rstand, Ana. Children are wiser than you think.”
“Pardon me,” said Regis. “I think we should go. We can’t thank you enough for looking after Miles. He’s our friend. I’m glad El has put him in your hands.”
“Are you leaving Ventus?” asked Ana.
“Tomorrow,” I said.
“Come back to visit before you go,” said Vito. “He will want to say goodbye.”
“Of course,” I assured him. “See you then.”
We walked to the river and leaned against the railing, gazing across the water at the houses on the other side.
“They’ll take good care of him,” said Regis. “I’m sure of it. But what about us?”
“We need hunds and supplies,” I said.
“I’ll get them,” said Tsurugi. “Meet me at the inn at six.”
He strode away.
“Does he have enough money?” I wondered.
“He’s Tsurugi,” said Regis, shrugging. “I’m beginning to think he can do anything. Now what will we do until six o’clock?”
I extracted my valores from my pack.
“That’s a lot of metal, old boy,” he said, eyes wide. “Where did you get all that?”
“Tamu gave it to me. Now what can we do with it?”
We needed clothes. Most of our garments had been left behind when we laid them out to dry by the river. After visiting the marketplace and replenishing our wardrobes, we decided to go for a stroll around town.
According to Regis, Ventus was famous for its hot springs. Some enterprising businessman had built a resort around them, charging visitors ten valores for a day of bathing. We decided a visit to the hot springs would be good for us.
It was an experience unlike any other, like an outdoor bathtub, with children splashing in the shallows and a beautiful view of the mountains. There were nearly a dozen pools, ranging in temperature from icy to scalding.
We switched pools every twenty minutes or so, shivering in the cold. The boardwalks that connected the pools were perpetually wet. During one of our dashes from one pool to another, Regis slipped and slid right off the boardwalk into the snow. A soak in the warm water soothed his temper, and I laughed about the incident for the rest of the day.
Around noon, we changed into dry clothes and betook ourselves to a local restaurant for lunch. Our meal was followed by slices of apple pie, cups of chocolate and a few games of dealings. Regis won every game. My exasperation was cooled by another stroll, which ended in the town library. As Regis struck up a conversation with the pretty librarian, I perused the shelves and devoured passages from histories and essays.
At six o’clock we went dutifully to the inn to meet Tsurugi. He wasn’t there. We ordered a light supper and ate. No sign of Tsurugi. I had two pints of beer, ignoring my companion’s disapproving remarks. Tsurugi was nowhere to be seen. We decided to reserve a room. The gray-haired proprietor took us to the second story and showed us a room with three beds, a fireplace and a table.
“If you’ll wait a bit, masters, I’ll send up a porter to get a fire going.”
“Could you heat some bathwater for us?” I inquired.
“And could you send up a bowl of chestnuts?” added Regis.
The proprietor smiled, set his candle on the table and bowed himself out.
There soon came a knock on the door. I opened it and stood back as two porters maneuvered a tub of hot water into the room, set it on the floor and left. A third porter dumped an armload of wood in the fireplace and built up a cheerful little blaze. Before leaving, he put a bowl of chestnuts and a nutcracker on the table.
“I feel awfully cold,” said Regis, pretending to shiver. “Must be my fever coming back. I should bathe first.”
“That’s my bathwater,” I said. “Keep warm with your chestnuts.”
“I’ll flip a coin for that bathwater,” he said, holding out a ten-valor piece.
I took the coin, suspecting it was unbalanced or had the same image on both sides. To all appearances, it was a normal ten-valor piece.
“Heads or tails?” I asked.
“What?”
“The side with the emblem or the side with the inscription?”
“Inscription.”
I tossed the coin, caught it in my open palm and stared at it. In the Shadow of the Throne, Year 712 shone up at me. I swore.
“Just my luck,” said Regis with a smile.
He undressed and stepped into the tub. Suppressing my annoyance, I took a chestnut from the bowl, cracked it open and began toasting the meat over the fire.
Seven or eight chestnuts later, the door opened and Tsurugi came in.
“Hullo Tsurugi,” I said. “Have a chestnut.”
I heard a sharp gasp. Regis sat upright in the tub, splashing water on the floor.
“What’s wrong?” he said.
Tsurugi was crying.
“What’s wrong?” repeated Regis. “Tsurugi, what happened?”
Tsurugi sat down on one of the beds. “Faurum is destroyed,” he said. He sounded very tired. “The Nomen took the city and killed everyone.”
“What about Kana?” demanded Regis.
Tsurugi didn’t answer. Regis sank into the bathwater with a stunned expression.
“There’s more,” said Tsurugi, and my heart froze as he turned to me. “The Nomen reached Riku.”
“What?”
“There were no survivors.”
“No!” I shouted, springing to my feet. “It can’t be—hang it all, it can’t be—she can’t be dead.”
I ran from the room, stumbled down the steps, left the inn and blundered through the snow, hardly able to see through my tears. Kana was dead. Tamu was dead. Aidan was dead.
Maia was dead.
The only Vocomancer in Gea was dead, and I was stranded here for the rest of my life. Which, if I had my way, would be only another minute.
I reached the bridge over the river. The water rushed beneath me. I climbed onto the railing and gathered my nerve for the plunge.
My friend, I had never before considered suicide. I have not considered it since. It is truly terrible to stand at the brink, realizing you have the choice either to step back and save yourself or to step forward and die. I suffered many dark and awful moments throughout my adventures in Gea, yet that, my friend, was the darkest and most awful. Even the horrors that were to follow couldn’t equal the terror of staring at death and realizing I didn’t want to die.
I would have thrown myself into the rushing black water anyway, but for one thing. As I balanced atop the railing, trying to force myself to step forward, I saw a gleam of red out of the corner of my eye. I turned my head to see what it was, lost my balance and fell backward into the snow on the bridge.
It was useless. My concentration was broken. There was no way I could work up the nerve to climb the railing again. I lay in the snow and cried.
When I awoke, I was in an unfamiliar place. I shut my eyes with a grimace. What a headache. Was I dead? If so, I thought, this must be the afterlife. It’s not an inviting place. By Jove, what a headache. If this is the afterlife, it isn’t heaven. But I don’t see any fire—or lakes of ice, for that matter. In fact, it looks like a pub.
I was overwhelmed with relief. It’s only a pub, I thought, and I’m hung over. Why was I drinking last night?
Memories crashed into my aching head. Faurum and Riku were destroyed. Maia was dead. I was trapped in Gea forever. I almost jumped off a bridge. I shuddered. I almost jumped off a bridge. Now that I was standing in the light of day, the thought made my heart faint.
“Oi, you there!” shouted someone. I winced. The noise didn’t help my headache. “What are you still doing here? Get out! Get out or I’ll throw you out.”
Looking around, I saw a burly young woman waving a filthy rag. “Pardon me,” I said as politely as I could (not very politely). “I didn’t mean to—”
My apology was cut short by the rag, which smote my face like the stone that slew Goliath.
; “Out!” shrilled the woman.
Pain shot through my head. Dropping the rag on a table, I blundered out of the room and into the street. The sunlight hurt my eyes, so I leaned against the wall of the building to get my bearings. I hadn’t stood more than ten or fifteen seconds when the woman opened a window and dumped a basin of greasy cold dishwater on my head. Cursing and spluttering, I stumbled into the street and was almost run down by a hund-drawn cart.
When I made it back to the inn, desperate for a cup of blackroot and a hot bath, I found our room locked. I didn’t have the key. Blistering the hallway paint with my curses, I sank to the floor and held my head in my hands. If I was going to live a new life in Gea, this was some way to start it.
“Lance!” cried a voice.
“My head,” I whimpered. “Hush, will you? I can hardly stand it.”
“Sorry,” whispered the voice. It was Regis. “How are you holding up, old boy?”
“I’m not,” I said. “Where the devil is Tsurugi?”
“Out looking for you. Here, let me open the door. Get in and warm yourself. I’ll have the porters bring up some bathwater.”
“And a cup of blackroot,” I pleaded.
“And a cup of blackroot,” he promised.
I was soon washed and in dry clothes. Clutching my cup to my chest, I huddled against a wall and stared at the floor.
“I’m sorry,” said Regis in a thick voice. He sniffed and wiped away tears.
With a surge of guilt I remembered that he too had lost someone dear to him. “No, I’m sorry,” I said. “Kana was a good man.”
“I never apologized,” said Regis. “I never apologized for leaving him.”
“I’m stuck here,” I said. “I’ll never see my parents or my chums in California or my mates in Oxford. I’m stuck here.”
Even the realization that I would never again confront the Skeleton brought me little consolation.
“Well, old boy, at least you’ve got us,” said Regis. “Not that we’re much comfort. Not when we’re as broken as you.”
“Is Tsurugi broken?”
“I think so.”
“Did he have family in Riku or Faurum?”
“I don’t know. He keeps making gloomy remarks, but he hasn’t shed a tear since last night. He’s been as cold and distant as—”