Chapter 7

Shaven, shorn and scrubbed clean, Aden sat in a chair in the corner of the tavern with his back to the wall and the captain of the guard sitting across from him. The tavern was filling up with men and women, much to his surprise. He had assumed that a far-flung outpost would host a manlier posse, but it seemed that women held their own. He also tracked Zaya as she served drink orders or placed bowls of food on the thick wooden tables. She had a sharp tongue for everyone, which gave him an unearned sense of comfort.

“My wife tells me that I shouldn’t have over-bargained with you,” the captain said. “She says you could turn me into a frog if I ticked you off a bit too much.”

“If that is what the missus is willing to pay for, Captain Ellingwood,” Aden said, “I’m willing to hear her out.”

The captained roared with laughter. “You may not have been too far off the mark. A man goes to work and the women all gather in the doorways and cluck like chickens, comparing notes. ‘My man is too this and my man is too that.’”

“They don’t cluck like chickens,” Zaya said, swapping out the captain’s empty tankard. “They screech like owls and you are terrified they are going to swoop down upon you, tearing the stuffing out of you like they should.”

The captain laughed again. “They also have a secret network of spies that keeps track of where we are and what we say.”

“Only you, dear Captain Peckerwood,” Zaya said, as she turned to leave. Aden raised his eyebrows at the daring insult.

“The wife’s pet name for me,” the captain said. “Say one foolish thing, ‘your butt got bigger’, and suddenly the world knows my household business. Women.”

Aden took a long draught of ale, trying to hide his discomfort. Peace in the household between a man and his wife was outside of his experience. His eyes continued to track Zaya though. The captain noticed and drummed his fingers on the table for attention.

“You may think you fancy her,” the captain said, “but most think she buried her heart with her husband. He was an aloof man with little use for words with the rest of us. He was her everything though. Damn shame being a widow so young. There is a lot of living between now and the grave; damn shame to waste it on what you cannot have.”

“There is a lot of truth in that last statement,” Aden said, thinking of his own recent history. He looked down and sighed in a wallow of despair. He decided to change the subject. “Let us talk about corns and silt and green scum for a moment.”

They talked into the night until finally the captain called it an evening. Aden looked across the room and saw that most of the patrons had left. Ezza was in conversation with Mathis at the bar and Zaya was giving the final table, all men, a tongue lashing with her arms crossed against her chest. Whatever the dispute was about, one of them put coins in her hand and they all stood to leave. Zaya took a step back and watched them depart, with her arms still crossed.

When they walked out the door, she turned back and noticed him still sitting in the corner. She dropped her arms but curled her hands into fist. She stomped over to his table with a thin-lipped pinch of her lips. “You!”

Aden looked both ways as if seeking others sitting next to him. “Yes.”

“You are a wizard,” she said with accusation. “I thought you were a nice man, but you must have put some stupid spell on me, blinding me.”

“No, no spells,” Aden said with a weary voice. “You blinded yourself, if that is what you call it. I cannot read thoughts and can only change minds the same way as everybody else. I’m glad to hear you think I’m a friendly fellow. I am, by the way.”

“You am what?” Zaya said, not giving him space to leave.

“You are a beautiful woman. You have a sharp tongue and a quick mind,” Aden said. “I find you enticingly attractive and I will dream of sharing a bed with you. As for your accusation, I prefer to be private about who I am and who I am with, if I can. If you can respect my privacy, then I will gladly respect yours. I bid you goodnight and I wish you peace in your heart, at least when you think of me.”

Standing, he gently stepped around her and walked up the stairs. Stripping out of his clothes, he crawled under the outlandishly soft sheets. He shifted this way and that, trying to get used to the lumpy mattress. Lying on his back, he stared at the rafters, wondering if he would ever feel comfortable in this new place. Just a day ago, life was much less complicated, walking through a wilderness empty of human life. Though there were dangers ahead and possible dangers behind, the emptiness felt safe. Even if the dark moods shadowed his thoughts, he was safe to embrace them on an unoccupied road. How reduced he was, and how remote his circumstances. For many years, he was proud of his life and his profession; then came the utter shame and now the great uncertainty. He had thought darkness suited his mood until this afternoon. Darkness was still a good fit most of the time.