CHAPTER FIVE: NOCTURNAL DEPARTURES
Lorenzo stared up at Setzer's face. The whites of his eyes grew a bit larger in the moonlight, but otherwise he didn't seem in the least surprised or disconcerted.
"You look like crap," the fiery-haired youth observed in a flash of insight, not shouting but not using his normal vocal volume either.
"I feel like crap," Setzer called down. He noticed a leather satchel slung around Lorenzo's shoulder. "What's with that? You going somewhere?"
"Yeah. I just wanted to stop by before I left and see how things were doing. You looked like death chewed over when we got you in Doc Lee's office."
"Thank you, Mr. Empathy," Setzer said flatly, but he smiled all the same. "I'm all right. Mama and Papa all right. How're the other guys?"
Lorenzo cast down his eyes, and his declined face became shrouded in shadow. Setzer felt a thin sense of alarm course through his body like an electric current as he waited for a response. He was about to shout at his friend to hurry up and cut to the chase when Lorenzo began to speak.
"Mandy and Benny are fine. Mandy's probably at home now. Benny's whoring around, I'll bet. I really don't know where he is. J.J.--" Lorenzo's eyes became strangely turbulent as he once more bent his head; when he looked up again after a few more seconds, his face was cold and hard.
"J.J isn't here anymore. They took him away."
An icy, numb feeling tingled sickeningly in Setzer's chest; for a moment, he was sure he would faint. His bandaged hands gripped at the sill as he struggled to keep himself on his feet.
"What do you mean? Who's 'they'? Don't talk in riddles, Lorenzo. Not now."
"Fine. I'll tell you straight, even thought J.J. told me not to. When you were hurt, J.J-- It was like he went crazy. He got a branch and... he killed Ruadh. Crushed his head in like an egg. Splattered it everywhere, I swear--" Lorenzo spat out the words as if they were foul-tasting in his mouth, each word coming in rapid, harsh succession, broken only by the spaces when he tripped over his tongue. Setzer could not bear it; the words riddled him with pain.
"Stop," moaned the scarred boy, gulping the nocturnal air, the coolness scorching his trachea.
"Hell, no! You're going to listen to this," Lorenzo barked severely. "He killed Ruadh, and then his Imperial bodyguards took him away, just carted him away."
"Where did they take him?" Setzer queried weakly. It seemed to him that he was traipsing from one new nightmare to the next. When would it end?
"To Vector, no doubt."
"Gods!" Setzer hissed abruptly; his breast became filled with inexplicable anger. "What was that idiot doing? He always was such a shy guy. How could he do it? Damn him! He had to screw it all up--he didn't have to go to jail at all!"
Lorenzo's mouth formed soundless syllables, while his fists clenched. The lunar light reflected in the burning blue eyes, covering the irises with silver disks, an argentine aureole blazed around the red-orange locks, and to Setzer's wild mind, he seemed like the very incarnation of a vengeful spirit from the bowels of Hell. Such an anger radiated from those silver-inlaid eyes, Setzer jerked his head back in terror.
"Man," Lorenzo's voice quivered along with his wiry body, "you are an arrogant son of a bitch! He did it for you! You were hurt, and J.J. thought you were dying! I felt like killing the man myself, but J.J. was the only one who had the balls to do it! You've got no room to talk! Who do you think started the whole damn thing?"
"Wha-aat?!" Setzer sucked in the word. "So everything's my fault, then?"
"Whose idea was it to break into Ruadh's stables and steal his hubcaps? Who cheated at the game? Don't start--I know you cheated. If it wasn't for you, none of this would have happened!"
"Lorenzo, I had nothing to do with it!" Setzer snarled, desperately trying to keep his voice in check. "J.J. killed the man on his own. Dammit, I was unconscious! Why're you blaming me for something I had no control over? J.J. broke the law. I'm sorry for him, I really am, but if he killed a man, then he has to face the consequences."
"You...you bastard. You coward," Lorenzo growled, his words dripping. "You're just like everyone else, running away when you know you've done wrong. It makes me want to puke. J.J. went to jail for you, but you wouldn't have done so much for him! None of us would have done it for him! Because he was dumb and ugly and childish, the town just let the Empire haul him off. I bet everybody was glad to be rid of him!"
"Shut up, Lorenzo. I feel terrible about J.J., but he did break the law. But I'm sure he'll be all right. If everything happened as you said, then it was in my defense...can they jail him for coming to a friend's defense? Sure, it might be a while, but he'll be back. They won't have any legal grounds to keep him. In a month, it'll be--"
"Oh, the gods blast your bones to dust!" Lorenzo shouted, froth forming at the corners of his mouth as he flailed his arms and pounded his feet on the dusty ground. "You're as blind as the rest! Listen, moron: J.J. Isn't. Coming. Back. I know how the Empire treats those who kills its own. It has no misgivings about hanging a fifteen-year-old kid. They won't give him any quarter. His lackings'll make them hate him, not pity him! They'll let him rot in a hole in the ground, stall his trial as long as possible, and when they do they'll give him a second-rate lawyer, convict him, and throw him back. And then...they'll do things to him. Don't you know what they'll do to him? You're so deluded. And now you're running away. That is what you're going to do, isn't it? Skip town before the survivors skewer your ass. How can you live with yourself?"
"How can you?" Setzer demanded heatedly; he wanted to strangle nuisance so badly, his hands itched. Lorenzo had a nasty habit of making outrageous speculations about what other people were planning, and, even more annoying, he usually guessed right. "You're running away, too."
Lorenzo once again mouthed the empty air. He looked like he wanted to throw something, and his hands clutched at the air.
"I hate it here. I hate Jidoor. I hate everything about it. The prigs, the awful bars, the excesses, the loose girls, everything. The people just float along like puffy clouds without a care in the world, never thinking about anything but themselves. Gods, we don't even have any poor people here! We just kicked them out like mangy curs. Why? Because we're a city of arrogant, pigheaded, bigoted, callous--" Lorenzo's voice crescendoed greatly.
"Dammit, keep it down! You'll rouse the whole town!" Setzer cried in anger and terror.
"Good! I don't care! Let them hear everything! Fuck this city, fuck everybody in it! Fuck you, Gabbiani!" Lorenzo roared at the top of his lungs. In the adjoining houses, lights appeared at the back windows; Setzer cursed under his breath and hastily retreated, ducking down below his window, his knees pressed up near his face.
"If there're any gods up in the heavens," Lorenzo's voice wafted up inexorably, "then may they all take vengeance on you, you damned coward! May Ramuh strike you down with lightning and hurl you to the infernal depths!"
Lorenzo then proceeded to call down a litany of all the curses of the gods, from Alexander the Vindicator to Zoneseek the Stalker of the Boneyards. It was an amazing recitation, liberally sprinkled with vile language, but the novelty soon wore off for Setzer. The boy felt an eerie calm settle on his heart, and he knew how to deal with this pest.
When Lorenzo had finally stopped shouting, Setzer peeked out and waited until the lights in the houses died down momentarily. He then leaned out the window again and said flatly: "Are you quite done?"
What happened next simply astounded. A small gasping sound forced its way out of Lorenzo's mouth, and then the boy lamely collapsed to his knees. Lorenzo, acerbic as he was, always needed some sort of fuel for his angry outbursts to keep his fighting spirit up; now that Setzer had stopped taking the bait, the redhead simply exhausted his own resources.
"Hey...you all right?" Setzer inquired, leaning a little bit more out the window.
"I don't get it, Gabby. I just don't understand," came the non sequitur reply. Lorenzo looked up again, his eyes still glaring but moist, his face strangely gaunt; he began to absently trace nonsensical figures in the dirt with a finger and continued, almost as if talking to himself.
"Everywhere I look, I feel like I want to die. Comes from thinking about J.J., I guess--No matter how much I try, I can't stop thinking about him. You remember, about a year ago, when J.J. invited us all to his farm for his birthday party? Well, none of the rest of you were there, but I took a chocobo and rode around the fields for a little while, just for the heck of it. After a while, I stumbled into where the oxen were grazing, and I saw these two field hands among the herd. I stopped and watched 'em. They were roping something, twirling those lassos over their heads. It was neat. Then they broke off from the other oxen, and they had a small calf-- really small, a runt, scrawniest thing I ever saw. It was being dragged off by a tie around its neck, and its front legs were bound together, and it was trying to dig its back ones into the ground. The hands hauled it over and tied its neck harness around a tree trunk. And then one of them took out a huge-ass hatchet and started to walk towards it. Butchered it right then and there--too small and sick to live, I guess. I saw the look in that baby ox's eyes as it watched the hatchet coming closer and closer, and it was the saddest thing I ever saw. And you know what? When J.J. was taken away, I saw his face through the bars of that carriage. He had that exact same look in his eyes."
"You're crazy, Lorenzo," Setzer breathed; his friend's actions and mood swings simply defied all logic. In all the years he had known the blacksmith's boy, he had never seen him act so erratically. He's gone mad as the moon, he thought to himself, He always was odd. But now all this crap's turned his wits, the poor guy.
"When did you become an authority on deciding whether people're crazy or not, Gabby?" Lorenzo laughed mirthlessly, wiping at his uncommonly wet face. "But maybe you're right. Maybe I am off the loop. But ever since that day, I've been thinking. And I feel like the lowest scum on the planet."
"Why's that?"
"Because we treated him so mean."
"Oh, come on," Setzer spoke up after a brief silence. "We weren't that bad. He always seemed to have fun with us. He was our pal."
"Could've been a little nicer, though. He's the best person I know, and everybody in this damned city treated him like...like he was a dog, or something. Why? Just because he was half-illiterate and a little deformed. It doesn't make sense. People like J.J., people who can't buy a loaf of bread, they're so poor...why can't people ever treat them kindly? They need more help than other people, not less. They need to be taken care of. They can't help being what they are, or else they're so down and out, they can't make it on their own."
Setzer felt sharp uneasiness crawl up and down his spine; he had never really thought about civic obligations or politics or anything outside of his little sphere of school, home, girls, friends, and pranks before. His parents discussed such things at the dinner table sometimes, but he never really listened. He raked his mind over for an answer to this, searching for his genuine feelings on the matter.
"Lorenzo," Setzer said slowly after a few seconds of deliberation, "I agree that things could be a little better. But, no matter how hard we may try, there's always going to be poor and deformed people out there. It simply isn't possible. It isn't fair; not everyone can live and sit pretty in a nice house. And it's not so horrible for them, I think. They're used to their conditions. There's gotta be some happiness, something that keeps them going, or else they'd all be killing themselves in droves by now. Who knows what it's like?"
"I know," Lorenzo said in a spiritless monotone. "But everybody could try a little harder to help. Those bigwigs in power, the city governments--they've taken too little care of this, too little. It's bad. That's why I can't stay here any longer. I'm leaving this gods-forsaken place, and I'm not returning."
"What'll you do?" Setzer inquired gently, glad for a chance to change the subject.
"Stuff. Probably wander around a bit. I guess I'll put myself in the bum's shoes, see if that suits me. But then--"
"You don't have a clue, do you?"
"I wouldn't say that," Lorenzo raised his chin indignantly. "But I don't have a real plan, either." The boy then shuffled his feet, biting his lip. "I left some flowers on the front doorstep. They're for your mother. I wanted to do something nice for her before I left."
"A-HA!" Setzer pointed a finger down at the very unamused youth below. "I knew it! 'Enzo, until now I always gave you the benefit of a doubt when it came to Mama, but this...oh, man! It's a good thing you're leaving--Papa would kill you. It's really funny, in an unseemly kind of way.
"She is a very great lady," Lorenzo smiled through gritted teeth, "And deserves a better son than the one she's got."
"Gods, Lorenzo, I was only joking."
"Indeed."
The two engaged in a prolonged gaze, the silver-blue and smoky hazel locking together at a five yard distance, but Setzer quickly capitulated; he didn't want to drag this out any longer.
"Will I ever see you again, 'Enzo? You're a pain in the ass, but I'm going to miss you."
"Perhaps, perhaps," Lorenzo responded, his voice sounding absent. "Who can tell?"
"You know, if you ever need help, I'll always be glad to give it to you."
"One sometimes wonders why one bothers. Your future isn't exactly clear itself, and Vector isn't a place known for its charity. You'll either be too rich or too poor to be of any help to anyone. I wouldn't be you for the world. Go ahead and screw the Empire, milk all the money you can from it. But take care, buddy, or else the Empire'll milk you."
Setzer grimaced; Lorenzo noted the look and mended his speech a little, shaking his head.
"But, dammit, I can't ever stay mad at you. I'm sorry if I was an ass. You're a good friend, Gabby. Gods keep you. Say good-bye to your mother for me--if you say a single word, I'm going to throw a rock at you. Until next time, my friend."
Lorenzo jauntily saluted the boy at the second-story window and walked off into the alley shadows. Soon, the only indication of his presence was the crunching of pebbles under his boots.
Setzer remained at the window, listening as the footsteps grew fainter and fainter. Suddenly, a familiar voice rang out, a bit soft but very clear.
"Sleep tight, ya morons!!!"
The voice echoed lightly through the desolate, wind-swept alleys, and once again several lights appeared in the windows of the nearest houses; Setzer hastily pinched out the candle's flame and retreated a few paces.
From his position in the center of the his bedroom, the boy continued to route his line of vision towards and out the window, straining and squinting in the blackness. His jaw set as he approached the window once more.
Milk me, my ass, he thought to himself, I won't let that happen. I'll show you, 'Enzo; I'll show everybody. And one day, I'm going to have the last word for once. You'll blow a gasket then, I warrant.
Despite these mental assertions, Setzer didn't feel any better. He slammed a bandaged hand down on the top of his desk with a dull thud, unheeding of the pain through his anger and frustration.
He scowled down at the golden cage underneath his nose, and the round eyes of the pigeon peeped right back up at him. Setzer reached out, and, after fumbling with the tricky latch for a few moments, opened the door, gingerly taking the bird from the bars.
"If anybody tonight has to leave here because he really wants to," the youth grumbled, "it might as well be you."
Setzer gently unwound the gauze from the pigeon's wing and set the bird down on the window sill. It tentatively stretched and flapped a few times before, with a quiet little coo, launched itself out into the nighttime air.
Setzer watched the bird disappear over the rooftops. Even after it had long gone from sight, he still stared off into the inky night sky, trying to determine his future in stars that were too dim to see.
It was at that moment that the scarred boy realized that the instant he crossed the city borders, he would be leaving all comfort and control behind him. Out there in the great wide expanse of the world, far away from kin and friend, where men froze to death in summer, where children were strangled by their parents, where people killed each other over shoes, no-one would succor him, a fifteen-year-old boy without any protectors. His Gabbiani name would mean nothing to anybody. He was as insignificant and tiny to everybody as he was to the sky, and that knowledge jellied bones and made blood run thick with cold. He didn't have a chance
So many things could go awry, he knew, so many fickle factors determined his fate. Suppose his true destination was found out before he arrived in Vector? What if his ship crashed, his choc took sick? And if he got to Vector, what lay in store for him there? Languishing away in a prison cell seemed a hundred times more preferable than going out into the middle of a hungry, vicious world where almost everything could and probably would go wrong. He did not want to leave Jidoor.
His knees buckled under, and the entire lower half of his body slumped to the ground, but he paid no attention. Setzer instinctively draped his arms on the sill and still riveted his eyes on the outside. He had no strength to do anything else.
The door gradually creaked open from behind. Had he bothered to turn around, Setzer would have barely discerned his mother's silhouette in the doorway. She took a few steps into the room.
"Setzer, honey, is everything all right? What's going on? I heard shouting-- good heavens! Why aren't you wearing your bandages?!" Dulcina cried out softly, hurrying over to her son at the window and placing her hands on his shoulders.
"Mama," Setzer said miserably, "Lorenzo's gone."
"Oh, sweetie. I'm sorry for that. I suppose that he was the person shouting curses at the tops of his lungs a few moments ago?" Dulcina's voice was low and feather gentle as she stroked her son's hair.
"Yeah. We fought. It was bad. You heard most of it." Setzer finally turned to see his mother's face. "Mama, I think....I think that I got J.J. arrested."
He clutched at the sleeves of her robe, gibbered out the entire story of the terrible afternoon, filling in the blank spaces from what Lorenzo had told him, forgetting that Dulcina knew the entire sordid affair, and probably in much greater detail than he did. But she still heard out her son's frantic account; while she did so, she very carefully helped him up from the sill over to his bed and tucked him in, laying next to him on top of the covers.
After he had finished his rambling, disjointed story, Setzer grabbed at one of his mother's hands, blurting, "Mama, all of my friends're vanishing right before my eyes. What's going to happen to J.J.? Did I get him put in jail?"
Dulcina sighed. "My lovely boy, I just don't know. I don't know anything about the Empire's judicial system. But you listen to me. Personally, I don't think you did anything wrong except do something very foolish. In my mind, J.J. acted on his own. He chose to kill Ruadh on his own, though I can't see how such a sweet boy like him could have done it. But that's only what I think. If you think that you sent him to jail, then I can't change your mind. It's something you have to work out on your own. But--" she gently tapped a finger on the covers, "You mustn't worry about it now. You need all your wits about you, son, and you must rest. Don't torture yourself. It's like your father said. It's no use looking back on the past, thinking about what might have happened."
Setzer nodded his understanding; he snuggled closer to his mother's coolness and peered up at her shadowed face. "Mama, I'm frightened. There's just so many things that can go wrong."
"Perhaps you're finally growing up," Dulcina sighed. "Setzer, at times like these, the only sensible thing to do is focus on one day as it comes. And right now, no-one can get you. I'm right here. Now I'm going to put those bandages back on."
"No, don't," whispered the youth. "Please. Don't make me wear them, not tonight."
"You want to catch your death of infection?!"
"Oh, I will not. Don't close the windows, either. I'm too hot, and everything's so uncomfortable. I can't sleep."
"Fine," Dulcina acquiesced reluctantly. "But don't make a habit out of this. For Starlet's sake, at least let me give you some more medicine."
She gave him a dose of the powder along with a glass of tepid water. She made to leave, but Setzer, overcome with a sense of terror, begged her to stay. Dulcina complied and got back next to him on the bed.
To Setzer, his mother felt cool and soft. He transferred his head from his pillow to Dulcina's shoulder, cautiously burying his face next to her neck, moving very slowly as not to hurt his face. The faint scent of faded roses wafted up to his nostrils from his mother's skin and hair. One of her hands had slipped around to his back and was now moving in wide, soothing circles. From his perch on Dulcina's shoulder, Setzer could hear the low, hushed tones of a wordless lullaby he hadn't heard in years. He was as secure and sheltered as a baby, and he loved it.
He snaked his arms around her neck and gave her a peck on the cheek, mumbling through his sedated thoughts, "You're a good Mama. I'm really sorry for everything. You're so good to me."
Dulcina broke off her humming long enough to smile down wickedly at him. "Just remember all we've done, my boy, because soon your father and I will be old coots, wearing our shoes backwards and drooling at the dinner table, and we expect you to take care of us when you're wealthy and rich. Oho, you'll be paying us back in spades. We'll get even with you yet. It's one of the perks of being a parent."
Setzer dignified that remark with a smile of his own and said, "Great. Just great. No wonder Lorenzo likes you so much--you're both evil." He suddenly realized what he just said and looked up at her. "I might as well come clean. Lorenzo's got a weird crush on you."
He thought that she'd be shocked or angry, but instead, Dulcina just laughed.
"I know," she said.
"You knew?"
"I've known for a long time," Dulcina grinned. "It was pretty obvious."
"And didn't you think that was gross?!"
"I was flattered. It's hard to earn admiration from a boy like Lorenzo. I thought it was cute, myself." Her face grew demure and she lowered her eyelids. "Of course, I prefer your father."
"Anybody's better than Lorenzo," Setzer snorted. He settled his head back down on the soft part of her shoulder and murmured, "But Mama, I'd really like to do something for you before I go. Is there anything you want?"
"I want to be younger."
"No, sorry, Mama. Not acceptable. It's your job to be older. But anything else, and I'll do it."
"We'll worry about that when the time comes. Now hush and try to get some sleep. You need the rest--it's going to be a long day tomorrow."
Setzer gave his mother another kiss on the cheek before putting his head back down; she began to hum the lullaby once more.
The coolness and the humming and the scent all became jumbled up in Setzer's senses, all his consciousness swirled away, and soon he drifted off into dreamless slumber.
*************
Next morning, the Gabbiani household was bustling with activity. After re-bandaging her son's face and giving him a hearty breakfast, Dulcina chained herself to the kitchen, cooking all sorts of imperishable things like cornbread and jerked beef for the upcoming journey. Setzer busied himself with the task of learning how to walk for ten minutes without feeling like he was going to faint. Ponzo assisted his son, hovering next to him in case of an emergency, sometimes acting as a human crutch when Setzer became too tired. As they walked, the two discussed on what Setzer should say to people while traveling, and what to do if people recognized him.
The good food and the four days of rest had nourished Setzer sufficiently enough that he soon could walk around on his own, without his father's help, though his head and face still ached. Next, he changed out of his robe, quickly took a warm sponge bath, and slipped into a clean pair of clothes. After that, it was time to go through his drawers and pick out the garments he would need for his journey. He chose carefully, selecting things that weren't fancy, and laid the pieces on his bed. He'd pack them later.
Ponzo, during this time, went to a grocery and brought back the raw materials that his son would need: cooking implements, flour, cornmeal, salt, certain spices, a new bedroll, two large canteens, a small canvas tent for rainy weather, a compact pistol and some knives for warding off bandits, and other such things.
After everything was gathered, it was packed along with his pain medication and extra gauze in two large leather saddlebags, except for the tent and bedroll, which could be bundled up. The only item lacking was a mount.
Ponzo discreetly sent for a good friend and sent the man off to the city chocobo stables with some money to buy a bird. "But don't make it too fancy," he had admonished. "As long as it's not dying or homicidal, I'll take it. Get the cheapest one."
The man returned late that evening, just as the sun started to set. The family assembled out on the back porch, confident that no-one would see them in the darkening back alley, to look at the chocobo.
It was a very ordinary, average bird, a plain dull-yellow. It looked healthy and strong, which was good, but definitely was not something you'd enter in a show.
Ponzo's friend returned the leftover money, saying, "It was a pretty cheap bird. Thought it'd be a little more expensive, but the owner said that it had a little bad habit that lowered the price."
"What's that? It'd better not be anything lethal, I hope," Ponzo demanded.
The friend grinned and beckoned with a finger for Ponzo to lean closer; he whispered something in the Gabbiani patriarch's ear, which made both men laugh.
When the friend had gone off, Dulcina turned to her husband.
"What was so funny? I swear, Ponzo, if you got a defective chocobo--"
"No, not at all!" Ponzo raised his hands, grinning. He gathered his family around him in a tight circle, looking back at the tethered choc with laughing eyes. "It turns out that this bird here goes crazy whenever he hears a certain word. It drives him nuts. He actually knows what it means!"
"What is the word? Spell it out," Setzer urged from his mask of gauze.
"G-R-E-E-N-S," Ponzo whispered through his teeth. Behind them, the choc went absolutely wild.
"Waaaark! WAAARK!" it squawked, flapping its wings wildly, its tail feathers perfectly vertical, bobbing its head up and down and scratching. Ponzo hurried over, clamped a hand over its beak while he reached down for some grass growing near the porch steps, and stuffed the plants down the choc's throat.
"Palidor save us!" Setzer laughed, delighted. "Did you see that? That's amazing! I've got a spelling chocobo! I've never seen anything like it."
"It's a first for me," Dulcina remarked.
"Fantastic! Such a learned and smart chocobo needs to have a special name, don't you think? Son, what do you suggest?" Ponzo inquired, patting the yellow-feathered head. "Yeees, you're a smaaaart chocobo, aren't you? The smartest damn chocobo in the whole woooorld, yeeesss!"
"Oh, Papa, I can't think of anything. My head hurts too much."
"How about Chocy?" Ponzo suggested in an innocent voice.
"What?!" Dulcina rounded on him; it looked like she was about to clobber him. "Here we have a brilliant bird, and the best name you can come up with is Chocy?! Gods, Ponzo! You can do better than that, and you're not even drunk!"
Ponzo couldn't speak; he was too busy grinning impishly at his wife. The father and the son shared a sly glance between them.
"I think it's a great name," Setzer spoke up, "and a nice twist of irony. It's deep, Mama, very deep. Chocy it is."
Dulcina looked from her husband to her son, utterly exasperated. "I swear, you two will be the death of me."
"You know you love it." Ponzo pinched her fondly on the cheek as he passed by her to go into the house. Huffing out her breath, she followed behind, dragging Setzer along with her.
Setzer soon emerged back onto the porch, hefting his saddlebags; Ponzo was carrying the roll of bedding. Dulcina helped them secure the baggage with elastic straps.
Dulcina made a huge fuss, checking over the knots, making sure that all the necessaries were packed. After everything had passed her scrutiny, Setzer hoisted himself up in the saddle.
"How is it up there, my boy?" Ponzo called up, laying a hand on the choc's flank.
"A bit dizzy, but I'll be fine." The world was tilting a little before Setzer's eyes and his gut trembled, but it was nothing serious.
"Still, don't ride at full gallop. Use easy, smooth strides."
"Yes, Papa."
Dulcina stepped forward. "Remember, my boy: Ride at night, the moss always grows on the north side of trees, keep close to the rivers, sleep if you get too dizzy, shoot anybody who comes within a foot of you, wear clean underwear, and don't be a spendthrift when you first start out."
"Mama, please." Setzer rolled his eyes, when a nasty thought hit him. "But how can I be a spendthrift when I have no money? I don't have a single GP! IF I need to buy supplies, how can I--?"
"You don't think I forgot, did you?" Ponzo asked, winking. "I've got something for you, my boy."
From behind his coat, the eldest Gabbiani produced a black bolt of cloth with a flourish.
At first glance, Setzer thought it was just a traveler's cloak, but it was actually a knee-length coat of deep coal leather. A long row of pearly buttons ran up its front, and the button holes, the collar, the cuffs, and the hem were all lined with rich, dull gold braid. It was relatively simple by Jidoorian standards, but very elegant nonetheless.
"This coat has been in our family for generations. I don't think you can wear it much on the road, it's too fancy, but it'll keep you warm if the nights get too cold. You'd make better use of it than I would."
He handed up the gift to Setzer, who accepted it reverently. The smooth leather smelled of tavern smoke.
"There's a little pocket in the very back, just near the hem. Look in there," Ponzo suggested, his eyes twinkling.
It took Setzer several minutes to locate the pocket; the sky was getting dark, and the slit was extremely well concealed. He reached in, felt something, and pulled out a small pouch, which, when opened, held some gold coins and many small glittering gemstones. The secret family stash! The boy's jaw nearly hit the ground.
"Don't sell them all at once. That sends their price through the basement. Besides, people will become suspicious," Ponzo advised. Setzer nodded and put the pouch back. He looked down at his parents, and he felt such a pang of sadness, he felt ready to cry.
"Good-bye, Angel. We will send you letters--not often, we don't want to get you in trouble, but we will send them. And one day, when all of this is forgotten, we'll visit you. Stay in touch." Dulcina said, eyes sparkling with tears. She reached up and threw her arms around her boy. She kissed him on the bandage over his cheek; Setzer couldn't help but flinch in anticipation of pain, though none came.
When Dulcina had disengaged herself, Ponzo came forward and slapped his son on the thigh. His face was weary and solemn.
"The gods keep you, my boy. You'll make it out all right, I can see. But let me give you a few fatherly words of advice. Trust no-one. Do you understand? No-one."
"Papa," Setzer gaped, hardly believing his own ears, "what are you saying? Don't you trust Mama? Should I not even trust you?"
" Not even us. I trust your mother, my boy, because we are in a secure position. We're a middle-class couple, with no ambition. We love you, Son, but I can't guarantee anything. You know we would never intentionally harm you or give you away, but who knows what the future holds? You have a great chance of succeeding, but nothing is guaranteed. Trust is not something you can afford in your position. Gain new friends, bosses, girlfriends, like them, even love them. But never trust them, because no-one is worthy of it. Perhaps when you are firmly anchored and happy, you can take the liberty. But for now, don't ever take full stock in what anybody says. Always hold back from totally giving yourself up to them. Always prepare yourself for betrayal and ulterior motives. It'll save your heart and life, in the end. Do you understand? Answer, my boy!"
"Yes, Papa."
Ponzo nodded his satisfaction and embraced his son. Setzer squeezed back and struggled not to burst into tears.
"You will do fine. There's nothing you can't do. The Gabbiani blood will triumph!"
"Good-bye, Papa. Good-bye, Mama. If you ever see Mandy or Benny, tell them I'm okay, and I'll miss them." Happy memories of his friends came unbidden into his mind; he even became lonesome for Lorenzo. Setzer forced the thoughts away.
Ponzo winked and gave the choc a slap on the rump, making it run. Setzer let the reins go slack as he guided the mount silently through the sleepy streets.
Setzer turned around a little in his saddle and waved at the receding forms of his parents. He wanted to call out to them, but was afraid to, lest he give himself away by his voice. The two fading figures waved back, and were soon lost from sight.
*************
That night, Dulcina and Ponzo had a cold dinner in silence. In the midst of all the confusion and preparations, eating had totally evaded their minds. They did not speak because there was nothing to say or discuss. They were lost in their own thoughts.
When the dishes had been cleared away, Dulcina yawned and cast a weary eye upon her husband and gave a small sigh.
"It's late, honey," she stated the obvious, stifling another yawn. "Look, why don't you come to bed with me tonight? I haven't had your company for almost ten years. Stop beating yourself up--you know I love you."
Ponzo shook his head and said, "I know, but I'll just stay on the couch. It wouldn't help. Gods, how I miss him, and he's only been gone a few hours." With that, the man collapsed upon the couch, wrapping himself up in a blanket. Dulcina stared mutely at him, her bottom lip trembling a little, but she slowly made her arthritic way up the stairs, cursing her aging bones.
But it had hardly been a hour hence when Ponzo, desperately trying to sink into the oblivion of slumber, heard the patter of footsteps. He opened his eyes a crack and saw his wife hovering above him in her nightgown, cupping a candle in her hands. Her tired eyes glistened with tears. Ponzo dumbly wondered how often could a woman cry in such a short period of time, because his wife might have broken the record. But, then again, most mothers didn't have to endure what she had and was still going through.
"I can't stand it," she cried, her voice strangely collected but husky. "It's too lonely. I can't be a mother anymore, but I'm going to be the best gods-blessed wife you ever saw. If you're going to be such a schmuck, Ponzo, then I'll just have to come to you, won't I? Damn you and your maudlin self-pity!"
Before he knew exactly what was going on, Dulcina had practically jumped upon her husband, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him with frantic urgency. Ponzo was totally caught off guard, but when he found his breath again, he was quite pleased. Laughing hoarsely, he unbound Dulcina's bun and tugged at her hair playfully, nibbling gently at her ear, causing her to giggle like a schoolgirl.
"I've still got it," Ponzo beamed happily, extremely gratified that he could evoke such a response from his wife after all these years. They were too old for true passion now, but they could always play nonetheless.
"Yes, I thought you hadn't," Dulcina twittered, giving him a brief, teasing smooch; she snuggled deeper into his embrace, pressing her hands against his shirt as she looked down at him.
"You know," she said, "you're not going to sleep here anymore. You either come to bed properly like every good husband should, or I'll divorce your bum."
"Hmmm," Ponzo tapped his finger against her lips contemplatively. "Which one? Which one?"
Dulcina laughed and ran a hand through his hair. "Seriously, Ponzo, I mean it. You're a worthy man...stop doing this to yourself. Don't make me more lonely than I am. I don't want to die alone, without my boy or my husband."
Ponzo nodded his assent and wrapped his arms around her waist; Dulcina rested her face in the crook of his neck. She whispered into his ear: "Ponzo, you're a sot, a laggard, a beggar, a cheat, and a liar, just like everybody else was in your wretched family. But you know what? You're the only Gabbiani that ever had a heart."
"And you, my pretty wife," Ponzo laughed as he wrapped the blanket around both of them and rolled over so that he looked down at her, leaning on his angled arm, "are the only Gabbiani wife that wasn't a snob or a whore."
Dulcina said nothing, choosing to kiss him again instead.
Throughout the night they held each other close, their faces pressed side by side, each one being careful not to send the other tumbling off the narrow couch. They stared off into the inky distance, both thinking about their wayward boy and wishing him the best, wherever he was.