Shaman's Crossing (The Soldier Son Trilogy #1)

I seized his wrists and stood up, dragging him with me. He lolled like a rag doll. I put one of my arms round his waist and held his other arm across my shoulder. It was awkward, for I was substantially taller than he was. “Walk, Caulder!” I yelled in his ear, and he muttered some response. I dragged him along with me as I cut across the big square toward the cabstands. Sometimes he muttered, and his legs moved as if he were taking giant strides, but his words made no sense.

The Great Square proved its size to me that long night. We were jostled forward sometimes and sometimes blocked by standing crowds who could not or would not give way to us. We were forced to go around one roped-off area where couples were dancing. The music of the instruments seemed at odds with the cavorting of the masked people, and some of them looked more tormented than festive as they leaped and spun and flung their arms about.

Caulder threw up once without warning at all, a gushing spew that very narrowly missed a fine lady’s skirts. I held him as he heaved and spouted like a bad pump, grateful only that the lady’s escort hurried her away instead of challenging me. When he was finished, I dragged him away from his mess. I sat him down on the edge of one of the frozen fountains; I wished in vain for water. I took my damp handkerchief from my pocket and wiped his chin and running nose as best I could, and then threw it away. “Caulder! Caulder, open your eyes. You’ve got to get up and walk. I can’t drag you all the way home.”

But in reply he only shook. His face was pale, and his skin remained clammy. I got up and walked away from him, leaving him sprawled in a half-sitting heap like an abandoned pile of laundry. To this day, I do not know what made me turn around and go back for him. His situation was none of my making and I owed him nothing. I felt only animosity toward the tattling, tagalong brat, and yet I could not leave him there to face the cold awakening he deserved. I went back.

I gave up trying to walk him. I lifted him across my shoulders as if he were a wounded man and carried him through the crowd. It was a better solution, for more people saw us coming and got out of the way. When I finally reached the cabstand, there was a long queue. The streets were still choked with pedestrians and so the wait was tripled as cabs struggled to reach the curb to disgorge the passengers they had and to take on new ones.

When finally it reached our turn, the cabbie demanded his money up front before he would even open a door for us. I stood there, turning my pockets out for what little money I had left and cursing myself for my free spending earlier in the evening. I heartily wished I had kept the money I’d given the fat man. “Caulder! Have you any money?” I asked, shaking him. Another couple thrust in front of us, flashing a gold piece, and our cabbie immediately jumped down and opened the door for them with a bow. Despite my angry protests, he remounted the box and began trying to force his team out into the crowded street.

Fate intervened then or I do not know what would have become of us. Another carriage pulled into the spot left open by our departing cab. The driver jumped down and opened the door to let a fine couple out. The man wore a tall silk hat and escorted a woman in an embroidered gown topped by a shimmering fur cape. She murmured something in dismay and he said, “I am sorry, Cecile, but this is as close as the cab can bring us. We shall have to walk to General Scoren’s house from here.” It was only when he spoke that I recognized Dr. Amicas from the Academy infirmary. He looked much different than he had the night he had tended Gord. I think my Academy overcoat drew his eye, for as he passed he looked at me and then, as his eyes fell on Caulder, he exclaimed in disgust, “Oh, for the mercy of the good god! Who let that silly whelp run loose on a night like this?”

He didn’t expect an answer and I gave him none. I stood, holding Caulder upright beside me, and half hoped he would not recognize me, for I did not wish to be connected to Caulder’s misfortune. His wife’s face was full of dismay at the delay. Dr. Amicas spoke to me harshly. “Get him home as soon as you can. And put your own coat round him, you great fool! He’s far colder than he should be! How much did he drink? More than a bottle, I’ll wager, and I’ve seen more than one young cadet die of too much to drink in too little time.”

His words shocked and frightened me, and I blurted out, “I’ve no money for a carriage, Dr. Amicas. Will you help us?”

I thought he would strike me, he looked so angry. Then he reached into his pocket with one hand as he grabbed the sleeve of his departing driver’s coat with the other. “Here, cabman, take these two young idiots back to the King’s Cavalla Academy. I want you to take them right to Colonel Stiet’s door, do you hear me? Nowhere else, no matter what they say.” He pushed the money into the man’s hand and then the doctor turned on me.