Chapter 10

The good captain’s wife was wrong after all. Aden left a week later. He left with a single bedroll and without the caravan that never materialized. His thoughts were murderously cloudy as he hunched over the wagon gate waiting for Ezza to finish his goodbyes with his mistress. The tableau of the sergeant standing in the shadow of the front gate, stealing one last kiss, made him cringe with shame and regret.

“I’m not coming with you,” Zaya said, sitting up in his bed. “You have fancy words and can impress anyone you talk to. So? Sometimes you have a backbone and sometimes you blubber like a baby. Then you mope. I never know which Aden I am talking to at any moment.”

“What do you mean, ‘which Aden?’”

“Morose Aden. Teenage tantrum Aden. Cynical Aden. Look-down-your nose-at-me Aden. Depressed Aden. Do you want me to continue?”

“Feh. I have my moments, but they are just moments,” Aden said, sitting up and crossing his arms.

“I understand, Aden; I understand that terrible things happened to you,” Zaya said, waving her arms with mock drama. “No one has ever been stricken to the core like you. You don’t understand me, you don’t understand anyone, and you don’t understand squat. I mourned my husband– black, bleak misery. No one mourns like Aden though. You get angry and pissy; no, you call it introspective, big word man. You want me, but only on your terms.”

Aden clenched his jaw and chose silence. He stared at door latch as if it was fascinating.

Zaya snorted. “I won’t have you. I can’t even understand you half the time. If I went with you, I would have to bash your head in with the iron skillet while you’re sleeping because you are driving everyone insane.”

“I am quite sane, thank you.”

“Your sanity is the point, Aden. You think that you are being reasonable, that you are handling your life well. It worked for a few days. Now, though, the unbearable tragedy of your tragic life is a sign around your neck that you expect everyone to read, daily.”

“I don’t mope about.”

“No, you just sigh at the end of every sentence. You let out a sigh when you see something that reminds you and when you don’t see something that reminds you. You cry in your cups, yet you hide the tears. All day and all night is Aden pain.” Zaya pulled up sheet over her breasts.

“So, what am supposed to do with this pain?”

“For a smart man, you are an idiot. You take it all in and you live with it like the rest of us. You start dying the day you are born; the least you can do is shut up about it.” Zaya dropped the sheet and climbed over his legs to the edge of the bed. She reached over for her clothes and dressed herself. Turning back to him, she said, “Come back in a year. My husband told me that I should give everyone a benefit of a doubt. Maybe you are so smart that you can think your way of your head.”

“If I don’t return?” Aden asked, almost snapping.

“Then either you are dead, or you were just fucking me to empty your balls.” She closed the door gently as she left.

Aden slept poorly the rest of the night as he tossed from side to side, feeling every lump and depression in the straw mattress. Her face came to him as an old crone spitting oracles and laughing manically. He saw her reaching out for him with tears in her eyes, but he could not draw near. He started to relive the duel with Brule, and that was when he woke himself up. Better to fight the demons of sleeplessness than walk through the supreme humiliation again.

“I am a tormented soul,” he said aloud. “Horseshit. I never married all those years before coming here when my life was full and pleasing. Why would I think that I had changed who I am and suddenly desire to settle down with one wench? Why would I add a live demon to the ones already lurking in my head? Horseshit indeed.”

The door latch did not respond to his rant and neither did the bed sheet. Aden packed the last items in his travel sack and wended his way through the cold dark inn. A sack of hard biscuits and dried fruit was perched on the bar. Aden grabbed the bag before quietly slipping out the door. He waited alone in the stables for the sun to rise and for the keep to awaken.

Ezza released his lover, sending her back to the tavern. He offered a cheery greeting to Aden and clambered aboard the military wagon, perching himself on the front board. The driver whipped the oxen once, signaling the journey southward was beginning. Aden was so relieved to be moving that he lay down among the large sacks and promptly fell asleep.

Aden awoke under a full sun overhead. His head was throbbing as if he had drunk his fill the night before, but no such luck had befallen him. His last evening had been spent in the arms of betrayal. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Where are we?”

“Oh, I’d guess four or five hours south of the fort at oxen speed,” Ezza said. “The open road fills your lungs with hope.”

“Or allergies,” Aden said. “The demons in my head are banging on drums and they have no sense of rhythm.” Both men on the riding board chuckled, but Aden was not looking for an audience. The oxen were plodding, and Aden was holding the back of his neck with both hands attempting to shut off the pain. He sat up. “By the gods of infinite stupidity! What are they doing here?”

“They?”

“These infernal broadcasting pillars are on the side of the road is who ‘they’ is,” Aden was screaming. “No one uses these pitiful devices anymore. They run forever, of course, but they never stay in tune.”

“Are you making light of the ancient guardians of the road?” Ezza asked. “Your accusations are blasphemy in some quarters of the kingdom.”

“Stuff your superstitious claptrap up your backside,” Aden said as he leapt down from the slow-moving wagon. He ran over to the pillar and reached behind it After fiddling for a moment, the pillar turned from a pale darkness to a thick, light-sucking black. “Relief!”

He walked back to the stopped wagon and reached over for the water skein. Ezza was staring at him with a gimlet eye. “You want to explain yourself.”

Aden was tempted to say “no” but held his tongue while enjoying the freedom from pain. “These pillars are not guardians of the road. Quite the opposite, they are recharging stations for wizards who are, well, using a lot of phyzeec in one moment.”