The Soldier Son Trilogy Bundle Page 57

  “Caulder! Caulder? Wake up. You can’t pass out here. You’ll be trampled or freeze to death.” People were barely stepping around us, uncaring and unmindful of the boy stretched out on the ground. One woman in a fox mask tittered as she went past. No one stopped or stared or offered help. I shook him. “Caulder. Get up! I can’t stay here with you. Get up and on your feet.”

  He dragged in another breath and his eyelids fluttered. I seized him by his collar and dragged him to a sitting position. “Wake up!” I yelled at him.

  His eyes opened halfway and then closed again. “I did it,” he said faintly. “I did it. I drank it all! I’m a man. Get me a woman.” His words ran together, and his voice was little more than a mutter. The color had not come back to his face. “I don’t feel good,” he abruptly announced. “I’m sick.”

  “You’re drunk. You should go home. Get up and go home, Caulder.”

  He put both his hands over his mouth and then dropped them to cover his belly. “I’m sick,” he groaned, and his eyes sagged shut again. If I had not been holding him upright, he would have fallen back onto the ground. I shook him. His head wobbled back and forth. For the first time, a man stopped and looked down at us. “Best take him home, son, and let him sleep it off there. Shouldn’t have let the lad drink so much.”

  “Yes, sir,” I replied reflexively, with no intention of taking Caulder anywhere. But neither could I just stand up and walk away from him. I’d drag him somewhere out of the way and leave him where he wouldn’t get stepped on or freeze to death. For it was getting colder as the night grew deeper.

  I seized his wrists and stood up, dragging him with me. He lolled like a rag doll. I put one of my arms round his waist and held his other arm across my shoulder. It was awkward, for I was substantially taller than he was. “Walk, Caulder!” I yelled in his ear, and he muttered some response. I dragged him along with me as I cut across the big square toward the cabstands. Sometimes he muttered, and his legs moved as if he were taking giant strides, but his words made no sense.

  The Great Square proved its size to me that long night. We were jostled forward sometimes and sometimes blocked by standing crowds who could not or would not give way to us. We were forced to go around one roped-off area where couples were dancing. The music of the instruments seemed at odds with the cavorting of the masked people, and some of them looked more tormented than festive as they leaped and spun and flung their arms about.

  Caulder threw up once without warning at all, a gushing spew that very narrowly missed a fine lady’s skirts. I held him as he heaved and spouted like a bad pump, grateful only that the lady’s escort hurried her away instead of challenging me. When he was finished, I dragged him away from his mess. I sat him down on the edge of one of the frozen fountains; I wished in vain for water. I took my damp handkerchief from my pocket and wiped his chin and running nose as best I could, and then threw it away. “Caulder! Caulder, open your eyes. You’ve got to get up and walk. I can’t drag you all the way home.”

  But in reply he only shook. His face was pale, and his skin remained clammy. I got up and walked away from him, leaving him sprawled in a half-sitting heap like an abandoned pile of laundry. To this day, I do not know what made me turn around and go back for him. His situation was none of my making and I owed him nothing. I felt only animosity toward the tattling, tagalong brat, and yet I could not leave him there to face the cold awakening he deserved. I went back.

  I gave up trying to walk him. I lifted him across my shoulders as if he were a wounded man and carried him through the crowd. It was a better solution, for more people saw us coming and got out of the way. When I finally reached the cabstand, there was a long queue. The streets were still choked with pedestrians and so the wait was tripled as cabs struggled to reach the curb to disgorge the passengers they had and to take on new ones.

  When finally it reached our turn, the cabbie demanded his money up front before he would even open a door for us. I stood there, turning my pockets out for what little money I had left and cursing myself for my free spending earlier in the evening. I heartily wished I had kept the money I’d given the fat man. “Caulder! Have you any money?” I asked, shaking him. Another couple thrust in front of us, flashing a gold piece, and our cabbie immediately jumped down and opened the door for them with a bow. Despite my angry protests, he remounted the box and began trying to force his team out into the crowded street.

  Fate intervened then or I do not know what would have become of us. Another carriage pulled into the spot left open by our departing cab. The driver jumped down and opened the door to let a fine couple out. The man wore a tall silk hat and escorted a woman in an embroidered gown topped by a shimmering fur cape. She murmured something in dismay and he said, “I am sorry, Cecile, but this is as close as the cab can bring us. We shall have to walk to General Scoren’s house from here.” It was only when he spoke that I recognized Dr. Amicas from the Academy infirmary. He looked much different than he had the night he had tended Gord. I think my Academy overcoat drew his eye, for as he passed he looked at me and then, as his eyes fell on Caulder, he exclaimed in disgust, “Oh, for the mercy of the good god! Who let that silly whelp run loose on a night like this?”

  He didn’t expect an answer and I gave him none. I stood, holding Caulder upright beside me, and half hoped he would not recognize me, for I did not wish to be connected to Caulder’s misfortune. His wife’s face was full of dismay at the delay. Dr. Amicas spoke to me harshly. “Get him home as soon as you can. And put your own coat round him, you great fool! He’s far colder than he should be! How much did he drink? More than a bottle, I’ll wager, and I’ve seen more than one young cadet die of too much to drink in too little time.”

  His words shocked and frightened me, and I blurted out, “I’ve no money for a carriage, Dr. Amicas. Will you help us?”

  I thought he would strike me, he looked so angry. Then he reached into his pocket with one hand as he grabbed the sleeve of his departing driver’s coat with the other. “Here, cabman, take these two young idiots back to the King’s Cavalla Academy. I want you to take them right to Colonel Stiet’s door, do you hear me? Nowhere else, no matter what they say.” He pushed the money into the man’s hand and then the doctor turned on me.

  “Colonel Stiet won’t be home tonight, Cadet, and you can thank your lucky stars for that. But don’t you dare leave that boy on the doorstep! You see that one of Stiet’s servingmen takes him up to his bed, and I want two pints of hot broth down him before they let him sleep. You hear me? Two pints of good beef broth! No doubt I’ll have to deal with both of you tomorrow. Now get along!”

  The cabdriver had opened the door for us, reluctantly, for it was a fine conveyance and Caulder still reeked of liquor and puke. I tried to thank the doctor but he waved me off in disgust and hurried away with his lady. It took both the driver and me to heave Caulder into the carriage. Once inside, he lay on the floor like a drowned rat. I perched on one of the seats; the driver slammed the door and mounted his box. And there we sat for what seemed like a very long time before he could force his team out into the steady flow of carriages, carts, and foot traffic. We moved at a walk through the city streets near the Great Square, and more than once I heard drivers exchanging curses and threats with one another.

  The farther we got from the square, the darker the night became and the more the traffic thinned. Eventually the driver moved his team up to a fine trot and we rattled along through the streets. Light from the streetlamps flitted through the carriage intermittently. Every so often I would give Caulder a nudge with my foot. The groan that resulted comforted me that he was still alive. We were almost to the Academy drive when I heard him cough and then ask sourly, “Where are we? Are we there yet?”

  “Almost home,” I told him comfortingly.

  “Home? I don’t want to go home.” He struggled to sit up and finally managed it. He rubbed at his face and then his eyes. “I thought we were going to a whorehouse. That was the bet, re
member? You bet me that I couldn’t drink the whole bottle, and if I could, you were taking me to the best whorehouse in town.”

  “I didn’t bet you anything, Caulder.”

  He leaned closer to peer up at me. His breath was deadly. I turned my head away. “You’re not Jaris! Where is he? He promised me a woman! And I…who are you?” Suddenly he grasped his head in his hands. “By the good god, I’m sick. You poisoned me.”

  “Don’t be sick in the carriage. We’re nearly to your father’s door.”

  “But…what happened? Why didn’t they…I…”

  “You drank too much and you passed out on the ground. And I’m bringing you home. That’s really as much as I know.”

  “Wait.” He tried to get up on his knees to peer into my face. I leaned back. He grabbed my coat front. “You can’t hide from me. I know you. You’re that stiff-necked Burvelle new noble bastard. The one with the rock. And you ruined my Dark Evening. They said I could go with them! They said they would make me a man tonight.”

  I took his wrists and ripped his grip from my coat. “That would take a lot more than one night and a bottle of cheap liquor. Keep your hands to yourself, Caulder. Call me a bastard again, and I’ll demand satisfaction of you, regardless of how old you are or whose son you are!” I pushed him away with my foot.

  “You kicked me! You hurt me!” He bellowed the words, and then, as the carriage finally pulled up, he burst into weeping. I didn’t care. I had had enough of him. I stepped on his hand clambering over him to reach the door handle. I couldn’t stand to wait for the driver to climb down and open it for us. I dragged Caulder out feetfirst, letting his butt thud onto the pavement. I pulled him sideways, away from the carriage, and slammed the door shut. The driver immediately stirred up his horses and left. He, too, wanted nothing further to do with us, and I’m sure he was anxious to return to Dark Evening and the inflated cab fares he could charge.

  “Get up!” I said to Caulder. I was suddenly furious with him. He was the perfect target for all my pent-up frustration and rage. There he was, a soldier son like me, but without honor or ethics. Yet his father would buy his way into the Academy, and doubtless buy him a fine commission after he’d drunk and whored his way through two years of school. Caulder would be commanding while I was grooming my own horse and eating food cooked in a vat and sweating to make my sergeant’s stripes. Caulder would get a wife of good breeding and fine manners. Perhaps my own cousin Epiny would be his. At the moment it seemed a fit fate for them both. I looked up at Colonel Stiet’s gracious home on the Academy grounds and knew this was the only time I’d ever knock on that tall white door. I half walked, half dragged Caulder up the marble steps of his father’s fine house, and when I released him, he collapsed beside me like a sack of meal. “All your fault, Nevare Burvelle,” he was muttering. “You won’t get away with this. I vow it. You will pay.”

  “You’ll pay,” I replied harshly. “You head will pound like hammers on anvils tomorrow. And you probably won’t remember a minute of Dark Evening.”

  I banged the knocker a dozen times on the colonel’s door before I heard any stir within. The man who answered the door had his collar loosened and smelled plainly of mulling spices. I suspected the servants left in charge of the house tonight were having their own Dark Evening celebration. He did not look inclined to end his festivities, even when I stepped aside and showed them a sodden Caulder on the doorstep.

  “Dr. Amicas said to tell you to see him into his bed, but don’t let him sleep until you’ve put a couple of pints of warm beef broth down him. He’s colder than he should be, and he’s drunk far too much. The doctor said he has seen young cadets die of drinking this much all at once.”

  Just as I finished, Caulder leaned to one side and vomited down the steps. The smell that wafted up turned my stomach. The serving man blanched. He turned his head and bellowed, “Cates! Morray!” When two younger men appeared, he ordered them, “Take the young master up to his bed, strip him, and get him into a warm tub. Tell cook to make beef broth for him. One of you get a stableboy to come wash down the steps before that vile mess freezes on them. And you! What is your name, sirrah?”

  I had been turning to leave. I turned back reluctantly. “My name is Cadet Nevare Burvelle. But I only brought Caulder home. I didn’t get him into this state.”

  The man didn’t appear to care. “Nevare Burvelle,” he said carefully and disapprovingly, as if my name were part of Caulder’s bad smell. The other servants had dragged Caulder in, and he followed them, shutting the door behind him without so much as a thanks or a farewell.

  I went down the stairs carefully, avoiding the slimed steps, and crossed the foreboding night campus. The cold and the dark both seemed stronger and bleaker here. The only sound was the crunching of my boots on the half-frozen snow. When I reached Carneston House, a single feeble light greeted me by the door. I entered to find the main floor lit only by the embers in the great fireplace. No one was at Sergeant Rufet’s desk. I went up the stairs, blessing the lights that burned on each landing. Our rooms were all in blackness. “Spink!” I called, but there was no response. He hadn’t returned, and so whatever misadventure he and Epiny were involved in was continuing.

  I found my bunk in the darkness, let my clothing fall to the floor, and climbed in. I was chilled through and the layers of bitter disappointment fell over me like heavy blankets that did not warm me but only pressed me deeper into despair. I slept fitfully, twitching from one nightmare to the next. I was naked at the carnival and everyone knew that I had been culled from the Academy. My father was there. “Be a man, Nevare!” he charged me sharply, and instead I wept like a little child. I dreamed disturbingly of Rory and the Speck woman. I woke once or twice as other stragglers came in. They were laughing and the smell of wine or beer on them made my stomach turn. After my evening with Caulder, I suspected it would be a long time before I wanted to drink again. I rolled over and finally fell into a deeper sleep, and with it, a vivid and carnal dream.

  All young men have such dreams. There is no shame in them. My dream was heavy with sensuality and detail. I tasted, I smelled, I heard, I touched, and I saw. Every sense I possessed was inundated with the woman. I rested between her thighs and lazily traced the mottled patterns on the skin of her breasts. Her nipples were dark and erect. Her tongue was dark, too, and her breath smelled of flowers and earthy forest and tasted like sun-ripened fruit on a warm summer day. Her body engulfed mine in female suppleness. We mated as animals mate, without hesitation or inhibition.

  She was my reward for betraying my people. I lay on her mountainous softness, nuzzling my face against her soft drooping breasts. I wallowed in her flesh, fascinated by the yielding folds and mounds of her. Afterward, she held me still inside her, trapping me in her embrace. She kissed me with a sensuality that surpassed all intimacy I’d ever dreamed. Her hands held and caressed my shaved scalp and then clutched my tarred topknot of hair. “You have crossed the line and you are mine,” the tree woman murmured.

  I woke with a gasp. Despite the holiday, the drums thundered the next morning. Briefly, the eroticism of the voluptuous woman lingered in my mind and flesh. The next moment, I felt as disgusted with myself as if my dream had been real. No man can control what he dreams at night. Despite that, I felt shamed that I could even imagine such a thing, let alone be aroused by it. Around me, the others groaned and cursed, and we put our pillows over our heads. No one got up. I dropped back into a real sleep, and slept until true light came in at the windows, and then grudgingly rose to a cold morning. I was better off than most of my comrades. I was still tired and dejected, but at least I didn’t have a hangover. Just before it was time for the noon meal, I got dressed in my uniform, still damp from the night before. The tables in the mess hall were half empty. Spink was one of the few who joined me there. I had seen little of him before that meal, for he had arisen early and gone out for a walk in the crisp, cold day. He was smiling to himself and humming as he sat down next t
o me. I asked him quietly, “Epiny?”

  He turned bloodshot eyes to me. He looked tired but cheerful. After a moment he said, “I never found her. I searched for a time, and then gave it up. Perhaps she had the good sense to stay at home. I went looking for you but never found you. Too many people. Will you ask after her when you write to your uncle?”

  “I will.” I realized I had neglected to send him a letter yesterday. For that matter, I hadn’t received a letter from him. Well, bad news will keep, my father always said, and I could not think of one good thing to tell him. I thought of telling Spink about my private conversation with Captain Maw. I thought of telling him that all our dreams were doomed. I pushed that thought aside. Some part of me was still desperately clinging to hope. To speak of us being culled seemed unlucky, as if it were a curse I might bring down on us by speaking it aloud. My mind jumped to a topic only slightly less miserable. “At least you had a better night than I did,” I told him, and recounted my pleasant ride home with Caulder. I had thought he would laugh, but he looked grave.

  “You probably saved his life, but we all know what a little snake Caulder is. He’ll never appreciate what you did for him.”

  Our conversation was interrupted when Oron belatedly joined us at the table. He looked paler than usual, save for the dark circles under his eyes. His hands shook slightly as he heaped food onto his plate. He gave us a sick sort of smile. “It was worth it,” he said to our unanswered question.

  “Did Rory go back to the Speck woman?” I asked bluntly.

  Oron looked down at his heaped plate. “He and Trist did,” he admitted. He struggled to keep a strained smile from his face as he added, “Actually, we all did. It was amazing.”