Talk to the Women

[Galen]

I have learned many things over the years. But perhaps the most important is that if you really want to know what's going on, talk to the women.

Women notice things that men don't. Which, sometimes, merely means that they notice anything at all.

So, as soon as I found out about what'd happened to Cinque and John, about their both being disinherited, I knew that to find out what had really happened, I should talk to the women: Cinque's grandmother, and John's mother. I'd assumed getting to see John's mother would be easier, Cinque's grandfather seemed like the man who would watch his wife closely, so I decided to talk to Cinque's grandmother first, to get it out of the way.

I sought her out at the markets in Zento. Like any proper Samurai, Cinque's grandfather would, I knew, send his wife to market at least every other day on the family's behalf.

I asked around in Zento, somehow I could be unobtrusive in Zento even though I should have stood out, and Cinque's grandmother was pointed out to me. She was pretty, still. Women could often age better than men.

“Can we talk, grandmother,” I said, or tried to say, in halting Tokunoese. “Grandmother” was a generic Tokunoese term of affection for an old woman.

“We can,” she responded in English. I was glad she spoke it; my Tokunoese wasn't good enough for an entire conversation.

We walked away from the people. In Tokuno, everyone notices everything, but everyone also minds their own business. It is a strange paradox.

“Will you get in trouble for talking to me, grandmother?”

“No. He,” her husband, she meant, “does not check on what I do in town.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes.” She seemed wise, somehow. Perhaps it was just that all Tokunoese women of that age seemed wise. I took her word that she wouldn't get in trouble and was relieved that seeing her hadn't been difficult. Seeing John's mother should be yet-easier.

“Do you know who I am?”

“Yes. You are Galen. The Grand Marshal of the Britannian High Council, an Assistant to the Crown's Minister of Security, a dealer of antiques, and my grandson's employer.”

For some reason, it was at that point that I decided to drop all pretense and no longer correct people when they didn't add “interim” to the Grand Marshal title. “And you probably know what I want to ask about.”

“Yes. It must seem very....” She said a word in Tokunoese, not knowing the English. Luckily I recognized it.

“Unfair.”

“Yes. It must seem very unfair to you.”

“Doesn't it seem so to you?”

“Yes....I suppose it does.” She was a traditional Tokunoese woman, it was a hard admission for her. “Cinque is a good boy. How is he?”

“Shaken.”

“Still? Even after these weeks?”

“Yes. Your husbands' approval meant a lot to him, and his father is dead.” I was getting impatient. I hoped it didn't show too much. “What happened.”

What she described was just about what Joylah had speculated. Cinque's father had died suddenly and unexpectedly. Years prior Cinque's grandfather had made a promise to Cinque's mother, his own daughter, on her deathbed to look after Cinque and Cinque's father “for as long as they live.” Cinque's grandfather had ridiculously decided that promise expired when Cinque's father did, as they were no longer “both” living.

Cinque's grandfather had always hated Cinque's father, mostly because he had darker skin. I knew this, and Cinque did too though he didn't like to believe it, much less admit it. And, while Cinque had Tokunoese features, he had his father's skin.

It was a crude, mean, legalistic way to take a promise, based on a crude, mean view of Tokunoese honor, adhered to by a crude, mean man, for crude, mean reasons. And it fucking made me sick.

Cinque's grandmother said she didn't know what had killed Cinque's father, but she speculated it was his diet. He liked Tokunoese foods, but only the fried ones, and always insisted on more and more oil. Eventually most of his food was cooked in a wok literally full to the brim with oil, the food dunked in it, emerging crispy and soaked in oil and fat.

“Is not good for the belly,” she said. “Belly” in Tokunoese roughly meant “heart” in English, the center of emotion and the organ that pumped blood through the body, but in this case she could have meant it either way.

“Where is he buried.”

“I show you.”

And she did. It was a quiet spot, a short walk west out of Zento, near the seacoast. It was a simple grave, marked with an ax, Cinque's father's favored weapon.

“He,” she meant Cinque's father, “always liked this spot. It was near to where his ship landed, how he came to us. My husband visits here, once a week.”

“Why?”

“To do honor to the dead.” She said it like she was surprised I hadn't realized.

“To do honor to a man whose son he betrayed and disowned.”

“Yes. Cinque's father was a great warrior.” She said it matter-of-factly, as if there was nothing wrong, nothing contradictory. I decided to just let it go.

“Would you mind terribly if I brought Cinque here?”

“No. He should know. He should see. And,” she trailed off. When I didn't react she finished on her own. “And, please, tell Cinque we are both proud of him.”

“I will.” I wasn't sure if I really would or not. Maybe I'd just mention his grandmother.

Arranging to see John's mother was about as easy as I'd expected. Through messengers she agreed to meet me outside the city walls of Trinsic.

Actually seeing her, though, was far from easy. I gasped when I saw her. “Ezzy?”

She smiled when she saw me and her smile was as beautiful as I remembered. She twirled, her dress twirling with her, perfectly, up to her knees, but no further. “I always knew we'd meet again. I'd heard of you and, knew it was the same person I'd known.” There was music in how she said the word “known.”

“Was it something I said?” All thoughts of finding out what was going on with John and his father vanished from my head, for the moment.

“Oh, whatever could you mean, Galen? Oh wait. That time when I left you passed out in bed before the sun rose and didn't say goodbye.”

“Yes. That.”

“No. No it wasn't.” She laughed. She was standing close to me, and as she laughed she twirled again, only halfway, let herself fall backward. She thought I'd catch her, and she was right. “Surely, after all these years, we can still share this much.”

“Only this.”

She smiled in my arms. “I know. I know you. You wouldn't do more if your own life depended on it. Maybe if mine, or someone else's, somehow did. Maybe. But you would try to find another way first.”

In my arms was a woman I had slept with many years ago, a barmaid from the tavern in Skara Brae, on the shard of the Gem of Immortality I had come from originally. She was named Ezmerelda, and she was of gypsy stock. The regulars in the tavern used to call her “Ezzy.” “Easy Ezzy.” I think all of the regulars had slept with her before I did. It was, literally, a lifetime and a world ago. And about 25 years, more or less. I was still drinking back then. Drinking a lot. And smoking nightshade. I did so little wench-chasing, however, that by barroom standards I was considered nearly chaste.

Like she'd just said, she'd vanished from bed, and my life, and, I now knew, also from the shard of the Gem of Immortality that we'd both lived on back then. Coincidence had brought me to the same world she'd come to.

“How many women are there in your life now, Galen dear? Two, last I heard?”

“Just the two,” I said dryly. “One wife, one mistress. Frankly that's two more than I ever thought I would end up with.”

“All great men need at least that many. I've been a third woman more than once. It's what tavern wenches are for.” She giggled. “And you love them?”

“More than I have words for.” She smiled. “Well,” I said. “You're a nobelman's wife now. A tavern wench no more.”

“Ah yes.” She stood up, leaving my arms but still standing close. “Would you believe that I've been faithful to my husband all these years? That just now was the closest I'd been to another man since I got married?”

“Yes I would.”

“Why?”

“Why would I believe it? Because there was no reason for you to get married unless you meant it.”

She smiled. “Thank you for that Galen. Most others I've bedded wouldn't understand that.” She'd spoken so far in the same accent she'd spoken when I knew her decades ago. For a few moments, though, she spoke in a different accent, that of a proper nobleman's wife. She switched back a few moments later. “May I have your arm, and would you be so kind as to escort me on a brief walk,my Lord Grand Marshal?”

I offered her my arm and she took it, and we walked.

“Did you know you were coming here that night when we were together?” I asked her.

“Oh yes. Before I left, I wanted you, my Lord.”

“Why leave? Shard travel was a lot less common and a lot more dangerous when you did it.”

“Why not, really. Well, that was how I thought of it then.” She giggled, and continued. “I met him on my second night here.” She meant her husband. “About the way you'd guess I'd meet a husband. At a tavern. I was auditioning for a job as a wench, and I let this nobleman from a place called Newcastle, he was barely sober enough to know what he was doing and barely not a virgin, fuck me up against a wall outside. He offered me his bed to sleep in, and I needed a bath, and he seemed rich enough that his room would have a bath in it or nearby, so I accepted. The bath was the hottest I'd ever known. And I just never left and he never threw me out. I was with child when we married a few months later. And for the last 25 years I have never once had to take a cold bath. I grew to love him, it didn't take long, really. He is a very kind man. If nothing else I'd have fallen in love with his kindness, and there was more besides that. And when I bore him a son I named him John.”

“Inexperienced, but potent.”

“That's what I thought too.” She giggled. “Or, at least that's what I'd told him.”

Joylah had been right again, I thought to myself. John's father wasn't his father.

“But it wasn't his.”

“No. It wasn't.”

“Whose then?”

“Tell me, Galen. Before me, were you ever.....with....A gypsy woman before me?”

“Yes, actually.....Why?”

“Did she want children?”

“She spoke of it on occasion.”

“Want them with you?”

“She mentioned it. But we weren't married, and our being together was very much a secret, and I was much younger, and, well, of course she knew it was impossible. I'm unable. As you know.” I would never get over wincing slightly when I spoke of this. To so many men, to have a son to carry on your name was very important. And I guess I was no different, I just couldn't produce any sons. Or so I thought.

“We gypsies have magic that can fix that you know. It doesn't always work and sometimes it takes a long time to work if it works at all. But it can be done.”

“In many cases yes. She mentioned that actually, raised the possibility. But I doubt it'd help in my case. My case is.....Extreme.” Indeed, I was often surprised I could be with a woman at all. “And she never tried it, anyway.”

Ezzy sighed. “She never tried it that she mentioned to you, you mean.”

I stopped walking, held Ezzy in place. “What?”

She sighed. “It was my fault. I'm sorry. I could smell the gypsy magic on you, could feel it, and when we were naked and I saw what was....what had happened to you. I guessed the purpose of the magic I smelled. But I didn't care; it seemed to be fading, anyway, and if it had worked before I wouldn't have smelled it at all, so I must have thought it was safe. And I'd had many men but I was always jealous of Mae that she could have you and I couldn't.”

Mae was another barmaid from the same tavern. I had indeed slept with Mae, but not as often as many assumed. Mostly I bought her dinner and taught her daughter to read.

Ezzy continued while I just stood there in stunned silence. I could tell where this was going. “I didn't realize until later in the pregnancy that it couldn't possibly be his. It was too far along too quickly. And since then he has given me no other children. And, believe me, Galen, we've tried.”

“Whose was it,” I said, eventually.

She smiled. “The night I seduced you I had been with none other. Not that night, not that week. And, yes, I'm sure. I convinced my husband the baby was just early, but it wasn't. The timing was near-exact. You have a son, Galen.”

“And your husband found out. That John wasn't his.”

“I honestly don't remember how it came out. Maybe he found my journal, maybe I was drunk and let it slip somehow, maybe he just figured it out. I don't remember. I just remember that he found out, and he was angry.”

“And he disinherited a boy he'd raised.” That John was my child hadn't really sunk in yet. I distracted myself by dealing with John's predicament instead of my own. “Did he abuse you?”

“Other than some name calling, no. And, honestly, I'd expected more. Deserved more! But he knows I love him and he knows it was before he and I even met. I would have fought harder for John but, honestly, Galen. How could I! I'd deceived a man I love, my husband, for over twenty-five years. Even for my own son how far could I go in opposing him after that. And besides....John can take care of himself, mostly, and I knew sooner or later you'd find out he was your son and you'd take care of what he couldn't.” Ezzy paused a moment. I didn't say a word. What could I say? “He's a lot like you....In many ways. I noticed it more and more over the years.”

“He doesn't look a thing like me.”

“No. But he doesn't look anything like my husband either. Oh Galen, if he, and you, can forgive me someday, I should so like to see my son again. Eventually I think I can even talk my husband out of the disinheritance....Though I'd rather John get to know you first. I've done all of us such a Sin by hiding this.”

“You did what you had to do.”

“Tell me, Galen. If I were a man, or if I were a woman you had never been with, would you be as...forgiving of this.”

“I hope so.”

She smiled. “You have a son, Galen. I hope you and he can accept each other. I think John's always known there was something different about him. Truth is, the story he tells about how he wanted to go to college instead of learning to be a Knight? It's only half-true. He's convinced himself of it but....Look deeply into his eyes, and you can tell.”

“He wants the adventuring life.”

“More than that.”

“He wants the fight. And not just TO fight. That would be easy. But he wants THE fight. He wants to spit in the Devil's face and dare him to spit back. To see the look of astonishment on a balron's face when it learns, as so many of its kind have before, that a mortal can defeat it.”

“Yes. I have to go back to my husband. I have twenty-five years of lies to make up for. Galen....You have a son.” She started to walk back to Trinsic, hurriedly, but with great dignity.

“And our son, Ezzy, has two stepmothers.” She giggled as she walked back. I watched her until she was safely within in the walls of Trinsic.

I went to see my mistress.