After the Evening Bells

13

The next day she was supposed to be carrying a large basket of candles to town for her father; instead, she deposited the candles in a cloth bag behind the house and filled the basket with the few belongings she'd take with her: her favorite articles of clothing, a childhood blanket, the locket with the picture of her mother.

Most of the Redcloaks, including many officers, were housed in a camp that encircled the sandstone temple that served as the makeshift Imperial Administration Office. Kellah approached the guard at the camp's entrance. When he asked what her business was, she told him she needed to speak to Captain Joram.

"And what do you need to speak to Captain Joram about?"

"That is between him and me," she said, putting on a mask of confidence.

"Well, you are a pretty one, but we can't just let anybody walk in who says they want to chat with an officer. I'm sure you heard about those two men who--"

"Let her in," a man's voice said. It was the soldier who had danced with Megah a month before. Bisby, if she remembered correctly. "The Captain will be glad to see her."

"I'm sure he would, Sergeant Belasmus, but--"

"I'll be responsible for her. I'll take her to him."

"Fine. It's on your head if she ends up slitting anyone's throat," he said and then as she walked past him she heard him muttering something about how they always like the heroic types.

They hardly talked as they weaved through the labyrinth of identical brown tents. "How is your friend," Bisby said at one point. "The one I danced with... Megah."

"She's well," Kellah said. Bisby looked for her to elaborate, but she kept her mouth shut.

Joram was sitting at a small desk reading a scroll when Bisby pulled back the tent's entrance flap and presented Kellah. A look of surprise formed on the Captain's face, but he was pleased also. She stepped into the tent; Bisby set her basket down inside and went away.

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again," he said.

"You read?" she said, nodding to the scroll.

"Oh, this? Yes."

"Where did you learn?"

"My mother."

"I haven't met many women who know to read."

"It is not so rare in the East for a woman to read," he said. They stared at each other. "But you didn't come here to talk about how I learned my letters, did you?"

"You leave tomorrow, yes?"

He nodded. "Gone forever to the East to bother you no more."

"Will you take me with you?"

His face flashed a bitter look. "I don't find your jokes amusing or very becoming of--"

"No joke."

"No?"

She shook her head.

"What about the man... the man you meet... after the evening bells?"

"He's gone."

"How do you mean?"

"It doesn't matter."

"I disagree."

"It doesn't matter," she repeated. "Just answer. Will you take me with you? As your woman... your wife?"

He looked at the ground. She thought he was about to send her away, but then he looked back in her direction. He shook his head and smiled. "I can't think of any good reason why I shouldn't."

"So..."

"So... Yes," he said.

She walked up close to him. He was still sitting, so when she wrapped her arms tight around his head, his face pressed up against her small breasts—breasts that, one day soon would be full of baby's milk. She kissed him on the forehead. "Do you have anywhere to be right now?"

"Now?" he said. "No, not right now."

She started to take off her clothes.

"I can wait, if you wish."

She helped him up off his chair and nudged him to lie down on the bedroll beside the table. He lay down.

In her mind, she wasn't with Joram, yet neither was she with Haman. She was alone, an empty bucket, waiting on a cloudless day for rain that would never come.