The sun was rapidly descending, its remaining light showed hues of dark purple and red. More legitimate places of business like the tailor started closing up for the day, while those places dependent upon the nightlife prepared to entice everyone coming in after a hard day in the fields.
We passed a youth changing the lettering on the sign outside of the local theater, detailing the start time for the show tonight.
Women appeared in the doorway at one of the newer pleasure houses. They had dressed themselves in exotic paints and powders, while wearing as little as possible, despite the cool weather. They suffered for their trade.
I wondered how they got away with presenting themselves like that. Before I left for the army, the women in the town, as well as the more religious men, would have never put up with that sort of spectacle on the streets. It was one thing to have a whorehouse. All towns did. It was another thing to flaunt one so openly to all who passed.
Watching how the women advertised their services made me shake my head in disgust.
Then I imagined Lasha having to do the same thing for Myra and Zadok. My disgust shifted to sorrow.
The debates Ava and I had so many times before ran through my mind. I still had no idea why many of those women did what they did. Sure, some were just out for money, but more than ever I understood some were not.
And even if they were out for money, who was I to judge them?
I tore my gaze away from the women as I needed to be alert. I felt the stares from people as we walked and I stared right back at several. Few had the courtesy to appear embarrassed by their gawking. At this point, everyone knew who I was. I just hoped that no one would decide to find their courage and act on their own to win over some influence with Jareb before he got into town.
Shouting and cursing from half a dozen voices roared inside a saloon just up ahead. The doors to the place swung open with such force they slapped against the outside walls. A body flew into the street as if hurled. With the door open, the clamor rose even higher in volume and I wondered if someone was about to get lynched. A man similar in size and appearance to the one who’d been thrown into the street exited the saloon, walking over to the first. Their blond hair was instantly recognizable.
The yelling died down and the doors closed. I came to a halt, dumbfounded.
Ira climbed to his feet. He looked almost like he was ready to fight his brother as he dusted himself off. “What did you go and do that for?”
“To save you,” said Dekar, in his calm, even voice.
“From what? We could have taken those fools easily. By the gods, I could have probably handled them without you.”
“Maybe. But I don’t need you getting injured. You said you were only going to have one quick drink.”
“So, I had two more. Three mugs of ale ain’t nowhere near drunk. You know that. Besides,” Ira inclined his head back at the saloon, “they’re the ones that started it. I only-”
By that point, I had recovered enough to interrupt. “By the gods.”
They both whipped their heads in my direction.
A wide grin formed on Ira’s face. He slapped his brother in the arm. “And you were worried we wouldn’t find him.”
We all embraced. It had only been a little over a day since I last saw them, but it felt like half a lifetime considering all that had happened to me since. The stress and worry of what would happen next eased in the presence of friends.
“What are you doing here? I thought we said we’d meet up in a month or so.”
Dekar looked away, somber.
I frowned as Ira’s smile faded. “Things ain’t what they were, Ty.” He paused and eyed his brother. “Dek’s wife thought him dead and remarried. She saw us and more or less told us to go back to being dead.” He spat. “Man, the stuff they’re saying about us and what we did in the army. It’s like they have no idea what war’s like or what we all gave up for them.” He spat again. “All that crap from Damanhur followed us too. That didn’t help things.”
I sighed. “Yeah, things aren’t any better here.”
Ira nodded back to the saloon. “We figured out as much. We came here looking for you after we stopped at your farm and learned someone else owned the place now.” He chuckled. “I take you were the cause for him being all hunched over and groaning.”
I winced, feeling bad for having taken down a man who really had done nothing wrong.
Dekar raised his head upward and closed his eyes. “They all threw us a big send off in support when we left Tamra. They told us to make Turine proud. The women had shouted they’d treat us like heroes when we returned.” He gritted his teeth. “Adwa had told me in private I already was a hero in her eyes and nothing would ever change that.” He swore. “It was all a bunch of crap. They’ve forgotten everything. They’ve forgotten us.”
That took me aback. Dekar must have really been hurting inside. The man wasn’t known to say a whole lot about himself. Actually, he wasn’t known to say a whole lot, period.
“Just a bunch of forgotten soldiers, Ty. If we had stayed in Tamra that’s all we’d ever be.” Ira paused. “Well, if they didn’t get sick of our company and kill us first.”
“Anyway,” said Dekar, composing himself. He nodded to Myra and Zadok. “We figured you might be dealing with similar stuff and considering you have a family to look after, we thought you might need a hand if trouble started.”
At a time when it felt like most of the world had turned against me, it nearly brought tears to my eyes when I thought about them considering my situation in spite of the stuff they both had dealt with.
“We’ve been hearing something about a fight between you and some guy named Jareb,” said Ira. “That’s what I was discussing with them folks in the tavern when Dek thought to intervene.”
That name jarred me away from my reunion among friends. “I’ll explain later, but yeah, things could get ugly. We really need to get out of town.”
Ira pointed. “We still got the wagon with us over there.”
“Where do we need to pick up Lasha?” asked Dekar. I saw him eyeing the kids.
I cleared the lump from my throat. “Nowhere. She’s dead.”
His eyes widened. He put a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Tyrus.”
“Me too.”
A meaningful “I’m sorry” offered more support to someone grieving over the loss of a loved one than some long speech or thin philosophical phrase ever would. Unfortunately, too many people hadn’t yet reached that conclusion. I was especially thankful then for Dekar being smarter than most people.
“Let’s just get out of here.” I nodded to my kids. “I’m taking with me the only things I can’t leave behind.”
* * *
Ira and Dekar led the way through town toward the wagon. Knowing we had a quicker way to travel than simply huffing it on foot, did wonders for my mood. Only Molak knew how far we’d have to go to find a place like Treetown.
Good old Captain Nehab sure had it made.
Zadok eased up beside me. “Pa, these are the people you were telling us about last night?”
“Some of them. They were in my unit.”
“I imagined them to be different.”
I raised an eyebrow. “How so?”
“I don’t know. Less dirty and more heroic.”
“They aren’t any less dirty than I was before we fell in the creek. And I’m no more heroic than them.”
“That’s not true.”
“Why not?”
Myra muttered from behind, “Because then Zadok would have to admit that all those crazy things he’s imagined you doing in the war were wrong. If dragons weren’t just some mythical tale, he’d be convinced you had slain one.”
“Shut up,” Zadok hissed.
I rested a free hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I hate to tell you this, son, but I’m not a hero.” I felt him deflate. “That isn’t to say I haven’t met my fair share of them.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, they aren’t the sort of people you might have heard from fairy tales though. Each and every one of them had their own sad tale to tell. The heroes I knew dug ditches and sharpened stakes until their hands bled in order to quickly fortify a position against the enemy, only to die from some infection brought on by the broken blisters. The heroes I knew stayed up for almost two days straight, keeping watch and protecting their injured friends, only to later die of a bug bite. The heroes I knew stepped in front of a sword stroke so that their friend might live, not because of the promise of glory or the possibility of having songs written about them.”