Chapter 61. A Loose Stone Ended My Career as a Silent Eavesdropper

Chapter 61: 61. A Loose Stone Ended My Career as a Silent Eavesdropper

That night... we made camp in a sheltered hollow at the edge of a stand of oak trees, a few miles beyond the hill.

It was a decent spot, with a clear view of the road in both directions, and Alicia approved it after walking the perimeter twice.

I’d been given the watch rotation before midnight, which meant I could sleep for a few hours before taking over from Oswin.

But my ribs ached... my head was full of Garrick’s story, and I couldn’t stop thinking about the pigeon.

I lay on my bedroll for a while, staring up at the canopy of leaves... before I gave up and sat up.

I decided to check on the prisoner. It wasn’t strictly necessary.

Holt and Pike were guarding the wagon, and Garrick had been asleep when I last looked. But I wanted to see it with my own eyes, and I’d always found that doing something small and practical helped to quiet my mind.

I picked my way through the dark, past the glowing embers of the campfire and the dim shapes of sleeping guards.

The air smelled of woodsmoke and horse and wet grass.

A little way beyond the edge of the camp, a stand of birches stood in a loose circle, and white trunks pale against the darkness, and as I came closer, I heard voices.

They were low... and one was a woman’s, rough and weary.

"Again," said Sharon.

I stopped.

I couldn’t see them, because the trees were between us, but I could hear them clearly.

I should have turned around right then... I knew that.

But there was something in Sharon’s tone, something I hadn’t heard before, that rooted me to the spot.

"In for four," she said. "Hold for two. Out for six..."

"Now do it with me."

I heard a slow, shaky breath, and then another. Someone was breathing in time with a count, taking each inhale in four slow beats, holding it for two, and letting it out in six.

It went on for about a minute, and the second voice grew steadier with every repetition.

"That’s better," said Sharon.

"It’s not working..." said Eveline, in a tiny, wet voice.

"It’s working! You’re still crying... but your hands have stopped shaking." She pointed at her hands. "Take a long look with your eyes."

"They... have."

"It’s the same trick I use before a battle... I tell my body that nothing is happening, and after a while, my body believes me." There was a pause. "And now... Here’s the second part."

"When you breathe out, don’t think about what you’re afraid of..."

"Think about who you’re protecting... Say their name."

"Whose name?"

"Anyone! Whoever is most important to you... Someone you’d walk into a fire for."

A long silence followed.

Then, very softly, Eveline said, "Tam."

"Again."

"Tam. Corporal Tam."

"Again."

"Tam."

I lowered myself onto a fallen log, as quietly as I could, and rested my elbows on my knees. I knew I shouldn’t be listening.

But I’d also learned, in the last two weeks, that some conversations are important enough that the world should hold still around them, and I felt that this was one.

"Tell me about him," Sharon said.

"Her... He’s a... Tam is a woman."

"She was my squad partner." Eveline took a shaky breath. "We were on a patrol in the north, about a month before the retreat."

"It was a small thing, a sweep along the border... We ran into a pack of ironback boars."

"They’re not very dangerous... usually, but there were a lot of them."

"I know the type."

"I was leading the second line... I was supposed to count the strikes and call out the signal when the pack was thin enough for us to charge."

"But... I counted wrong." Her voice cracked. "I counted six, and it was five."

"I called the charge too early... Tam ran in first, because she always did, and the boar that I hadn’t counted came out of the brush and hit her."

Sharon didn’t say anything.

"It took her left arm," Eveline whispered. "The whole thing... below the elbow."

"I carried her out... I ran about eight miles, and I don’t remember any of it."

"I just remember how heavy she was and how much blood there was... but, thank god, that she lived."

"The healers saved her... She’s in the infirmary in Elarion right now, learning to hold a spoon with her other hand."

"And she’s forgiven you?"

"She forgave me before I’d finished apologizing... She said it wasn’t my fault."

"She said anyone could have miscounted." Eveline started to cry in earnest, in a low, raw way that made my chest ache. "But I haven’t forgiven myself... and I can’t."

"Every time I’m in a fight... I start counting, and I get terrified that I’m going to miscount, and my hands start shaking, and then... I start tripping and dropping things and running into walls."

"I can’t stop it... I’m so afraid that... I’ll kill someone I love."

"I know," said Sharon.

"I didn’t want to tell anyone... I thought you’d send me away."

"I’m not going to send you away, Eveline."

"I’m clumsy... I’m a disaster... I’m the most dangerous clumsy girl in the Order, and you said it yourself, and it’s true..."

"I said it, and it’s true," Sharon agreed. "But you’re missing something."

There was a rustle of cloth and the soft thump of a boot. When Sharon spoke again, her voice was lower and rougher than I’d ever heard it.

"I’m not going to tell you that it wasn’t your fault," she said. "I think that would be a lie, and you’d know it was a lie."

"You did... make a mistake. A really bad one." Sharon crossed her arms. "And someone you cared about paid for it."

Eveline made a small, broken sound. "Mmh..."

"But a mistake isn’t a verdict... One bad count doesn’t make you a bad knight, any more than one good fight makes you a hero!"

"Your hands shake because you’re afraid, and being afraid is a habit... It’s an old one, and it’s a strong one, but it can be unlearned!"

"It takes practice, that’s all! It takes a few years of breathing in the dark and saying the right names..."

"A few years...?"

"Maybe more... It’s not quick, and don’t even hope for a quick path." Sharon let out a breath that was half a laugh. "I’ve been at it for about two decades!"

"You...?!"

"Don’t look so surprised! Do you think I came out of the womb swinging a sword?!" Her voice dropped. "I lost a squad at the Black Gate, fifteen years ago..."

"Nine soldiers... under my command, in a single night."

"I’d made a call about the barricade, and I was wrong... because of that... nine of them died."

"I still know their names... I recite them every morning, before breakfast," she exhaled. "Anders. Pell. Marek. Josselyn. Little Teo, who was seventeen..."

"I can say all nine without stopping."

I put my hand over my mouth.

"I still count wrong," Sharon said. "Not in battle, anymore..."

"But sometimes, at night... I wake up and I count the dead, and I get it wrong, and I have to start again."

"It doesn’t stop... It just gets quieter."

"I didn’t... know that," said Eveline.

"Nobody does... I’m not in the habit of confessing in the dark."

"But I’m telling you now, because I want you to understand something." There was a pause and the creak of a branch. "I didn’t send you north because I thought you were weak."

"The Council assigns the postings... They told me the north needed fast scouts, and they put your name on the list, and I wasn’t asked."

"I should have fought it... I’m sorry that I didn’t..." She clenched her fists. "If I’d been there... I’d have been the one counting."

"It’s not your fault, Lady Sanford."

"It’s a little bit of my fault, and that’s how it works around here, Eveline..."

"Nobody’s ever entirely innocent." Her voice softened again. "You’re not alone in this..."

"You won’t be... as long as I’m breathing! Understand?"

"Yes."

"Good."

I heard a sound, then, that I could only describe as clumsy tenderness. It was the dull, heavy thump of a large hand landing on top of a head, followed by a muffled yelp.

"Ow! My ear!"

"What? I’m tugging gently."

"It still hurts! You’re too muscular, Lady Sanford...!"

"Well... It’s supposed to. It’s affection after all." She laughed.

"That’s the worst kind of affection!"

"It’s the only kind I know how to give," Sharon snorted. "Now blow your nose! You sound like a goose!"

I intended to slip away. I really did.

But as I stood up, the log creaked, and my boot kicked a loose stone, and the stone rolled down a short slope and clacked against a tree.

CRACK!

The conversation stopped.