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‘I can listen. For the coin. As I said, you are paying for what you need.’
He shot her a look, and she could not but see his youth, his child’s eyes so terribly trapped in a man’s body and a soldier’s armour. ‘You’re a cold one, aren’t you?’
‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘I suppose I am.’
‘It may be what I need,’ he said, looking upon the floor of the tent, his hands now clasped together but restless. ‘Hard judgement. Righteous condemnation.’
She sipped the wine. It was on the turn. ‘High words,’ she said, ‘for a soldier.’
‘There were three boys in the forest camp. Young, not one taller than my hip. We were three squads. Fourth, Seventh, Second. Well, when we were done with the mother, some of the men – they went for the boys, too. Those boys … it wasn’t me who cut their throats, when it was done, but I wish it had been. I wish the mercy had been mine to offer them.’ He was trembling now, his entire body, making the cot creak. The words had rushed out, and she could see in his eyes that there was no going back. ‘I didn’t touch them, those boys. I could never have done anything like that. But now, all the time, they’re with me. The looks on their faces when we … when we did what we did to the mother. And then, the shock when we turned on them, too. Blank faces, like dolls …’
He wept.
Renarr remained sitting on the trunk, confused. Did this soldier want comfort? Or did he indeed seek condemnation? It was clear that crimes had been committed. Urusander would see those men hanged. In fact, it was possible that all three squads would dance on the rope. Her adoptive father was famous for his righteous outrage. ‘Have you reported this to your captain?’ she asked.
The blunt, toneless question met the man’s grief and swept it aside. She might as well have struck him across the face. Wiping at his eyes, straightening where he sat, he glared across at her. ‘Is that a joke? The bitch sent us into that camp! She could hear that mother’s screams from where she lounged in the next glade! Oh, and what was she doing while we murdered that family?’
‘Never mind,’ Renarr cut in, before the soldier could tell her what his captain had been up to. Renarr already knew enough to guess who the woman was. ‘And,’ she added, ‘obviously, Hunn Raal is not, strictly speaking, next on the chain of command. Is he? No, it’s the captains made equal, with only Urusander above them.’
The man abruptly stood, began pacing. ‘You can’t know,’ he said. ‘Hiding out here. Can you?’
She felt herself grow cold, and struggled to still her shaking hand as she drank again from the goblet. ‘You know who I am,’ she said. ‘You sought me out, thinking … what? That I would take this to Urusander? It was in your head – why, I have no idea – that my father and I still acknowledge each other. How did you work this out? Oh, he sends her down to the whore camps because she’s bored, the dear lass. Is it not what a father would do?’
He stopped pacing, and sat again, looking away. ‘Then deliver his justice yourself, Renarr. With your own hand! This heart wants to still its infernal beat! My bones close around it – I can barely breathe. I swear, those raped children – they’ve found me. Haunting me day and night now. It’s not what I signed up for, don’t you see? Not in my vow of service to the realm!’
‘It would seem that by far the most righteous punishment for you, soldier, is to leave you alive. Haunted by guilt for the rest of your years. You flee the ghosts of three raped boys, do you? Even when you did not take part? Well, how sad for you.’
He glared at her now, visage darkening. ‘I’m not paying for contempt.’
‘Oh, I am sorry. I was trying to make a point. It was clearly fine, then, that you raped the mother. Her ghost wanders elsewhere, one presumes. But those poor boys, with you watching on! Like botflies they’re now under your skin, gnawing their way into your heart. Of course, they were the ones watching you, at least at first, while you fucked their screaming mother.’
He stood, reaching for his weapon-belt. ‘For this, I’ll pay you nothing.’
‘For this,’ she retorted, ‘I will not be a coward’s path. You know the way to the keep, soldier. I am sure Urusander is there even now. And yes, he will accept an audience with a soldier of his legion.’
‘My squad-mates—’
‘Oh yes, them. Why, they’ll know, of course, once the charges are brought down. I see now why you thought it best to go through me. In that instance, you all stand accused, and all face the same punishment. You stand with your
brothers and sisters, and not once do they question you or your loyalty.’ Renarr finished her wine.
‘It’s not cowardice,’ the young soldier said.
‘Isn’t it? Your entire tale is one of cowardly acts, from the moment you rode into the forest, hunting Deniers. Slaughtering women and children? Setting their homes ablaze? Entire companies, so brave in how you outnumbered your every opponent, and set swords to their flimsy spears and whatnot. Your armour against their thin hides. Your iron helms and their oh-so-fragile skulls.’
He drew his gutting knife.
She met his gaze, unafraid, understanding what this night had brought to her. ‘So be it,’ she said quietly. ‘Give me, then, your one moment of courage.’
With a savage slash – beneath eyes suddenly triumphant – the soldier cut his own throat. Blood poured out, rushing from the severed jugular.
He toppled and she stepped back.
He made of this whore’s tent a temple, and me his priestess. Or, at least, someone to stand in for his god – as priestesses are purported to do. He uttered his crimes … But the body lying on the floor beside her cot, so motionless now when an instant earlier it had been bursting with life – she could not tear her gaze from it.
There are ways of leaving. The worst of these is also the most final. You see, the bastard left, yet left his body behind. Why does the thought make me want to laugh? Guests will leave a mess, won’t they just? It falls to the host to see it cleaned up.
I am no priestess. This is no temple. But the confessions spill out night after night – none as bleak as this one, to be sure. But it was coming. I should have seen that. The fools have blood on their hands, guilt in their souls. The High Priestess of High House Light isn’t much interested in all that, alas. And their mothers are far away.
