Hewspear looked at Mulldoos, who simply raised his delicate eyebrows. “What shall we do with her? She isn’t a Syldoon, and no one in the Citadel has much interest in her bones.” He cast a quick glance in my direction before continuing, “What shall we do with her remains, Captain?”
“Dispose of her as you will.” When no one responded immediately, he looked up and glanced from face to face, no doubt registering the accusation and pain on mine, the sadness on Hewspear’s, and what might have been anger on Mulldoos’, though that struck me as curious. “Do you think me a callous beast, that I don’t spare more thought for her? Should I have thrown myself across her body in grief, and railed at the tragedy of it, while my own men looked on, spiteful that I’d done no such thing for the fallen Syldoon? Should I have stripped off my shirt and lashed myself for failing to protect her, to see her to a better end?” His voice was overtaxed and broke. “No. She’s gone. Dead. But unlike the others, she has nowhere to go now. No one waits for her, hopes for her return, pines. No children. No husband. No one. And now she’s no one.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “A body. Only a body. Dispose of her as you will. I’ll think no more on it.”
Hewspear’s face grew red and he leaned against the table, grunting with the effort. “Captain, she saved my life. And she did more than that for you-”
Mulldoos interjected, “It was no secret I never had any love for her or her kind. Witches and warlocks, the whole lot. Memoridon, rogue witch, same as spit to me. At least with your trained Memoridon, you know you’re dealing with a professional. Cold and inhuman, maybe, but professional, to the last. But her, and her kind? Rogues got no one to show them what to do with themselves, how to manage what they can do.” He tapped a thick finger against his temple. “You thought she crept among your bogs and sucked out your poisons. But no telling what damage she done in there, mucking around, unskilled. Might as well have been blind. Far as I know, her effort stirred up worse things hidden in the muck, damaged you more. I never wanted her among us, start to finish.
“What’s more, she had nothing else to put the thing in balance. She was a crippled, disobedient Grass Dog whore when we took her, and I never saw much to suggest she ever became other than that. But the thing of it is, Cap, no matter how much I misliked her, and I misliked her plenty, she was loyal to you like no other. She’d have thrown her life away for you ten times over ten, and again just to prove a point. And while she was a monstrous boil on my ass, there’s no denying she had grit.” He leaned forward, lifting his mug for emphasis. “What I’m getting at, Cap, is… Hew’s got the right of it. She deserves better than what you’re giving her.”
Braylar’s eyes lit with anger, and he took a long drink, but they were still hot when he lowered his mug. “I always considered you a competent battlefield butcher, but it seems you missed your calling. You should have been an orator, a priest, a courtier. Mayhap a poet like our scribbler here. Truly, some spirited and compelling rhetoric. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard you put that many words together before.”
Mulldoos looked like he had an angry rebuttal, but called it back before unleashing it. “Mock all you want, but you know I’m right. Devils take you if you don’t.”
“I admit to no such thing, but even if I did, I ask again: What would you have me do with her? I welcome suggestions. Tie her to a horse and prop her up with a stick? Pass her on to the silk house that treated her with such kindness when she was among them? Give her bones to a battalion of drummers to follow us around, marking our passage in macabre rhythms? How do you suppose I honor our dead, crippled whore, who made you so nervous and still somehow stealthily earned your respect while you looked away? Eh? What is it you recommend?”
Mulldoos replied, without much enthusiasm or conviction, “Give her to the beetle masters, bring her bones back with us.”
“To what end? It was difficult enough to deal with her alive. Do you suspect I want to cart around her bones as well?”
I offered, “Why not send her to the grass?”
Everyone looked and me, and Braylar replied, “I suggest you consult your notes again-her own family sold her to the least reputable slaver they happened to meet. After lopping off her fingers. No, there’s no one for her there.”
Hewspear said, “I think Arki has a point.”
Braylar raised a single eyebrow. “Do you? Startling. Please, enlighten.”
“We don’t send her to anyone. But we could take her to the edge of Green Sea. Bury her there. Even leave her to feed the dogs, or whatever other creatures haunt the plains. She would’ve found some grisly justice in that. But the grass was the only thing she thought of as home, even if she was an exile. The grass rejects no one.”
Braylar’s eyes widened. “I never suspected I was surrounded by such insipid sentimentalists. With honeyed tongues, no less. Truly, a revelation.” He stood, a bit unsteady, but placed one hand on the tabletop and righted himself, then flicked one of the flail heads. “To the grass, then? And will you two rapacious romantics take her-you, your ribs grinding to dust, and you, with your leg buckling underneath you? Is that the plan?”
Mulldoos looked towards me before answering. “I hauled her a long stretch yesterday. Not taking her a step farther, even with two good legs. But somebody will. Coin buys good couriers. Merchants leaving the Fair, pilgrims, hells, even a greedy Hornman or two. Turn any corner, you’ll run into one of them. Somebody will take her there, we fill their pouches. Pains me to say it, but Brokespear over there has the right of it-Lloi would’ve liked that. She deserved that much, if nothing else. Send her to the grass and be done with it.”
Braylar walked across the room, slowly but with surprising steadiness, considering how much he’d imbibed. His back to us, he said, “So be it. To the grass, then. Let the dogs welcome home one of their own.”
He casually lifted a horn panel of the blinds and looked out. While it was still cloudy outside, they were thin clouds, and the brightness forced Braylar to take a step back. He dropped the panel and took another step, as if retreating from a foe, and then turned quickly, walked to the corner of the room, and vomited mostly in the chamber pot, hands on his knees.
The smell reached me almost immediately, harsh and sour and caustic, and I turned away, noticing that Hewspear and Mulldoos shared a quick look.
Braylar returned to the table, glaring at the flail heads as he did, as if the strength of his hatred might somehow cow them into submission. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he filled his cup again. “Hard to maintain a stupor, when the stuff won’t stay in your belly. And with Lloi gone, stupor is all that can help me.”
Hewspear took a deep breath and held his side, then said, “I know you’ve heard this suggestion before, Captain, but given present circumstances, perhaps-”
“Perhaps nothing, Hew. We can’t willingly invite a Memoridon among us. It’s impossible. For reasons you’re familiar with, so I won’t waste my breath reiterating them.”
Hewpsear didn’t relent. “With Lloi gone-”
“We must find another rogue. And soon. That’s my only recourse.”
Mulldoos filled his cheeks with air before blowing it out. “It was freak luck we came across her, Cap. I don’t know how you figure we’ll find another. Maybe the old goat here is-”
“You’re going to coordinate the hunt for another one, Mulldoos. So I suggest you devise a plan, and do so immediately. We’ll be here for some time, so begin your efforts in Alespell.” He looked down at Bloodsounder. “That is all.”
Braylar coughed and took another drink, looking carefully at the three of us. Several moments passed, all awkwardly. Finally, he said, “Out with it, you two bastards. What niggles you now?”
Hewspear continued slowly sipping his drink and so it fell to Mulldoos. “Don’t know that I’d call it any kind of niggling, Cap. Only that… that is, you know the men and me, even this old horsecunt, we’d follow you through feast or fire. Always have, always will.”