Chapter 7 #2
Of course, nothing would be solved by getting sloshed, but I was willing to try it.
Maybe the tsarina would prefer a staggering drink-bleary imbecile who wouldn’t remember anything he had done, ridiculous or not, the next day.
For the present circumstances though, my mind quieted and allowed me a moment of peace despite all.
I could see how such quantities of potent drink might be alluring.
If I could not change anything sober, being insensible to it offered a tempting escape.
I raised my arms above my head, stretching my shoulders in their confines. What would happen if I fell asleep here and I was not in my nest by morning? The empress had dictated my attire and my duties but not my whereabouts. She might send for me, but I couldn’t be arsed to care.
Drook lounged on the chaise, halfway between sitting and reclining in the same vodka-induced torpor. Though silent, his company provided a great degree of comfort.
Thank the Great Holy for the tsarina’s jesters. I never wanted to face the day now, but because of them, I became capable of doing so without wanting to die every moment.
Drook rolled to his side. The guttering candles offered dramatic lighting, forming a greater mountain range of his face than usual. The trim of his velvet suit twinkled in the darkened room. He stretched expansively with a yawn.
“How did you manage to end up here?” I asked, not the least bit subtle or sensitive to a possibly annoying question.
“Her uncle, the tsar,” Drook explained. “He had an unhealthy obsession with short people. He threw a wedding and invited anyone four and a half feet or shorter to attend. Many of the attendees, like me, were already performers, and he kept some of us on. It was a fortunate opportunity for us. He paid for my wedding too. The tsarina has at least maintained the tradition of keeping us well-accommodated.”
I vaguely remembered hearing about the event of the Great Tsar’s jesters getting married. Many condemned it as a ribald and chaotic affair, but knowing the tellers, they fully enjoyed the raunchy abandon of the occasion.
I asked without thinking, “Do you and Klessa have any children?”
“Three, all of them grown and living their own lives now.”
My throat clogged up.
“What about you?” he asked.
“I have buried three.”
He breathed hard out his nose and then expelled a breath. “I cannot imagine.”
“Perhaps it is a mercy.” I closed my eyes and a tear slipped down my cheek. “They do not have to endure my punishment. And I do not have to face my children’s shame of me. I have found all of this difficult, but I do not think I could bear that.”
Barely above a whisper, Drook asked, “And your wife?”
“Wives,” I corrected. “Both dead too.”
“Blyat,” Drook muttered.
I smiled wearily at the casual but extreme profanity.
“Blyat,” I agreed.
I should have stopped drinking, but I pried myself from the chair to find another glass of vodka on the table. I downed it before lying back in the chair again. I should have done a lot of things and hadn’t. Why start now?
“Here’s a hypothetical for you,” Drook posed. “Tomorrow, the tsarina changes her mind. You can be reinstated and allowed to live the life that should have always been yours here in Ilyichia.”
“Or?”
“Or you can leave Ilyichia again, but you leave without anything that was yours.” He propped his chin on his hand. “Which would you choose?”
“I would leave Ilyichia. Without hesitation.” I drew in a breath that filled me as Varnasia had once filled me with hope.
Varnasia had been the pinnacle of my happiness.
Even if I spent the rest of my days there as a laborer or established in some other lowly profession, it would be paradise compared to Ilyichia.
Then I expelled my breath, draining my lungs as I had been drained of everything but my miserable life. “I should never have come back.”
“Why did you then? Did you miss home? Family?”
“I only came back to bury my wife and child.” New tears welled in the corners of my eyes. “I didn’t intend to stay.”
The silence lingered in the air then, Drook somewhere between respectfully quiet and confused.
Eventually, he asked, “Why didn’t you leave right away?”
“They arrested me the day after the interment.”
“The day after?” Drook nearly rose off the chaise, his affront and horror palpable even from my relaxed position in the chair. “Has no one any pity or sympathy left?”
“It seems not.” I wiped at my eyes. “I am so tired of grieving, Drook. And it shames me to be so discontent with my lot when you and all the others I have met have risen to this position while I have fallen to it.”
“It is not equitable,” Drook assured me. “You have no reason for shame on that account. The tsarina has malice toward you. She barely remembers I exist.”
“Be grateful.”
“I am.”
I stared at the handwoven rug beneath the table and chairs, examining the orderly knots on the fringe.
“Was getting married again worth it?” Drook asked hesitantly.
“I loved her,” I admitted. “My first wife and I were compatible and affectionate, more than can usually be wanted from a state marriage. But when I met Irena, it inspired something I had never experienced before, something I did not think I could live without. I wouldn’t change my decision about marrying her.
” I wiped at my eyes again, disintegrating by the moment into that weepy, pathetic prince the jesters would likely have despised me for.
“And then she died, and all my titles and wealth and family connections couldn’t save her.
” I couldn’t save her or the baby. Tears resumed down my face, and I did not wipe them away.
“I’m sure all think I was a fool to marry her instead of taking her as a mistress, but that hardly seemed honorable.
My only mistake — indeed, my only regret — was in coming back. ”
“So you would consider getting married again?”
“The tsarina would love that, wouldn’t she?
” I snorted. “She would probably separate me from my manhood in such an event.” I ran my hands through my hair.
“No, things would have to be much different for me to even think about getting married again. And I would have to be an utter fool to consider it. But, now that I’ve said it, watch, something will happen to make me regret my words.
But then, I’m better known for my looks than my intelligence. ”
Drook laughed and rolled onto his back again.
I glanced at the doorway and miserably contemplated returning to my basket nest. I had no desire to see what tomorrow offered. It would be the same as every other day. I would replace the beak mask and pull up my hood. I would be shunned, and mocked, and treated like dirt beneath their shoes.
“Maybe this won’t be forever,” Drook said from his reclined position. “Maybe she will change her mind. Or forgive you. Or perhaps a change in power will see you free.”
“Maybe,” I agreed. I ran my hand over my chin and decided that shaving could wait until tomorrow night since I did not trust myself with a razor. “But I don’t have much hope.”
He turned his head to glare at me as if he could read the direction of my thoughts. “As long as you’re alive, Kvasnik, there’s always hope.”