Ilbren’s words haunted him. ‘It is way past the time when you should have settled down with a wife and raised sons.’
Kebra felt the weight of the words, like a stone on his heart.
Most of Palima’s customers thought of her as a whore with a golden heart. This was a view she cultivated, especially as she grew older, with age and the laws of gravity conspiring to ravage her features. The truth was more stark: Palima’s heart was like gold, cold, hard and well hidden.
She lay now on her bed, staring at the hulking figure by the window. Bison was well known to her, a generous giant, unhindered by imagination or intellect. His needs were simple, his demands limited, his energy prodigious. For a year now – ever since the Drenai had taken the city – he had come to her at least once a week. He paid well, never troubled her with small talk or promises, and rarely outstayed his welcome.
This night was different. He had come to her bed and
had cuddled her close. Then he had fallen asleep. Bison usually paid with a single silver coin upon leaving. Yet tonight he had given her a gold half raq just after he arrived. Palima had tried to rouse him – not usually a difficult feat. But Bison was in no mood for sex. This did not concern Palima. If a man wanted to pay for a hug with gold she was more than happy to oblige. He had slept fitfully for two hours, holding her close. Then he had dressed and moved to the window. Bison had been standing there in the lantern light for some time now, a huge man, with great sloping shoulders and long, powerful arms. Idly he tugged at his bristling white, walrus moustache and stared out at the night dark square below.
‘Come back to bed, lover,’ she said. ‘Let Palima work her magic.’
‘Not tonight,’ he told her.
‘What is wrong?’ she asked. ‘You can tell Palima.’
He turned towards her. ‘How old do you think I am?’ he asked, suddenly.
Sixty-five, if you’re a day, she thought, staring at his bald head and white moustache. Men were such children. ‘Maybe forty,’ she told him.
He seemed satisfied with the answer, and she saw him relax. ‘I’m older than that, but I don’t feel it. They’re sending me home,’ he said. ‘All the older men are going home.’
‘Don’t you want to go home?’
‘I was one of the first to join the White Wolf,’ he said. ‘Back when Drenan was beset on all sides and the king’s army had been all but destroyed. We beat them all, you know. One after another. When I was a child my country was ruled from afar. We were just peasants. But we changed the world. The king’s empire stretches for -‘ he
seemed to struggle for a moment with the mathematics. ‘- thousands of miles,’ he concluded lamely.
‘He is the greatest king who ever lived,’ she said, softly, hoping that was what he wanted to hear.
‘His father was greater,’ said Bison. ‘He built from nothing. I served him for twenty-three years. Then the boy-king for another twenty. Twenty-six major battles I’ve fought in. There. Twenty-six. What do you think of that?’
‘It’s a lot of battles,’ she admitted, not knowing where the conversation was leading. ‘Come back to bed.’
‘It’s a lot of battles, all right. I’ve been wounded eleven times. Now they don’t want me any more. Eighteen hundred of us. Thank you and goodbye. Here’s a bag of gold. Go home. Where’s home, eh?’ With a sigh he moved to the bed, which creaked as his huge frame settled upon it. ‘I don’t know what to do, Palima.’
‘You are a strong man. You can do anything you want. Go anywhere you want.’
‘But I want to stay with the army. I’m a front ranker! That’s what I am. That’s what I want.’
Sitting up she cupped his face in her hands. ‘Sometimes – most times – we don’t get what we want. Rarely do we even get what we deserve. We get what we get. That’s it. Yesterday is gone, Bison. It will never come again. Tomorrow hasn’t happened yet. What we have is now. And do you know what is real?’ She took his hand in hers and lifted if to her naked breast, pressing his fingers to her flesh. ”This is real, Bison. We are real. And at this moment we are all there is.’