The Anvil of the World - By Kage Baker Page 0,104

raised a shaking hand to point at them in turn.

“Your name is, ah, Clubb! And your name is … Smosh, how about that?” His whole body was trembling now, as he whooped with laughter. “Isn’t that great?”

Then his eyes rolled back in his head, and he pitched forward into the mud.

Nothing would rekindle the fire, so they made a bed for him in one of the tilted staterooms, stacking mattresses against what was for the moment a floor, and on Willowspear’s advice swaddling him tight in blankets.

“He’s taken a chill,” said Willowspear, looking at him unhappily.

“He should have kept his clothes on,” grumbled Smith, crawling along the bulkhead to fetch more blankets and another bottle of wine.

They bundled up on either side of the lordling, cramped and close but warm, and lay there in the dark listening to the night sounds.

“So … if something happens to him, what do we do?” said Smith at last. “Turn around and go home?”

He heard Willowspear sigh.

“If the Lady Svnae is truly in danger, it’s my duty to come to her aid.”

“But you’re a married man,” said Smith. “You’ve got a baby on the way. Don’t you miss your wife?”

“More than you can imagine,” Willowspear replied.

“Though I suppose it’s a little cramped in that attic room with the two of you…” Smith did not add, And the sound of Burnbright’s voice would have me shipping out after a month.

“No.” Willowspear stretched out in the darkness, folding his arms behind his head. “It’s a paradise in our room. In summer it’s so hot… one night, we … there was a box of children’s paints in the storeroom. A guest had left it behind, I think. We took it and painted each other’s bodies. Orchids and vines twining our flesh. Unexpected beasts. Wings. Flames. Rivers. The stars shone down through the holes in the slates, and we pretended we were seeing them through the jungle canopy. The whole house slept silent in the heat, but we two were awake, exploring … the night insects sang and our sweat ran down and the paint melted on her little body, and she plundered me, she was a hummingbird after nectar … and afterward we ran downstairs hand in hand, naked as ghosts, and bathed in the fountain in the garden. We pretended it was a jungle pool. Oh, she said, wouldn’t it be awful if anybody saw us like this? And her eyes sparkled so…”

He fell silent. Smith drank more wine, remembering.

“Have you ever been in love like that?” Willowspear inquired at last.

“Not really,” said Smith. “I never stayed anywhere long enough. My mother died when I was a baby, so… my aunt’s family took me in. And I had to work for my keep, so I was apprenticed out young. And one night I was coming back from delivering an order and … some thieves jumped me. I killed all three of ‘em. Standing there with bodies all around, scared out of my wits at what I’d done. So I ran away to sea. And later I was in the army. And later still •.. so, I was never any place to meet the kind of girl you settle down with. Lots of women, but, you know …. you both just get down to business. It isn’t especially romantic.”

A silence fell. Finally, Smith said, “You could go home. I could go on and rescue the lady. I haven’t got as much to lose, and I’m better with weapons.”

“I don’t doubt that,” said Willowspear. “But what would my mother say, Smith?”

“You think Fenallise would miss me?” Smith blinked. It had never occurred to him.

“Of course she would,” Willowspear replied. “And I am still bound by honor. Lady Svnae’s Mother raised me, Smith. She guided me on the path that brought me to my own mother and my wife. If Her daughter is in danger, how can I walk away?”

“I guess you couldn’t,” Smith agreed.

“It may even be,” Willowspear said dreamily, “that this is a quest, and She means me to travel on. She knows the journey of each star in the heavens, and all the journeys of the little streams to the great sea; and each man’s path through life, She knows, Smith. Even yours. Even mine.”

A hollow voice spoke out of the darkness.

“You won’t leave off worshipping her, will you?” said Lord Ermenwyr. “Give me some of that wine.”

“Yes, my lord.” Willowspear propped him up. Smith tilted the bottle. Lord Ermenwyr drank, and settled back with a

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