“No one has been sick yet!” he defended himself, and then added shamefacedly, “I told Amzil not to go. But Epiny has been so sick with this pregnancy, and there’s some tea that an old woman in town makes that seems to help her. Amzil insisted on going for a fresh supply when we ran out. It was no good my telling her to stay inside. I tell you, Nevare, once there is a woman under a man’s roof, he can just forget about being in charge of his own life. Two women, and he doesn’t even have a life anymore.” He shook his head as if bothered by gnats and then glared at me. “But you were explaining how your wagon came to be in a barracks stable surrounded by dead men.”

“No, I wasn’t,” I replied testily. “I was telling you that on my way home, I was attacked. They hit me hard and I went down fast, so I can’t tell you how many they were or what they looked like. When I came to, I was facedown on the ground and Clove and my wagon were gone. I managed to get home, spent a day recovering, and then got back to my work.”

“And you didn’t come to town to report it?” he asked me severely.

“No. I didn’t. Spink, I expected town to be in the first throes of the plague. I’m surprised it isn’t, but I still think it will come. And when it does I’ll have the graves dug and waiting.” I sat down in my own chair across from him and rubbed at my face. I suddenly felt a hundred years old. “It’s really the only thing I can do for anyone,” I added morosely.

“Well, I can see that you’re discouraged and worried. We all are, Nevare. When the Speck magic isn’t flooding us with discouragement, we’re either drugged or simply seeing how senseless life on this post can be. But to not report the attack and theft now make you seem, well, involved somehow in those deaths. You know there were rumors about you. That was why I asked you to stay out here and out of trouble. And now people are saying—”

“How did they die?” I demanded suddenly.

“Well, I don’t exactly know. Amzil said they were just sprawled all around your wagon, like they’d been gathered around it and then just died right there.”

“Who were they?”

“Nevare, I don’t know. I didn’t hear the story firsthand, and between Amzil’s blubbering over you and the hysteria that followed, I didn’t get much information. Only that Sergeant Hoster was saying that you’d probably killed them all to shield yourself and that you should be arrested until we can discover what’s going on.”

“Hoster would say that. The man hates me, for no reason that I know. Do you think they will arrest me?”

“Nevare, I don’t know! We still have the inspection team here, and the mysterious death of four men inside the barracks stable doesn’t make any of us look good. Command will have to cover it up, explain it away, or find a scapegoat.” He rubbed his face and then looked a stark plea at me. “You didn’t have anything to do with it, did you?”

If he hadn’t asked me directly, I could have maintained my deceit. But Spink had always had that honest, open stare of a boy who wants to believe the best of his friends. Even in a face that was beginning to show the care lines of a man, that look still demanded honesty. If I lied to him now, I’d know that I’d given up all hopes of ever being the man I thought I’d become.

“I probably killed them,” I admitted bluntly. “But I don’t know how. And I didn’t do it on purpose.”

He sat very still, looking at me. His mouth was a tiny bit ajar, and I could hear his breath going in and out of it. He looked as if he was about to speak, and then his face crumpled. “Oh, Nevare. No. I can’t go back and tell Epiny that. I can’t. It will kill her. It will kill her and the baby and they’re all I have in this godforsaken piss-hole of a post.” He leaned forward, his face in his hands, and spoke hoarsely through his fingers. “How could you do this, Nevare? Who have you become? I’ve seen the changes in you, but I always thought I knew the true heart of who you were. How could you kill men in your own regiment? How?”

“The magic did it,” I said softly. “It wasn’t really me, Spink. It was the magic.” It sounded like a childish excuse. I didn’t expect him to believe me, but he didn’t lift his face from his hands or interrupt me. I found myself telling him the whole story of what had happened to me in the last week. I didn’t mince words or find excuses for myself. I told him everything, even going back to fill in the truth about Olikea and myself. It felt good, cleansing, to be honest finally with someone. His shoulders sagged as I spoke, as if he took on the burden that I shed. When I was finished, I felt hollow and he looked like a man crushed beneath the weight of a world. Two worlds, I thought to myself.