We emerged on the floodplain of the Enzara River in the morning. By the time the welcoming procession intercepted us on the road to Idezza, the sun rose to its zenith. At a long last, Nirav stood before me in the flesh.
The sweet thing looked as if he might collapse under the weight of the gold-and-jewels on his collar and tunic. If there was a virgin patch of fabric left unadorned by a seed pearl at a minimum, I could not spot it... and it wasn't for the lack of trying. I nearly devoured him with my eyes.
He should have been grateful that the law forbade him from wearing the Ducal coronet. Despite the word 'coronet' bringing to mind an image of a light elegant band, it was a massive contraption. It was even lined with fur, reminding me of Ondrey's native garb. Perhaps, Nirav's grandmother commissioned her coronet from the same artist who conceived the temple on the Piazza Divina.
"Welcome, Commander! The news of your glorious victory—"
Nirav stammered, his gaze transfixed by his lace cuff tied around my wrist.
'Yes,' I wanted to say, 'believe it'. This rusty-coloured rag was once a pristine strip of beautifully weaved lace. How do you think a soldier fared?
After the tiniest pause, Nirav cleared his throat and went on with his speech. However, the chirpiness had gone from his voice. A crease deepened between his brows as my hint, as small as it was, hit home: success came at the cost. Neither wine nor kisses would wash away the stains of war, though I yearned to try. Alas that it aged him, but he had to know.
Duke dismounted to offer me ceremonial fare: a drink of wine and a sliver of Idezzian flatbread. After days on dry foodstuffs, I bit into the chewy pale circle with more gusto than the pageantry demanded, but only touched the wine to my lips. There would be no indulgences today.
"I'm sorry, Ismar. I couldn't have imagined... I didn't expect..." he whispered, tilting his head to meet my eyes.
"Truly?"
Bread tasted better when looking at him. I chewed diligently, delaying the inevitable. I had to speak, for the citizens of Idezza turned out in numbers along with their Duke. All of the seven crones came and plenty of the younger noblewomen. They were attended by a flock of the bejeweled husbands, preening and darting jealous glances from under their parasols. In short, Idezza's creme de la creme waited for my arrival in the midday heat.
I forced the last crumb down my throat and wiped my lips with the back of my hand. They didn't pay me for my manners.
"Thank you for the welcome, Duke, and Your Illustrious Graces," I said.
The cheers erupted from under the canvas that sheltered the welcoming committee from the sun. A gust of wind billowed Idezza's colors—red, black and gold—over their screaming heads.
"Idezza salutes Your Grandissima! We shall feast tonight!" Nirav squeezed my fingers taking the goblet from me. He repeated 'tonight' in a husky whisper. A pleasant shiver tickled my loins—one more night together. Or a few more nights before Kozima arrived and made things complicated.
I cleared my throat. "The Deadhead Company is honored. We'll gladly celebrate our victory with our friends in Idezza, but tonight is a solemn night for us. The Company stands vigil for those who didn't return to the war camp."
The crowd abandoned their shelter to offer me their condolences. Nirav, engulfed, had to shout in the most unmanly way to be heard. "I request the honor of standing the vigil with the Company. The noble warriors of the Deadhead Company died in service of Idezza."
"Your Grace is welcome to join us," I shouted back. I wanted to whisper it into the soft curls of his hair.
Xenophonta parted the dazzling crowd. It reminded me of the summer days, when she frolicked in the blooming meadows. She was barely taller than the flowers back then... though had she ever? Looking at her stern face, I could almost believe the memory cheated me. My middle daughter had been grown-up for so long!
Xenophonta brought Breva for me. I mounted and said my farewells to the dignitaries. The Duke, however, interpreted my earlier invitation more broadly than I had intended. He rode up and let his horse fall in step with Breva. I had no pretext to chase him away, nor could I drag him off his mount and unwrap his bejeweled clothes.
That left us with a polite conversation.
"How are the wall repairs coming, Duke?"
"You need to see it to believe it!" He beamed. "I'm becoming quite a stonemason."
"A useful nobleman? I've seen seven of the Knowable World's nine wonders, but it never ceases to amaze me."
"Ah!" He twisted his head away to hide his obvious elation.
"You can smile at me," I said. "Our dead are not offended when the living are happy."
"I am, Ismar! Divine Yansara forgive me, but I am! There is so much I want to tell you, all at once, but—"
I produced a fake groan. "Please, don't tell me you've built another temple!"
"What? Oh, no. No! It's not about the defenses at all. Or at least not the type of defenses you build in stone." His shining eyes, his animated features, his boyish smile—they made me cheer for whatever was going on in Idezza while I bled in the jungles. "Ismar, your presence has inspired us all. Vanozza—that's Baroness Ornatti's daughter—she started a volunteer brigade!"
Oh. "Consisting of second-and-third noble daughters, I presume," I muttered.
He nodded. "For now, yes. But with your victory to inspire us, their ranks are sure to swell. Commander, Idezza will fight with you! We might even replace some of your fallen."
He was so enamored with the idea, that I didn't have the heart to explain my reservations. This influx of undisciplined fodder was a logistical nightmare for me. As for the martial baronesses and marchionesses, I'd have rather opened the doors of Idezza's jail and taken the bandits into the fold.
"Vanozza will be overjoyed if you could attend one of their training sessions." Nirav looked even more handsome than in my dreams. Or, maybe, he had become more handsome because his purpose took over his entire soul. I'd seen him buoyant with passion before, but I'd never seen him happy until now.
So I yielded and promised to visit the little Baroness' playground.
"When?" he asked.
"Later, sweetheart. I must bid you a farewell now to prepare for the vigil. Come by the camp at sundown if you want to join us."
***
The Company trickled to the portable Mythra's shrine in twos and threes whenever their duties permitted. They brought offerings of their hair, flowers and incense.
The citizens of Idezza also came to pay their respects. Nirav wore an unadorned, loose kaftan and trousers. Soffika was glued to his side again. The girl's owlish eyes took in the gathering.
A gaggle of noblewomen trailed in after their Duchess. I didn't have to guess which one among them was Vanozza. Ornatti's prominent nose identified her as her mother's daughter. Even the older women deferred to her and it wasn't thanks to the novelty of their war games.
Vanozza lacked striking features of divine descent like the Tigress or even Soffika, but her skin was dusk-violet in color. When I looked closer, I noticed that her pupils took on a star-shape, like the sapphire Nirav had sent me. Somewhere far down the line of her ancestry must have been Yansara's daughter and she flaunted her divine mark. Many patient hours went into soaking her hair and nails in henna to color them gold-red, to bring out her special skin color. Her attire was nothing short of regal. The lady acted like she was a Duchess of Idezza right in front of Soffika.
I tried my best to hide my annoyance with her and her cronies. After all, these noblewomen came to honor the Deadhead's fallen.
I prayed in the Divine Mythra's shadow from sundown till it was fully dark. Meanwhile, the offerings were piled on the pyre. Luckily, the stormy clouds didn't spill their rain. Even Mansoora's wind let up after Tashaya-sun disappeared beyond the horizon.
Xenophonta handed me the torch.
I touched it to the pyre, calling on Mythra, the Divine of War and Strife. On Yansara, the Divine of the Moon and the Night Sky. On Gala, the Divine of Wisdom and Mourning.
The flame tongues leaped high into the sky. We kept solemn silence until the smell of burning incense filled the air, a sign that the Divines were listening to us from Their Nirvana. So did the Bhutas in the Vash, the River of Oblivion.
I broke the silence to read the list of the fallen.
After the Company echoed each name, Xenophonta threw the corresponding name tag into the fire. The metal would be reforged in the new tags for the fresh recruits. It took a long time for the list to come to an end. By then, my throat burned from grief, thirst and the hot, ash-filled haze by the pyre.
Again, we stood in silence. The fire had died to embers, but we stood there. The dawn alone could return us to the affairs of the living. The rain had started just before the sunrise. I pinched my lips against the temptation to slurp the raindrops, but I let the soothing moisture run into my stinging eyes. My head hurt...
As we were leaving the shrine, I was surprised to see that the Idezzians stayed for the entire ceremony. Nirav looked deflated in the morning light. It seemed that the conversion rate of his jewels into death had become evident to him. Next to his slouched figure, Vanozza stood straighter than an arrow. She even quivered as one that had just struck its target. The stars in her eyes glittered. Her lips were parted and uneven breath lifted her chest. The girl was completely intoxicated by the dark glory of the sojourn.
I shut my eyes for a moment. I had to. It hurt too much to look at her, for she was a stark reminder of the time when I was just as hungry for fame and fortune.
When I was that young.
When I was that hungry.
When I was yet to acknowledge my own mortality or send someone else to their death.