Here you'll find

 

Tracks of my tears

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 6

How the wind howls against the houses lining the streets. It's blowing from the north, as it's wont to do this time of the year; cold and biting and full of the breath of endless forests. Where does the forest end? Where does Revnash end? I don't think anybody really knows, or cares. It's the North, where the cold wind and luscious furs come from, that's all people care to know.

If I now turned and just kept walking north, where would I find myself?

But then, that's such a pointless thought. I cannot get much further from where I'm standing right now, on the bridge that connects the southern and northern banks of River Billass. Even if I walked north from here, I'd only get through the eastern tip of Amyll City and end up gazing across the enormous, wallowing expanse of River Czorhass. Not further than that, because no engineer has yet found a way to bridge that enormous river where it flows this wide and deep.

Autumn is here, I realize it now that we've reached the Bend of Czorhass where the mighty river turns from its eastward course and begins to flow south instead. Still a few thousand miles upstream until we reach Deleon, and I'm wondering why I am here. Why am I making this goddamn long journey for a second time in my life, when I know that eventually I'll be drifting down the river once more, like the piece of flotsam that I am?

That first time, years ago, I was young and madly in love, overwhelmed by the intoxicating aura of affection around me. Fordan, his parents, his brothers, everyone accepted me, and the thought never even crossed my mind -- that it could all end someday. And yet that's what happened. Slowly, inexorably, he slipped out of my reach while I just stood there, helplessly watching and not knowing what I could possibly do to stop him. He grew into the man he wanted to be; I could only watch as he grew apart from me.

How it hurt then, and how much more it's going to hurt this time when it happens. I should know better now, but what am I doing? The same thing all over again, even though I can see that he's now everything I ever dreamed he could be. How could I possibly hold on to him now?

The iron rail of the bridge is cold under my hands, coldness seeps through the gloves and turns my fingers into crooked icicles clutching to black metal. My nose is running. I should've worn a hat, or at least something to cover my ears, the scarf I've wrapped around my neck and cheeks is not enough in this persistent wind. The wool is rough on my skin as I rub my nose with the back of a hand. Damn, it's cold up here when the summer is gone! I never used to mind it, back when everything seemed possible, but now...

The closer to Deleon we get, the more I'm afraid, and yet there's this odd swelling inside me whenever I think of it. Has the vast, stately city really become so much my home that I now actually long to see it again, after being away for years? Maybe, just maybe I won't need to leave altogether, when --

Fuck, no! I don't want to think of that day! It'll come anyway, soon enough, too soon. Today I'm still in Amyll, in the handsome capital of the Princedom of Levaral, and Fordan is not far away. He just wanted to drop in at the city's public works office. Some major engineering project they've had here recently, he said; would be interesting to find some colleagues who could perhaps tell him more about it. He had no idea how long it would take, it depended on whether or not he'd find anyone to talk to. Well, he's now been gone for the better part of two hours, so I guess he has met someone eager enough to tell him about it.

There's really no point in hanging around here, within sight of the building into which he vanished. I know I promised to wait, but it's been so long now and the weather isn't exactly warm. Should I go? Should I wait still a little longer? Damned if I know, and it's really always the same thing with me. I can never decide this way or that, and so I just keep hovering, waiting until something happens or until the moment just passes by and the need to decide slips out of my hands. I said I'd wait, but would he really expect me to? And, for that matter, couldn't I for once do something after my own mind, and get myself somewhere indoors, away from this biting wind?

Yeah, sure I could. As if I had a mind of my own. As if I didn't know the drill already. Whenever he's somewhere nearby, I hover around like a faithful dog, waiting for him to return. Isn't that why I'm here right now, standing on this bridge and staring blindly into the dark, chilly waters of Billass? Waiting for him, hoping he'd come soon, resigned to my fate in case he takes still much longer.

"Excuse me?"

Good lord how he frightened me... I had no idea there was anyone nearby, but there he is: a man perhaps a few years older than myself, looking at me with a slight frown. I have to force my hands to let go of the curling metal as I turn to face him. I suppose I'd need to smile, that'd be only polite, but my face feels numb with cold. "Uh... yes?"

"I'm sorry for startling you," he says, voice still tentative and hesitant. "I didn't mean to, but --"

"It's all right." I even manage a little laugh. "I was just deep in thought, sorry, totally lost to my surroundings, I guess."

The man smiles a bit, eyes searching my face for something. "Are -- are you okay?"

That takes me by surprise. "Wh-what do you mean? Of course I am." Except that actually I'm way colder than I realized. It must be this wind, you don't even feel it after a while but in reality it's all the time whispering in your ears and leeching warmth from every part of the body, silent but persistent. And so slow that you don't notice it until your bones are getting brittle.

"I'm sorry," he says again. "I didn't want to intrude. You just looked so... I mean, the way you looked down into the water, it made me -- worried."

It takes a moment before my brain processes his words and the implications behind them, and then I have to rub my nose again because it begins to run once more. Damn this wind, it's making my eyes water as well.

"You're being very kind," I tell him. "Thank you, but I'm all right. Really, I am."

"I've heard that if you stare down into the stream long enough, it starts to pull you in," he says. "That's what people say, anyway. And it's a very powerful river. Lots of undercurrents. Sometimes boys come here and toss something down and then watch how long it remains visible. Things might just disappear for a long time and eventually resurface a long way from the bridge."

He checks himself and flashes an apologetic smile. "Sorry."

"No, please don't be. Thanks for your concern, and I really mean it. I do. Didn't mean to make anyone worried." I'm so embarrassed, all of a sudden, because he's caught me standing here like some fucking lost kid, or a stray dog. Except that he wouldn't have imagined that a stray dog would be contemplating a leap into the freezing water. "I was, uh, I admit I was a bit lost in thought, but I wasn't thinking about anything -- anything like that."

"That's good." He has the warmest smile, and now I notice that there's something in him that makes me think of Banerr, Fordan's younger brother. Maybe it's the curl of dark hair playing over his eyes, or the way he looks at me. "But I think you should go indoors, anyway. You look like you're about to freeze through. This is about the coldest place you could find in Amyll."

"I'm sure you're right," I tell him, trying to squeeze some life back into my hands. "I -- thank you. Thank you so much for waking me up. I'd better get going now, especially as I was too dense to take a proper hat when I went out."

His gaze is still scrutinizing me, but obviously it finds something to reassure him because he nods. "Get yourself warm," he says. "This wind is so treacherous, and it's the worst time for colds. We're so slow to get used to wearing enough when going out, now that there's still no snow. Nothing to remind you, when you look out of the window, just how damn chilly it's outside."

For some reason that brings out a laughter from me. Yes, I can relate to that. I do remember when I was first learning to live in Deleon, how many times I came home with my teeth chattering and my fingers and ears like little artifacts of ice that could shatter at the slightest knock. When the proper winter came and brought all those mounds of snow with it, I had no problem in clothing myself to survive, but around this time of the year it was a whole different story. When the days are bright enough to blind you and the trees are tenaciously hanging on to their last, brightly colored leaves, I'd just see the sun and forget about everything else. And catch a cold, inevitably.

"You're so right there," I say, and now my facial muscles actually remember how to produce a grin. "That's my eternal downfall. Thanks once more, I'll get moving somewhere warmer."

He nods again, and now even his smile reminds me of Banerr. Or, to be more precise, it's those dimples. It's a smile that makes me think of a fireplace, and warmth, and hot tea that's so honeyed that you could almost stick in a spoon and watch it stand upright. I'm about to choke on the lump that suddenly blocks my throat, but thank goodness he doesn't notice. He touches the rim of his hat with two fingers, then turns and walks away, towards the southern bank.

I'm headed north, towards the cluster of administrative buildings that loom at the other end of the bridge. My feet don't want to obey at first, but step by step they seem to recall more clearly how to move ahead of each other, and by the time I reach the street running along the riverbank I'm walking almost normally once more.

I remember seeing a tavern here; no, in fact I've seen several. There's bound to be places within sight of the offices, because no aspiring tavern-keeper in their right mind would miss a place like this, just across the street from buildings where hundreds of people work their days and hundreds more come visiting on some business. The Revnashi have a mind for business, and thus I soon notice that I'm hard put to decide which one to go into.

After a moment's hesitation I choose one and open the front door. Warm air rolls over me, it fills my lungs and embraces me, smelling of food and people and smoke and life. My heart skips a beat when I notice it: an enormous open fireplace at the back of the room, with tables and chairs in front of it. People talking, cutlery clinking, the squeak of shoes on tiled floor, fire. I inch closer to it, looking for a place to sit, spot an empty corner and head there. Maybe I'd been intending to sit by the window made of numerous yellowish squares that distort the outside world into an oddly stretching kaleidoscope, but that thought is abandoned in favor of the irresistible pull of that warm, crackling glow.

My fingers are prickling so that it almost hurts as I take off my gloves and place them on an empty chair, shrug out of my coat and try not to shiver when my blood thaws enough to circulate once more. A tall woman is weaving her way towards me, her quick eye hasn't missed another customer no matter how small and insignificant I must look in this roomful of Revnashi, and she grants me a broad, welcoming smile.

"Something hot, eh?" she says and I nod. "Our mulled wine's just the thing you need, sir. Nasty wind outside, isn't it? How about some lunch as well, to warm you up properly? Today we have beef casserole, steamed whitefish, and beetroot stew to choose from."

I settle for the casserole, never mind how well or poorly it'll go together with mulled wine, and concentrate on getting my fingers flex again while she scurries off to get my order. It doesn't take many moments before the mug of wine is placed in front of me and I have to blink at it while it sits there, quietly emitting a steady curl of steam. It's enormous, and I just know that if I drink all of it, I'll be more profoundly drunk than I've been in a long while.

The first mouthful of spicy, hot liquid crawls down my throat and settles for a while in my stomach into a glowing coil, before beginning its stealthy work in my veins. I can feel how it begins to unfold, its tentacles reaching outwards, and I take another sip. Moment by moment the numbness of the wind is releasing its hold of me, replaced by the sated relaxation of the wine. So full, so wonderful...

My beef casserole arrives not many moments later and I savor it slowly, partly because it's so hot and partly because I don't want to knock myself out completely. Surprisingly, the sweetness of the drink just makes the taste of the food even deeper and earthier, and I'm hard put not to close my eyes while eating. It's better not to do that, though, because I can already hear the faint humming in my ears. The wine; it's reached my head while I wasn't paying attention.

Or is it, after all, just the fireplace? Whatever. I'm not going to get drunk on this wine, because I still have to walk back to our hotel and I sure as hell want to be able to walk straight!

Which reminds me that I haven't paid any attention to the time. How long have I now been sitting here? Damned if I remembered to glance at the clock on the wall when I came it. It seems to be almost a quarter past two, and when I was on the bridge, I heard at some point the clock of the city hall, striking one. Has Fordan gone yet? Maybe he's back at the hotel by now, alarmed not to find me there. Or maybe he's been there a while already, maybe he's left the building at some point when I didn't notice and walked back? Oh well. There's no way to let him know where I am, when I don't even know where he is right now, so perhaps I'd better finish my lunch and start walking.

Not forgetting the wine, of course. It's delicious, and I'm not leaving a drop of it behind. Oh sweet gods how it warms me when I get on my feet, collect my coat and gloves from the chair and pull them on. The tall woman behind the counter takes my payment and wishes me good day, and if my step falters a bit, she doesn't comment.

I hardly feel the fangs of the wind that try to tear into me as I stop in front of the tavern to consider which way to turn. I'm so warm inside and a comfortable lull has wrapped itself like a blanket around all my senses. Which way to the hotel? Ah, now I remember. We walked along the Southern Embankment, and that's where I'll walk back. Not taking my chances with the inner city right now, no sir. I just want to get there, to our own room once more.

One more glance towards the austere, dark edifice to my left, then I turn to go -- no, wait. Did I see something I recognize? The tall man now descending the wide staircase, pulling gloves on, looking around, I can see his frown all the way from here. Fordan.

And I thought I couldn't possibly feel any warmer than I did, a moment ago? How wrong I was. That was nothing compared to the bubble of heat that wells up when our eyes meet and he smiles, then looks right and left to see when he could cross the street. Carriages are rolling up and down, horses pulling heavy loads, he has to wait and I catch a glimpse of how his lips purse in annoyance when he has to wait for them to pass.

I just stand here and wait. Like I've always done. His whore, his dog, and right now I'm not even ashamed of myself.

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