Forest Mage (81 page)

If I wanted to parcel out blame, I had only to look at myself. Hitch had warned me that using the magic for my own ends would always extract a harsh price. If I had not put Carsina under a command to apologize to me before she died, she might have died quietly of the plague. I had sealed my own fate. At least hanging would be a swift end for a man of my girth. The physics of such
an execution probably meant that my head would be torn completely from my body. Grisly, but much swifter than dangling and strangling. I shook my head and tried to rattle such thoughts away. I could not think of that just now.

And I could not think of anything else, either.

I was in pain from the blow I’d taken from the bucket. Feeling my face and the side of my skull, I became convinced that I should have died of such injuries if my residual magic had not undertaken to swiftly repair them. Tender spots convinced me that the least injuries I had taken were a cracked skull and a broken jaw. I was torn between being glad the magic had preserved my life and wishing that I had died a swift death. The healing of my injuries, though not as fast as my recovery from my bullet wound, was a liability to me, I slowly realized. It was likely that when I stood before the court-martial, I would appear fully healed and in good health. No one would believe that I had taken a deadly blow from a dead man. They would find some other way to account for me being unconscious.

My cell was a small bare room. I could see the cot, a chamber-pot, the barred window in the door, and the food slot in the door. Light, dim but constant, came from a lantern on a hook in the hall outside. It was very quiet. Either the other inhabitants slept a lot or there weren’t any. Other than my visit from Spink and the guard on his regular rounds to check on me or feed me, I did not see a soul. With no pastimes and nothing to distract me from my predicament, my thoughts chased each other in ever-smaller circles.

I was going to die. That much seemed very certain. I hoped I could maintain my dignity. Just thinking of ascending the steps to a gallows made me shaky. I resolved I would not shake or weep or beg. Probably all condemned men resolved to go bravely; I hoped I’d have the strength to keep those resolutions. I dreaded my trial and yet longed for it, to have it all be over. I made and unmade final decisions a dozen times a day. I would ask that all my possessions be left to Amzil and her children. No, I would not mention her or the children lest association with me taint them. I would tell the court everything: who I was, how I had become infected with magic, the dangers of the Dust Dance, how I had consorted
with Specks and been tricked into planting ancestor trees in the graveyard, and what the matured trees meant to the Specks—No. I would stand silent and say not a word and let them convict me. That would shelter my father and sister from further shame. I would tell them only of the walkers, and how I had tried to save Carsina. I wondered if they would think me a liar or a madman.

The days dripped by. A Lieutenant Roper came by to tell me my trial had been delayed until it could be determined if the town of Gettys had more right to try me for crimes against its civilian citizens than the military. He came to the door of my cell, imparted this to me, and left before I could ask me if he was my defense counsel. I feared he was.

My next visitor wakened me in what I thought were early-morning hours. A tall man with bloodshot eyes breathed brandy fumes into my cell as he gripped the bars of the little window in my cell door and shook it on its hinges. “You great fat bloody coward!” he slurred at me. “I ought to drag you out of there and rip you limb from limb for what you did to my beautiful wife. You desecrated the most gentle and honorable woman the good god ever made! You filthy dog! You unspeakable filth!” He shook the barred window again, working the heavy door against its hinges and the stout bolt that locked it. I wondered if he had a gun with him. I wondered if I would move out of range of its muzzle if he did.

When he had spent his fury shaking the door, Captain Thayer suddenly slammed his head against the wood of it. He rested it there, leaning on my door and breathing harshly. Then his breath caught. His ragged breathing gave way to the heart-wrenching sounds of sobs ripping out of him. Into the lesser noise of his weeping, I foolishly spoke.

“I did not dishonor your wife, sir. I did not touch her. Carsina was a walker; she roused from what we thought was death but was only a coma. I gave her tea and cold water. I was on my way to fetch you when—”

“You lying scum!” My words had kindled him to fresh fury. “Don’t you dare say her name so familiarly, you piece of filth! Hanging is too good for you! You should have to suffer as you’ve
made me suffer!” He thrust his hand and arm between the bars and made groping motions, as if it could somehow stretch across the room and throttle me. It would have been humorous if his murderous intent had not been so sincere.

“Captain Thayer! Sir! Captain, please, sir! You should come away now.” The guard who addressed him had a thin reedy voice. Thayer turned his head to stare at him. “Please, sir. You have to come away. I shouldn’t have let you in at all. He’ll come to trial soon, and you can confront him there. Sir.”

Thayer seized the bars again and tried vainly to shake the door. The guard let him. When he finally gave up his vain effort, he sagged against the door, breathing hoarsely.

“Come away, sir. Justice will be done. Come away now.” And with that, the guard led him away.

I suspected I had burned away whatever magic I’d had left. I ate the prison food, but the sophistication of taste that had allowed me to take pleasure in even the simplest of foods had fled my palate. It was a bowl of slop each day, with a hunk of hard bread and some water. I ate it only because I was constantly ravenous. As if to make its mockery of me complete, the magic that had kept me fat even in far more dire circumstances now failed. My clothing hung looser on me every day, and my skin began to sag. When I slept, I only slept. The dreams I had were fragmented nonsense or ominous nightmares of hanging. After the initial burst of healing that had kept me alive, my recuperation from the bucket blow was slow. My jaw ached and my head hurt most of the time. Sudden motion as simple as turning my head toward a sound produced dizziness.

And the waiting dragged on, day after day, with no one seeing fit to inform me of anything. The guard who fed me and checked on me refused to exchange a single word with me. I lost track of the days. Sometimes I dozed and thought only a few moments had passed, only to hear the rattle of an insipid meal being pushed through my doors. At other times, I could find neither sleep nor true wakefulness, but lay on my cot suspended, feeling as if all time had stopped.

The waiting came to an abrupt end when I jerked out of such
a reverie to find Spink once more peering through the barred window.

“I thought I told you go to away,” I greeted him, even as I could not deny the relief I felt to see a friendly face.

“Well, you’ve been outranked. I’m here under orders.”

“From Epiny?” I jested, and he almost smiled.

“If her commands could have gotten me through the doors to you again, I’d have been here a hundred times. No. From Major Helford. His search for anyone willing to act as your defense finally discovered me. And here I am.”

“But…” Dismay filled me. “You’re in supply. How on earth could they select you to act as my counsel? Do you know anything about military law?”

“They did not select me so much as work their way down to me. I’m afraid everyone above me who was asked begged off. Man after man said that he could not defend you impartially. As depleted as the ranks of our officers are, you should probably be grateful that you don’t have Ebrooks or Kesey in this role.”

“How do you know Kesey and Ebrooks?”

“I was given this task yesterday. I immediately rode out to the cemetery to interview them.”

I’d sat up too suddenly. I closed my eyes to let the dizziness pass, then opened them and asked, “And what did they tell you about me?”

“That they had liked you. Not at first, but when they saw you doing your best at a task no one else wanted, and living out there despite the forest so close by, they came to admire your ‘guts,’ as they so elegantly put it. They said it was hard to believe you had done such a thing.”

His tone told me everything. “But not impossible. They do believe it.”

He folded his lips tightly and then gave a curt nod. “The evidence is against you. Every man who has held the post of cemetery guard before you has come to a bad end. Desertion or suicide. One man simply drank himself to death. They found him neatly laid out in the grave he’d dug for himself. Kesey and Ebrooks both think you went mad.”

“How do they explain the injury to my head?”

“Self-inflicted.”

“They think I hit myself in the head with a bucket?” I was incredulous.

“It’s the only possible explanation, Nevare. And therefore, as unlikely as it is, they have to believe it.”

I turned away from him. My hands went to fists. Irrational tears stung my eyes. Foolish as it was, I’d expected them to believe me. I hadn’t thought their good opinions would count for much, but I’d believed there would be at least two speaking in my favor at my trial. To hear that even Kesey and Ebrooks could believe such evil of me destroyed all hope. “I’m going to plead guilty.” I could scarcely believe I’d said the words, but the moment I had, I saw the wisdom in them.

“What?” Spink was horrified.

“I’m going to plead guilty and get it over with. I don’t want a drawn-out trial with spectators flocking to listen to people say vile things about me. I don’t want to stir things up until my execution becomes a social event. I just want to plead guilty and be done with it.”

“Nevare, you can’t! You didn’t do it, you didn’t do any of it!”

“Can you be sure of that? How do you know I’m not mad, Spink?”

“Because of your journal,” he said quietly. I thought he sounded embarrassed.

“You read my journal?” I was outraged.

“No. Not directly. Epiny read it. She found it soon after I hid it, though she didn’t tell me she’d found it until after she’d finished reading it.”

“Oh, by the good god. Is there no mercy left in the world?” For one horrifying instant, every demeaning thing I’d written about Epiny flashed through my mind, along with my accounts of my sexual encounters with Olikea and every other stupid thing I’d recorded in there. Why on earth had I written such things down? They didn’t belong in a soldier son’s journal! And now Epiny had read them all. And through her—“How much did she tell you?”

“Enough,” Spink replied, his ears going pink.

Silence reigned between us. To have the last two people in the world who thought well of me know exactly what sort of man I really was overwhelmed me in a tide of despair. Execution would be a mercy.

“I’m going to plead guilty, Spink. If you have any regard left for me at all, burn that damned book and then forget you ever knew me.” I felt a sharp pang of regret as I recalled the letters I’d sent to my sister. A heartfelt prayer went out of me that my father had been vigilant and had destroyed them unread. “Good-bye, Spink. If there’s anything left of mine in the cabin that has value, sell it off. And Clove. See he goes to a good master. Use the money however you think best.”

I heard Spink shift his feet on the floor outside my cell. After a moment he spoke almost calmly, the anger muted in his voice. “I thought you had more courage than that, Nevare.”

“You were mistaken, then,” I retorted.

I heard the rustle of paper. “There are certain things you should know. The town of Gettys wanted to try you. Major Helford decided that the military has more right than they. But he conceded to them that when you stand before your seven judges, three of them would be from the town. Now, they haven’t given me much time to prepare. I have statements from Ebrooks and Kesey. Can you think of anyone else who might give a testimonial as to your character?”

I didn’t reply. After a short time, he pushed on doggedly. “I have a list of questions here that I need you to answer. They’ll help me to defend you.”

I said nothing.

He cleared his throat. “Under what circumstances did you first meet Fala, a prostitute working in Sarla Moggam’s brothel?” His voice was absolutely neutral.

I refused to answer.

After a moment, he asked, “On what date were you first betrothed to Carsina Grenalter, Nevare Burvelle?”

I came to my feet faster than I thought I could possibly do it and flung myself at the door. I tried to thrust my hand through the bars to seize his damnable list of questions, but he simply stepped
back out of my reach. I was dizzy with my sudden motion and with the fury he had awokened in me. I clung to the bars to keep from falling and growled through my teeth, “Don’t you dare reveal my real name at the trial! Don’t you dare connect me to Carsina!”

“Nevare, it’s your only chance. Tell the whole truth. All of it.”

“I won’t. If you even try to bring it up, I’ll disrupt the whole proceeding. I’ll attack my guards and force them to kill me right there.” It came to me that that was an excellent idea in any case; it would avoid all the ceremony and suspense of a hanging. I think Spink must have seen that in my eyes. He suddenly looked very tired and defeated.

“I know you think that your life is in shambles and not worth saving,” he said quietly. “But for a moment, I wish you’d stop being so selfish and look at what you are doing to Epiny and me. She loves you, Nevare. I can’t fail her and then spend the rest of my life with her. She has already said that if we have a boy, she’s going to name him Nevare. Does that mean nothing to you?”

“It means that as usual, Epiny is acting without a grain of sense. You should stop her. You have a duty to protect your son from his mother’s foolishness.”

There was a long, cold silence. He spoke formally at last. “Well. I will tolerate many things from you, but not insult to my wife. You may do as you please. I will put forth my best effort, and I will never have to apologize to my wife or anyone else for being derelict in my duties. Go to your death a coward if you must, Nevare. Good day.”