One More Confessional
Part Eleven
197S9.9.18
I don't know why we're even arguing about this. Baralai's life is at stake here, and all the guys can do is yap about honor. What is there to discuss? Evil or not, those pistols are his only option.
We'd been hearing another team for a couple of hours when Gippal dragged us all to this cave, which contains a cold freshwater spring. It was like discovering paradise, but I only had time to splash a single handful on my face before I heard gunshots from behind us.
It was Squadron Three, back to harass us again. We fought back, and won, although Baralai took a nasty shot to his hip. One on the other side is dead; coincidentally, it's the guy who tried to feel me up on the boat. I can't say that I'm too sorry.
But then, their bastard captain decided to blame Baralai for the death of his man and challenged him to a duel. And the idiot boy accepted! What in the name of the fayth was he thinking? He's wounded, the captain outweighs him by at least a hundred pounds, and the death of the other wasn't even his fault! I don't know who fired the actual killing shot, but there's no way it was Baralai -- he was in entirely the wrong area of the field. Unfortunately, I was in the thick of the fight, so I didn't have the opportunity to record any of it, and I highly doubt the other squad's recorder will help us out; I wouldn't, in his place. So it's the captain's word against ours.
Baralai wants to fight with his staff or bare hands. If he weren't hurt, sure -- the captain doesn't seem like the type to be trained in hand-to-hand, and Baralai's skills in that area are some of the best I've ever seen. But he is hurt, and badly. The bullet went deep, damaging muscle. He can barely walk, much less participate in solo combat. Gippal suggested using the rigged guns first, but if he hadn't, I would have. But Baralai is whining about his honor, and from the look on his face I think Nooj agrees. Naturally.
Gippal is trying to talk sense into Baralai now, so far without much success. Once the salve I just made has finished setting, I'll go work on his wound some more and see if I can't sweet-talk him into going along with it. Maybe bearing pain medication will give me a little more pull.
Fayth, is every man I know more concerned about his honor than his life? At least Gippal has some sense.
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Gippal and I both did our best to be persuasive, but Nooj changed his mind and was the deciding factor in the end. Baralai might be willing to argue with us, but not with Nooj. He used the pistols.
While we were in discussion, two more squads showed up, One and Two. It turns out that half the people here, including the Squad Three captain, know Nooj by reputation. The captain gladly let him set the ground rules for the duel and hold the pistol box, which enabled him to get Baralai the unaltered weapon without anything looking fishy. To help with appearances, I turned on my camera to "record" the proceedings, but the sphere I used was an old dud. I've already checked, and it didn't capture anything; it's just static. Getting the sphere from Squad Three's recorder will be a bit of a challenge, but I think I'm up for it. If he marks it the way he's supposed to, it should be easy enough to lift the right one and slip another dud in its place. I'm glad I saved a few bad recordings.
Anyway, it came off without a hitch. Baralai got the safe gun. The captain fired the altered one and died almost instantly. Gippal grabbed both weapons and immediately hid them -- I don't know where and I don't want to. In a case like this, it's always safest to have as little information as possible.
When it was over, we finally got to immerse ourselves in that spring. It is so glorious to be clean and not thirsty. The cold water felt wonderful on my burned skin. Nooj stayed in there a long time, and when he came out he still looked pensive. Does he feel it was dishonorable to let Baralai use the treacherous weapons? Would he really have been willing to sacrifice life for honor? Is that what it means to be a Deathseeker? Does Nooj feel some stain on his honor so deep that only his death can wash it clean? How could something so vague as honor be worth dying for? It's so stupid!
All right. Deep down, I know that's not really fair. Nooj isn't like the warrior monks in Kilika, mouthing words about honor and then just doing whatever the hell he wants. It's a serious business to him. But to apply such strict rules when someone you care about is in danger, to elevate some abstract code to greater importance than life itself? No, I can't comprehend it.
Of course, in the end, he didn't allow Baralai's death to preserve his honor -- either of their honor. So maybe he's not as incomprehensible as all that, after all.
Ugh, all questions, no answers, and I'm not coming to any conclusions tonight. It's late, I should get some rest. Maybe I'll actually manage to relax enough to sleep. Perverse as it sounds, I think today's excitement was good for me, despite the danger to Baralai and the risk we took -- it gave my mind something else to focus on, kept me from obsessing over what happened in the desert. We'll see.
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Nooj came to me a few minutes ago and invited me to share his bed tonight. His tone was hesitant, his posture almost nervous, as if he were concerned that my answer might be no. I've never seen him so tentative, about anything. I wonder if he's feeling guilty for turning on me as viciously as he did, if he realizes just how badly he hurt me.
I'm not convinced that sleeping with him is a good idea, given how mixed my feelings towards him still are. But I've missed him desperately these last few nights. So I accepted right away, not giving myself time to overthink it. I need to know if I can be with him again, and this may be the only way to find out.
197S9.9.19
Spending last night wrapped in Nooj's arms was exactly what I needed. His touch soothed me, allowed me to believe that he's really and truly still alive. There was an unusual intensity to our joining last night, an urgency to his need that I haven't felt before, and I couldn't help but respond in kind -- we fell on one another in a near frenzy and both collapsed into sleep almost immediately afterward. Although maybe the urgency was mine, too, born of the awareness that this could be the last time we are together like this, if he finds his death before our next opportunity.
I'll have to do my best not to think about that. Well, that's probably impossible, so at the very least I need to not brood. This is the reality of Nooj. If I'm going to continue as his lover, I have to accept that. And I will continue. It all comes down to this: I need him far too much to leave voluntarily. For now, I'll take what he can give me and let it be enough.
But if he thinks I'm going to let him give up on his life without a fight, he's crazy. If I have to stop him again, I will. Whatever the consequences.
If he talked in his sleep last night, it either didn't wake me or I don't remember it. I'm guessing he remained silent, though -- I feel more at peace that I have in a very long time. We'll see how long that lasts; a messenger found Nooj right before we went to bed last night and informed him that the Maesters are here and want to talk to us this morning. We're heading to their tent any minute; I hope we have our stories straight.
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What a bunch of self-righteous, pompous fools!
You would think that the recorder would be the Maesters' ideal witness -- impartial (in theory, anyway, and there's no reason for them to think otherwise in my case), able to take in the big picture and small details of a scene simultaneously, and in possession of a recording of the event that she has almost certainly watched at least once. But after I handed over the useless sphere, they had maybe five questions for me, each of which I was able to answer without conveying any actual information. I don't know whether they had no interest because I'm the recorder and so less important than the "real" soldiers or because I'm a woman, but either way they basically ignored me. Idiots. Living too long in Bevelle must rot the mind. Baralai is lucky he got out when he did.
At least I got something for my time. It's their own fault, really -- you should never store your best brandy so close to the door. I snagged one bottle with each hand, then casually passed them to Baralai as I exited the tent. Without saying a word, he hid them in his robes. If I ever end up back on the streets, I should make sure to bring him with me. We'd make an excellent team. Anyway, then I caught Nooj's eye. First he looked absolutely astonished, then impressed. I guess he didn't know about my talent for, hmm, let's call it illicit acquisition. "Stealing" is such a vulgar word.
Gippal is in there now, and it looks like he might be awhile. Time to go run my sphere-swapping errand.
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That was much easier than I thought it would be, and not at all what I was expecting.
After I left the guys outside the Maester's camp, I went off to find the recorder for Squadron Three. I had no specific plan for switching the spheres; I figured I'd assess the situation first and then decide what approach would be best. But to my surprise, he noticed me immediately, almost as if he were waiting for me, and waved me over.
Turns out that he hated his captain, as did the other surviving member of the team and pretty much everyone else who knew the man. After the duel, he destroyed the recording and decided that, if questioned, he'd tell the Maesters he forgot to load a sphere into the camera. So much for the impartiality of recorders.
The upshot is that there are no spheres showing the event at all. That's a good thing. Very good.
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We seem to have gotten away with it, for now at least; Gippal spun an impressive tale, and Nooj wasn't pressed for details. We're breaking out the brandy now to celebrate. Maybe it's a little early in the day for hard alcohol, but so what? Baralai is alive and mending, the Maesters' noses are tweaked, and Nooj and I are repairing that which was broken between us. Life is much improved. I can drink to that.