Jeff Salyards - Veil of the Deserters

“And that was just about the saddest thing I could think of.”

“That she didn’t recognize you?”

“Nah. That it meant she probably wouldn’t have known her da, even if it had been him standing there at the door. And now she would never get the chance.”

I almost said that at least the child had gotten to know her father in some small measure, but bit my tongue. And the alternate point, also thankfully unspoken, was that it was better to not know a father at all than to realize he was lousy at the job. But neither point was fair or just. Glesswik might not have been a good father, but it’s said some grow into it. He might have.

Both comments were really more about me than this child I would never know, so I kept my mouth shut.

Vendurro spun a knife in a circle on the table, watching the blade catching the light. “I wanted to leave. Something fierce. Mervulla knew what had happened even without me uttering a word, and I figured anything I did say would only be sticking my thumb in the wound. But a man’s got a foul job to do, whether it’s shoveling shit or telling a woman her man got killed out in the middle of nowhere for no good plaguing reason anyone could put words to, well, best just to get to it and be done with it.

“We weren’t what anyone would have called close, so I had no plans to hug her or even so much as touch her. But when she dropped to her knees, I put my hand on her shoulder. She was shaking, staring at the floor, sobbing real quiet like, not even bothering to whisper ‘no’ anymore, one arm real loose about her kid’s waist, who was crying louder than she was, though couldn’t have uttered why.

“I said, ‘He went out fighting, just like you’d expect. Fought hard, to the end.’ It was a lie, of course, or might as well have been, as I was the last to know he was dead. Well, second, next to the sobbing widow there on the floor in front of me. But it was a good lie, just the same. ‘He wasn’t here like you would have liked, I know. Won’t pretend he was. But you ought to know, he was a good soldier. Did that as good as anybody I met.’ Another lie, of course, but no worse than the first. But that was about all I knew to say.

“She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, looked up at me. It was a long horsey face, and red-rimmed and snotty just then, but it struck me, like it had once or twice, that she was a handsome enough woman. No woman’s a pretty crier, but I’d seen worse. And once she stopped crying, she was hardly a hag. She could find herself another husband. The widowcoin would keep her out of Beggar’s Row or whorehouses, and she’d keep making some coin of her own out of their property. But I hoped she’d find someone else, not a Syldoon soldier. A man who wouldn’t be riding off anywhere to die. But I figured that would be sour consolation, so didn’t speak my mind on that count. That would have been the only true thing I said, but probably the worst of the lot.”

“Probably a good choice to leave that unsaid.”

“Aye. Instead, I fetched the bag of silver from my pouch, told her she could come by Jackal Tower every other month to collect more until it ran dry, or we could send a courier, if that was easier. Her eyes narrowed then, and the anger I had been steadied for finally showed itself-body tensed up, hands balled into fists, and she got off the floor, ignoring the whelp who was really starting to let loose now. Stared at me, looked at the bag as if it were full of scorpions, and I thought she was about to slap it into my face, or launch into an attack herself.

“But she reached out real slow, unballed a fist long enough to close it around the bag, and said, quiet like, ‘Widowcoin, is it?’

“I nodded and replied, ‘Captain Killcoin-you remember him, of course-he takes care of the fallen and those they leave behind. Glesswik’s share-’

“She stopped me then. Said, ‘That’s the first you’ve called him by name. Since you rapped on my door. You know that, Ven?’

“I shook my head, though I knew she was right. And she pushed her child back behind her leg, stood a little taller, and said, ‘That’s the last time, too. Never going to hear another Syldoon bastard name him again. Anyone names him now, it will be me, on my terms. You had the best of him, the lot of you. Had the best years, the best Gless there was, left me with the rind. The rind and some coins. Now you get out of here, you son of a whore, and you step inside my door again, you better believe you won’t be stepping out again.’”

“That is harsh.”

“But true enough. I started to say something else, no idea what, as there weren’t nothing else worth saying, but she stopped me anyway with a ‘Go on. Get. Show me your backside, Syldoon, then never show me anything again.’ She started crying again, but the controlled sort, jaw clenched, eyes as forgiving as wet stones.

“Never felt as low in my entire sorry life. Gless was like my big brother, and she had the right of it-I knew Gless better than her, would be like to mourn him harder, even. And that rankled her as bad as anything. She was right, we left her next to nothing, even with the coins.

“So I walked out. And if I ever see that horsey woman again, it will be too soon for both of us.”

I wished there was something I could have said or done to lessen his load, but both of us knew there wasn’t.

Vendurro seemed to sense what I was thinking, as he shrugged. “Anyway. Sorry for yammering on about it.”

I suppose being a sympathetic ear while he unburdened himself was meager balm, but better than none at all. Unless talking about it made it worse. “I’m sorry you had to be the one to deliver the news, is all. But as you said, at least you put it behind you now. If you ever want to talk about it, or Glesswik, I’m always happy to listen.”

He nodded and started to ask me something when Braylar, Hewspear, and Mulldoos came into the captain’s quarters.

Braylar said, “It is time. Come.”

I asked, “The Caucus?”

Mulldoos replied, “No. Time to dig a privy. I got your shovel, you skinny bastard.”

I stood, and Vendurro and I followed them out. I suspected digging a privy might have actually been a preferable way to spend the afternoon.

We took the more circuitous circuit around the outer wall of Sunwrack, passing Towers large and small. Our own small company was the Tower Commander, three key captains, and a small number of lieutenants. I wondered if Soffjian or any of the other Memoridons would be attending, but then guessed the Caucus must have only been for the Syldoon soldiers. Which made me feel even stranger to be the only non-Syldoon in the group. Each of them had the same charcoal-colored tunic with a badge of the Jackal Tower on the left breast, and trousers, with a wide sash the shade of wine around their waists. And of course belts. With weapons. They never seemed to go anywhere without those.

I was a little surprised by that. In Anjuria and most any other civilized place in the world, men did not bear weapons in the presence of the highest lords, in particular kings and high priests, and I would have assumed this held true for emperors.

Mulldoos was the closest to me, and while I would have preferred posing the question to someone else, anyone else, I asked him.

He looked down as if surprised that he had forgotten actually buckling the thing on that morning. He tapped his falchion hilt. “What, this? Never go anywhere without one.”

“But with so much bad blood between the various Towers, doesn’t that invite, well, bad blood in the streets?”

“Bloodshed comes whether she’s invited or no. Pushy entitled bitch, bloodshed.”

I watched the leaders of another nearby Tower filing out and took care to lower my voice a little. Their color and cut of costume were essentially identical, although the badges were obviously different, marking them as men of the Elk Tower. “But isn’t it more likely, with everyone armed all the time? And isn’t the Emperor worried?”