No Return by Zachary Jernigan Page B

might stare at a live scorpion.
    “No,” she answered. “I didn’t like killing him at all.”
    Are you sure? Fyra said. You liked killing the last man . You told me you did .
    Churls frowned. She knew the man her daughter referred to. The last time Fyra appeared, Churls had just killed an infantryman of the Castan Third in a fair fight. He had nearly bested her, and she had enjoyed every moment.
    “That’s true.” Churls smiled awkwardly, like a person trying on an expression for the first time. “But that was a very different situation. You do see the difference, don’t you, Fyra?”
    The girl looked down at her hand, and slowly let it fall back to her side.
    She said, There’s no difference, Mama . This one’s just as dead as the other one .
    Churls shook her head. “You’re not seeing what I mean. The man I killed in Donda was a trained warrior. He and I both knew what we were getting into. The difference is clear. I know you’re old enough to see it. And you can, can’t you, now that I’ve explained it?”
    Fyra disappeared and reappeared next to the boy’s corpse. For a long while, she simply stared at him. Churls grew uncomfortable and tried to think of something to say. Surely, the child could tell the difference. She was not, after all, a child.
    Fyra cocked her head like a dog, then cocked it the other way.
    No , she finally said. I don’t see the difference at all .
    Their eyes met from across the theater. Churls formed the old words in her mind, working up the nerve to speak. I wish you wouldn’t watch me when I fight. I wish I’d been there when you died. I’m happy I wasn’t. I love you. I hate you. Why don’t you leave me alone? Don’t leave, sweetie. Stay. Though the words were true, none of them sounded right, and her lips would not move no matter how hard she tried. Nonetheless, a raw lump formed in her throat, as though she had been speaking for a long time indeed.
    “I...” The word was a croak. “Fyra, you...”
    I don’t want to talk about this boy anymore , the child said. And someone is waiting for you in your hostel .
    She disappeared, back to the land of the dead.
    ‡
    Churls finished her fifth beer, worried that the evening might result in a bad decision. Frankly, the situation felt out of her hands. The young men in the bar, none of whom had been present at the fight but had heard of her victory—young men who were nothing like their fathers, who knew the price of killing—would not let her pay for her drinks. And as the fight and Fyra’s appearance had not stopped troubling her, she decided to keep drinking.
    Last but by no means least, she had no intention of returning to her hostel. Someone is waiting for you .
    Fuck that , Churls thought. Probably trying to collect on her debt. She owed nearly sixty ounces in gambling losses. Onsa was only eight hundred miles away, and she had not been overly attentive while covering her tracks. As if on cue, a hand fell on her shoulder. She did not tense up, but let her right fist drop into her lap like it had fallen. Closer to her sword, better position for an elbow to the groin.
    “Thought I’d find you here,” a familiar voice said. There was garlic on his breath. “Another drink?”
    Churls closed her eyes and smiled into her empty glass. “This is a bad dream, then, isn’t it? Of all the people I wanted to see, in all the world, you’re the last.” She turned to the speaker and winced theatrically. “You look like shit, Gorum. You know you look like shit? You woke up and told yourself, I’m going to look like shit today?”
    The man grinned. “I’m one of the only friends you got left in the world. Better be nice to me.”
    They laughed and embraced. She held the contact longer than usual.
    Over his shoulder, Churls saw scowls on a few faces. We bought you a beer , the expressions said. And now you’re running off with him?
    She had experienced their kind of attention many times before. In the badlands, miles