“One of the recruits insulted the memory of General Esladas.”
I press a hand to my chest, feeling my heart pound. “You have my father’s spider, don’t you?”
“If that seems strange to you, so be it, but I just feel it helps me be a better soldier.”
At first I’m too choked to speak as I realize that I’m here with Father’s spider at last. “Can I… can we…?”
“Of course.”
He picks up the lamp and, as if it is the most ordinary act in the world, takes my hand. It is so remarkably easy and comfortable to walk beside him back out through the barracks and the courtyard to the gate. In the inner courtyard spiders sit motionless and inert but for the restless lightning that gives them a form of life.
I’m drawn to Father’s spider as to his presence, even though it is a creature of brass and courage and not a man. I rest my forehead against the curve of its metal carapace and imagine I feel his ambitious heart and his solid strength that he passed on to me.
“I miss you,” I whisper. Out of the depths of its spark-lit metal I think I hear his voice as down a vast distance, and even though it can never be a substitute for him, I know he will always be with me in my five souls. That has to be good enough.
I wipe my eyes and look at Kal. He’s watching me with a wary expression, poised like he will retreat if he must but is otherwise determined to stick it out.
“So you chose to live.” It comes out more harshly than I intend.
His gaze dips to the ground, then comes back to me. “No. I chose to die. I was too exhausted to fight. I wanted to be the good goat in truth, because I betrayed them. I think I did die. That’s what betrayal is, isn’t it? A kind of death.”
“Kal!” I take a step toward him but he raises a hand to forestall me.
“Let me tell it. I wanted to have the courage to die, so I kicked out the lid and let the water rush in. I drowned. It was so peaceful just to give in to how much I hated myself.”
I shut my eyes because it’s so distressing to hear him speak calmly of what I feared most. His hand touches mine and I clutch it like I can drag him out of drowning in despair, out of death, out of the end of the world he knew.
He says, “I think I died. But I wasn’t dead. I can’t explain it, but it’s as if I was given a second chance at life.”
At first I just hold on to him because I don’t know what to say to him or how to describe the churning confusion inside me: a bone-deep relief that he’s alive and an embarrassing amount of anger that he made the choice to die when he knew I was waiting for him. I have to let that go, to let him be who he is… and even as I think it, a months-old memory wells up.
“I can explain it,” I say, my voice rough with all the emotion I’m trying to hold in. “Do you remember that day in the desert when you were commanding the spider scouts, when you were knocked to the ground by an enemy soldier? Everyone thought you’d been killed.”
“Yes.” His gaze grows distant. “It’s when I saw you again for the first time. I thought I was dreaming that you’d kissed me.”
“I did kiss you, in a manner of speaking. You weren’t breathing, so I breathed air back into you. It’s something my mother taught us girls. But the crow priest thought you were dead so he poured the spark of the dying enemy into you too. Which means you’ve had a second spark all this time.”
“That would explain it.” He presses a hand against his spider, like he’s listening to a whisper of a voice, then flashes a wry grin. “But I guess that means I’m back to just one spark now.”
“How can you joke about it? And why didn’t you meet me at Garon Palace afterward? Why did you let me wonder for all this time? I was so miserable. First my father died and then you, and I didn’t see any reason to ever get out of my bed again.”
He removes his hand from the spider and rests it against my cheek. We stare at each other as he considers his words.
“You rescued me when I thought I couldn’t fight, you forced me to look at what I didn’t want to see, and I cherish you for it. But I had to do this on my own terms, with no expectation of success or reward. I have to make my own way, when for all my life the path was smoothed for me. In the desert I’ll have no one to rely on but myself and my comrades.”
I clasp his hand in mine. “Is this what you truly want? To be a soldier?”
“For always? I don’t know. It’s what I can do right now. Meanwhile you’ll keep climbing the Fives ladder until it kills you, or you’ll get so injured that you can’t continue, or you won’t reach as far as you hope, or you’ll retire in glory as an Illustrious. I don’t know. When one of those things happens you’ll have to decide what comes next, and that will be your desert to walk when you get there. I guess what I’m asking is, do you think you might want to be here when I get back?”
When I get back.
I’m not sure I’ve ever heard a sweeter promise.
“Yes! I have no idea why you would think otherwise!”
He exhales in relief, and his gaze sharpens intensely as he leans forward. “I’m counting on parading around the Lantern District with you when I’m on leave, and having all of Saryenia be jealous that you chose a humble spider scout to wear your victor’s ribbons.”
“Are you?”
“Oh, I am.”
“Well, then.” I put my arms around him, but just before our lips touch I stiffen.
“Jes?”
“I can’t do it, Kal. I can’t kiss you right here next to my father’s spider.”
He laughs, and it’s like a fragment of the shadow of the old, genial, carefree Kal has found its way back to him. Tucking an arm tightly around me, he draws me toward the gate.
“If we’re very quiet, I have that tiny little room where we can be alone.” To my surprise he switches to speaking in Efean with a heavy Saroese accent. “Is that good enough for you, Honored Lady?”
I bump my shoulder against his. “I guess I’ll have to let you know afterward.”
At dawn I stand at the gate as the spiders clank out on the first stage of a long journey to their desert posting. To watch them go feels familiar in so many bittersweet ways. Their discipline of march is no different from memories of my father’s time in the spider scouts except these soldiers call out to one another in Efean instead of Saroese.
Six months is a long time to be apart, I reflect as I walk back to the palace amid the early-morning traffic of wagons heaped with baskets of produce, cut flowers, and fish still glistening from the water. The promise of reunion makes it bearable.
My escorts are rubbing their eyes and stretching.
“I feel I should apologize to you for having to stand guard all night outside the boardinghouse.” My face heats as I speak, thinking of how narrow Kal’s bed was and how it didn’t matter, but it seems rude to ignore the situation.
They laugh. They’re both older men, the age of Inarsis, and probably they served with him back in the day. “Never apologize for that, Honored Niece. We all deserve joy.”