Renegade's Magic

The agitation of her thoughts rose and with it the tempo of her rocking. Little Solina had not ceased wailing the whole time and now, sensing her mother’s upset, cried even harder.



“Epiny, please! I took no vengeance! That was not me. No matter what they had done to me, they were still the King’s soldiers, the men of my own regiment. I would not slaughter them like that. I cannot describe what it was like for me. I witnessed how they were murdered, with no chance to defend themselves. I would not massacre our soldiers like that, the innocent alongside the guilty. I would not choose to see anyone die like that! Surely you know me that well.”



“I thought I did,” she said in a low voice. “Hush, child, hush. Please hush!” The cries of her baby were jarring to her, agitating her in a way almost beyond my understanding. I knew she was not asleep, but in the light trance of a medium.



“Be calm, Epiny. Be calm for your child’s sake, and for me. Stay with me. Stay.” I breathed calmness at her. “Think of a good time. Think of—” I scrabbled through my knowledge of her, trying desperately to find a calm and happy memory for her. Nothing came to mind. Everywhere Epiny was, turmoil seemed to follow her. “Think of that first evening when we played Towsers on the floor of the drawing room in your father’s home. The first night you spent any time with Spink. Think about that; hold to the good memories.”



A wave of sadness washed through her, dulling her agitation. Her rocking slowed. “Will I ever live in such a house, so comfortably, again?” she asked me plaintively. “Will I ever be free of counting each slice of bread, of having to say to my household, ‘That is enough now, you’ve had your share, no matter what your belly says’? Oh, hush, baby, please hush. Sleep for a little while. Please let me rest.”



“Are things so difficult now?”



“Difficult? ‘Difficult’ is a word that only applies where there is hope. Nevare, we are starving. Unless the lands warm soon and the fear ceases to keep our men from hunting, we will all die. Yesterday, Amzil went walking outside the fort and came back with some wild greens for us. Oh, they tasted so wonderful, but there were not much of them. Gettys is shattered, Nevare.” She gave a small, bitter laugh. “We missed our cemetery soldier after that attack. No one had thought to do as you had done, and dig extra graves for the winter or stockpile lumber for coffins. Folk used to say you were morbid, waiting for us to die. After the fires, there were huge arguments over whether it was more important to build coffins for the dead or use whatever wood we could salvage to keep warm. The ground was too frozen to dig graves; the bodies had to be stored. I’ve heard it said there is a wall of coffins out at the cemetery now; the thaws have softened the ground somewhat, but fear and discouragement boil out of the forest there like a poisonous spring. It is hard to get anyone to work there and harder still to find someone who works hard enough to get anything done.”



I thought of Kesey and Ebrooks and pitied them both. I was sure that particular duty had fallen on them.



“We are in a bad way for any sort of supplies. The Speck seemed to know exactly where to strike; they burned the warehouses, and the barns and the stables, and so many homes! Those who stayed have had to crowd in together as best they might. Many others chose to flee when the fear came back. They could not tolerate it, not even with the Gettys Tonic. Not just families, but soldiers deserted by the dozen. I’ve no idea what became of them; I expect a lot of them simply lay down in the cold and snow and died.”



“Epiny, Epiny, I am so sorry.” As I listened to her thoughts wander, it seemed very unlike the usual meandering of her previous prattling. There was nothing fun or gossipy about her words; it was a recounting of an endless circle of despair. I could not think what else to ask her. Did I want to know the details of how badly Gettys was damaged? No, I decided. Belatedly, I wished she had not told me where Spink had hidden them, for whatever was in my mind might be ferreted out by Soldier’s Boy.



“The despair and the fear are the worst part, Nevare. They come down thicker than ever before. Even the children talk of death and dying as an escape from it. There had been problems with suicide among the forced workers, as I’m sure you know, but not like it is now. Every day, they find prisoners who have hanged themselves. Some of the guards laugh and say it is for the best as we can scarcely feed them, but my heart goes out to them. I have less sympathy for the murderers and rapists who leave in such a way, but some of those fellows were little more than boys when they were sent east, and some for no more than stealing a silk pocket handkerchief!