Fraul, 12

Crowe got letter after letter, and he wrote letter after letter. He called Captain Ire to him more often than his own lieutenant general. One morning Raru was sitting in the tent while Crowe wrote, antsy, ready to get Fraul to the bathhouse, and Crowe finally said, “Captain, calm down.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“I mean you keep fidgeting. What business do you have so early?”

“Nothing, sir.”

Crowe’s eyes, peering low over his brow, slid back down to the paper. “Is it Dreaux?” he asked. Raru sighed–he knew a person’s tone when they knew the truth.

“Yes, sir,” he said.

“You know I won’t cover for you.”

“I know, General.”

“Your duties come first.”

“I know.”

“Well.” Crowe passed him the letter to read and shuffled a few other papers together. “As long as you know that, I have no problem with it.”

Ire grabbed the other man’s glasses and fit them onto the bridge of his nose. Then he laughed at himself. He didn’t know how the fuck to read.

Crowe raised one eyebrow, knowing this.

“I didn’t grow up here,” Raru defended himself. Crowe sighed delicately and read it aloud.

“So,” Raru said slowly. “They want payback?”

“You are incapable of grasping subtlety.”

“Fuck off. That’s what it says.”

“In more elegant terms, as far as I can tell…” Crowe took another slip of paper that was the previous letter, “They want us disarmed. They want coastal territory. And I believe Aldrani wants financial reparations.”

Raru raised an eyebrow.

“They want us to pay them, Captain.” Crowe started to close the letter, taking a bit of wax from the drawer and the seal of the army. “So,” he said through his teeth, holding the wax over the candle and the seal in his mouth, “I don’t believe we’re going to disarm. Do you?”

“No, sir. I wouldn’t give them any territory, either.” Raru rubbed his chin. “But Oreia may help us pay them.”

“Maybe.” Crowe sighed. “Listen, I’d like you to talk to Heath about this when you go over there. He might have some ideas.”

Raru looked at the paper a final time, ducked out of the tent and walked to Heath’s cabin with hands in his pockets. He shut the door and kept his palm against it for a second. Fraul and Heath glanced up from their midmorning coffee and Heath looked at Fraul with a pointed flick of his eyes.

“Raru,” Fraul said. Ire glanced up, turned away from the door, and reached for Fraul’s coffee. Fraul released the mug without a word. He drained it, poured another cup, and said, “Fucking Areidans. Also you were right, Heath. Crowe knows all about me. Looks like he has for awhile.”

The healer’s lips parted over his teeth. “The quiet men listen best,” he rumbled. Fraul had gone back to Heath’s notes with a creak of the chair. Raru stepped up to the table and leaned over it–it looked to him like a set of schematics. He glanced at his old captain, whose eyes were waiting on him.

“For you?” he asked.

Heath tapped on one corner of the paper with his roll of charcoal. “This is the brace so far,” he said. “In theory.”

“Can they get wet?” Raru asked. “Would he have to take them off at the bathhouse?”

“Probably,” said Heath. “Metal will rust. Wood will dry out. Unless you wanted to oil them, Fraul, and being as how you’ve never oiled the chair in your life…” Heath gave a barbed half-smile. “I’m working around it.”

“Oh, Captain Iron, that reminds me.”

“Boy, don’t call me that.” Heath rapped Raru on the shoulder. “I’m not a damned captain.”

“You need some kind of title. The men will forget.” Raru pulled out a chair and sat down. “General wants your opinion on something.”

Heath sent the younger man back to Crowe with a scrawled note that said, more or less, there is no avoiding this war and next time you need to talk to me, come yourself. Raru tried to get out of the tent before Crowe read all of it.

Back at the old healer’s house, he fit his hands around the wheelchair. He rolled Fraul over to the front door; Fraul leaned and unlatched it with one hand. They both saluted Heath and let it fall closed.

Sometimes Raru pushed the chair. Today he wanted to walk alongside Fraul, who propelled himself over the rocky terrain and struck a course toward the bathhouse.

When they had found a sauna room that was empty–the bathhouse was often empty in warm weather–Raru started a fire beneath the wire basket of rocks, which dispersed the heat. Sometimes they skipped the cold plunge and sat in the steam room talking, their fingers brushing tentatively and briefly, as if by accident.

“I am selfish,” said Fraul that day. “I should not bring up the past around you.”

Raru had his own thoughts. He said, “Would you really leave Sandrine?”

Fraul was silent, rubbing his knees. “I’ll be frank with you, Captain,” he said.

Raru nodded; Fraul switched to his native tongue for privacy. “I don’t know if she ever loved me. I don’t know if I ever loved her. She is just as cold as I am, and I think I liked that about her. But I see…pity, when she looks at me. And you…don’t. I value that, from you. I do not feel pitied by you.”

Raru scooted closer, folding his legs. He was trying to de-program himself from the guilt that surged over him every time he looked at Fraul’s body. He knew, logically, that it couldn’t be all his fault. Fraul had made his choices. But still Raru thought, if he felt guilty enough, that he might be able to bear part of the burden.

Fraul was looking at him, waiting for him to speak. Raru looked at his hands.

“I never liked her,” he muttered, switching to Ilcoceum’le. “You know that. I felt like…” He wished he was drunk. He looked at Fraul for confirmation, hoping he wasn’t headed in the wrong direction, thinking maybe he should say it in Ezuran. The other man betrayed nothing, his hands folded in his lap.

Raru reasoned with himself that this was something they both already knew. He didn’t know why it was always so hard to say. He tried to speak lightly when he said, “I always felt like you belonged with me.”

“And how long did you feel that way?” Fraul asked, pressing his lips together to hide the smile.

Raru thought a moment, taking his time, not wanting to speak. Unconsciously, mirroring Fraul, his lips pressed together too.

“When they put me in your company,” he said. “You were a lieutenant.” He laughed. “That was awhile ago.”

“Captain Arrowroot.” Fraul’s smile broke through.

“All the men made fun of his name.” Their laughing eyes met. “I remember I’d watch for you during drills. I loved it when the captain was gone for the morning. You would be up there walking back and forth, with your accent. You were–uh…you looked good up there.” Raru had said too much and looked away. He lifted his head with a sudden curiosity, and to change the subject. “And you?”

Fraul blinked slowly. This was important to him. He tried to take his mind off the pain and put it there, in the room. He said slowly, “I knew it when we first drank together.” He laughed a little. “It was such a harsh knowledge. I had to stop myself from looking at you, and it was awful. I am sure that I beat myself up about it. Because I was afraid, I think.”

He frowned at Raru, who now took his turn leaning forward.

“Of what?” he asked, and Fraul was reminded of when Raru had been his lieutenant, his earnest and energetic lieutenant.

“I don’t know,” Fraul said. “I was grieving for things. I always wanted to get back to the desert. I was always thinking about home.” He shook his head, watching the fire nearly flicker itself out. He glanced back up and caught the younger man’s gaze. “Except when we would drink together. I would stop thinking about it, for awhile.”

“Long enough to help me get back to my tent.”

“Yes, I didn’t know about your predilections, darling.” Raru rolled his eyes and reached for the flask he kept around. Fraul watched him drink from it, and then said slowly, “At first I was sort of…fascinated with you, actually.” He gestured vaguely. “But I knew I wouldn’t…”

He hesitated, looking at Raru. He didn’t like the emotions that were coming up, mostly tears. He smothered them, and involuntarily smothered the pain in his knees, and said, “I thought I was just…incapable of feeling anything–for Sandrine, for my company. I thought something was wrong with me, to be honest. I was cold. To everyone. But I did feel…something, for you.”

“You were cold to me, too. You broke my nose and didn’t think twice about it.”

“You were the one who came at me first, may I remind you.”

Raru smiled at him. A few moments passed in which they dropped each others’ gazes. Fraul realized that the smell of the whiskey took him back to their time drinking together, and he loved it, although he wasn’t sure he was right to love it.

“You’re doing well, aren’t you? I mean, with healing, and all,” Raru said, switching back to Ezuran.

“Better.” Fraul hesitated. “And you, too,” he said, touching the back of Raru’s hand. “You have a family here, in the army. It makes me glad.”

Raru looked into his eyes and didn’t register that he was talking. He wanted to be with this man always. He thought of ways he might accompany Fraul back to Ilcoceum. He might fake his death, or pretend he was going to Areidas for some espionage mission. He tuned back into the other man’s voice, drawing his gaze away with an effort.

“Heath believes it will only take a few weeks,” Fraul was saying. “Granted, he may not be able to work if we have a raid every other day.” Fraul saw Raru focus sharply and murmured, “You like it. The raids.”

“Me, like the raids?”

“When I talk about war, you become…brighter. I understand. If I could still be there, I would, too.”

“Do I?” Raru asked, pretending to be surprised. He looked down at his hands and his voice was lower. “I feel powerful when I fight.”

“You are,” Fraul said, blinking slowly. “You have only force. You go in straight lines only.”

Raru grinned. “You must have been talking with the general.”

“He must know you well,” Fraul said, leaning languidly back, the heavy conversation over. “I see you in his tent more often than his lieutenant.”

“I prefer his leadership to General Hill’s.” Raru shrugged. “Hill was too gentle.”

“Are you close, then, you and Crowe?”

They wove in and out of conversation as the pile of rocks became cold. Finally they rose, back into the biting Ezuran wind. Raru felt like a nap, but after he saw his old captain to Heath’s house, he saw a commotion near Crowe’s tent. He jogged over.

He saw blood. He shoved people out of the way, almost shoved the lieutenant general out of the way but stopped himself. He stood next to the other man as Crowe held one hand over his chest and pushed himself to his feet. He was unsteady; Raru and the lieutenant general grabbed each of his arms by the elbow and guided him toward the healing tent.

“No,” he rasped, jerking his head. “Heath.”

Raru nodded, and they lifted Crowe clear of the ground at every other step and strode toward the little cabin. Raru yelled, “Heath!” as they approached, and at his tone the door flew open.

“Damn it all, boy, what is it?” said Iron, and he saw Crowe and stood aside. Fraul rolled back against the wall to give them room. The lieutenant general asked, “What happened, sir?”

Crowe waved a hand toward the forest as they lowered him onto the cot. “Areidan woman,” he said, nose wrinkled. Raru mouth became a single line.

“I’m going to follow them.” His eyes went to Fraul and Heath both. Heath nodded, and Raru asked, “Did you see which way they left from, August?”

“Toward the forest,” said the general. “Northeast.”

“Yes, sir.” Raru saluted them all and slammed the door behind him.

*

He returned empty-handed. Crowe healed at an agonizing pace, but whoever it was had missed his heart. The lieutenant-general, Mason, held their nightly meetings.

“We’ll get a few companies together and march across the border as soon as we can,” he said one night, hands folded before him. “Reparations be damned.” All of them agreed.

Fraul made his own preparations to leave. The braces would have to wait. Early in the purple light one morning, Raru got up to see him off. Heath watched the air between them, electrified with unsaid words.

“I’ll see you to the stable,” Raru said. “Be all right on the horse?”

“Oh, I may fall once or twice.” Fraul smiled. “But I will make it.” He nodded at the healer. “I am grateful, Heath.”

“You’re welcome back anytime.” Heath only looked at him for a second. “Even with the stupid things you do.”

Fraul grinned, holding out one hand. “Come here, my friend.”

Heath clasped his hand and bent down to embrace him. He came away smiling. “I’ll watch over your dog for you,” he said, gaze flicking to Raru. Fraul laughed outright.

“Yes,” he said. “Don’t let him have too much fun, hm?”

Raru took the back of the chair and they opened the door together. Heath watched them go, and Crowe lay on the cot with eyes closed. When the door closed behind them, the general murmured, “Half expect Raru to go with him.”

“Raru is many things. But he isn’t a deserter. He loves war too much.”

“We ought to call him war dog.”

Heath smiled. “The drugs are making your tongue loose, General.” Crowe smiled at him through heavy lids. Then he was snoring.

Raru rolled Fraul toward the stables at the edge of town. He tried not to think about it.

“Thank you, sir,” he said finally. “For…coming back.”

“I’ll be back sometime, era.” Fraul turned the chair and Raru hitched his saddle for him at the stables. He helped Fraul into it and watched him go in silence, his heart bursting. Then he turned back, with gratitude, to the war.