Chapter 112: The Watcher’s Attendant (1)

Ansel Corr was officially invalided out of the Far-Watch on a Tuesday in the second month after he had come back alive from the forest’s maw.

The paperwork for his discharge crossed Encrid’s desk before it reached anyone else’s, because by then almost everything concerning the Wall seemed to cross Encrid’s desk whether he had asked for it or not.

The medical assessment was brief.

His left arm had been lost, and the right could no longer bear weight above the shoulder without severe pain. His right eye had lost most of its vision, leaving him with little more than a blurred impression of anything beyond a few dozen paces. Two toes were missing from his right foot, and the damage to the rest of it had left him with a permanent weakness in his balance. He could walk, but only with difficulty, and the assessment noted that a mile on level ground was possible while anything beyond that would be a hurdle.

The conclusion was simply summarized by the Far-Watch office.

Permanently unfit for service beyond the stakes.

Corr was thirty-eight years old.

Nineteen of those years had been spent in the Far-Watch.

His career was over.

The Far-Watch’s own recommendation was written underneath the assessment.

Recommend discharge with full pension.

Encrid read the papers twice before putting them down.

He knew what the pension meant. The Far-Watch had a separate allowance for its scouts and patrol members who were no longer fit for service, a recognition of the fact that men who spent years beyond the Wall often came back carrying injuries that made ordinary work difficult or impossible.

It was not generous.

It was enough to keep a man from starving.

Nothing more.

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Captain Kass came to see him that afternoon.

He did not knock.

"Have you read Corr’s discharge?"

Encrid looked up from the papers and pointed at the discharge papers he had kept separately.

"Yes."

Kass pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down, but he did not immediately say anything. His eyes remained on the discharge papers.

"He is thirty-eight."

"I know."

"He should have another twenty years in him."

Encrid looked at him.

Kass gave a humorless smile.

"That is what I keep thinking."

He leaned back and rubbed a hand across his face.

"He has no family."

Encrid said nothing.

"No wife. No children. His parents are dead, and as far as I know he has no brothers or sisters left either. There are men in the Far-Watch who have known him for years, but most of them are still serving, and the ones who leave will eventually have their own lives to worry about."

Kass looked toward the window.

"Corr has never built anything outside the Watch."

"What does he receive?"

"Six silver a month. A room in the Shambles. Medical care when he needs it."

Encrid frowned.

"Six?"

"Enough to eat if he is careful. Enough to drink if he is not."

Kass’s expression tightened.

"There are eleven men living in the Shambles on Far-Watch pensions. I know all of them. I visit when I can."

He paused.

"Some of them were good scouts."

Encrid waited.

"One was the best tracker I had ever seen. Another could tell you how many men had crossed a patch of mud by looking at it from twenty paces away. One of them spent fifteen years beyond the stakes and came back with half his face burned off."

Kass looked down at his hands.

"They all thought they would find something else to do."

"And did they?"

"Some did."

The captain’s voice became quieter.

"Most didn’t."

He sat in silence for a moment before continuing.

"They start by telling themselves they are resting. Then they discover that nobody needs them to rest anymore. They wake up in a room where nothing is waiting for them, and the men they used to drink with are either dead, still beyond the stakes, or too busy raising families to sit beside them every evening."

His fingers tightened around his knee.

"Then they start drinking."

Encrid looked at the discharge papers again.

"He could find other work."

Kass gave him a tired smile.

"Doing what?"

Encrid did not answer.

"He cannot carry a crate. He cannot stand all day. He cannot climb the Wall properly anymore. He cannot go beyond the stakes. He has lost an arm, most of the sight in one eye, and part of his ability to walk properly."

Kass leaned forward.

"And the worst part is that none of those things are what worries me."

Encrid looked at him.

"Corr spent nineteen years becoming good at one thing. He knows the forest better than almost anyone alive on this Wall. He knows how a patrol moves, how animals behave when something has disturbed them, how long a journey should take, what tracks should look like after rain, and what a man’s report sounds like when he is frightened and trying not to admit it."

Kass’s eyes hardened.

"He has been beyond the stakes four hundred and eleven times."

Encrid had already heard the number, but Kass said it with the weight of someone who understood exactly what it meant.

"Four hundred and eleven."

He shook his head.

"And now all of that is apparently worth six silver and a room in the Shambles."

The captain stood and walked toward the window.

"I have watched men lose themselves after injuries that were nowhere near as bad as Corr’s. At least they had wives waiting for them. Children. Farms. Something to wake up for."

He turned back.

"Corr has the Far-Watch."

His voice was almost apologetic when he added,

"Or he did."

Encrid remained silent.

Kass looked at him for several seconds.

"I am worried that if you take that away from him all at once, there will not be much left."

The words stayed between them.

Encrid looked down at the discharge papers once more.

Then he asked, "Where is he?"

"East Bastion. Second level."

"Alone?"

Kass hesitated.

"Yes."

Encrid stood.

"I will see him tomorrow."

Kass studied him.

"You have something in mind."

"I usually do."

A faint smile touched Kass’s face, but it disappeared almost immediately.

"Whatever it is, make sure you tell him before he starts drinking."

He moved toward the door.

Just before leaving, Kass stopped.

He did not turn around.

For several seconds he simply stood there with one hand resting against the doorframe, his shoulders slightly hunched in a way Encrid had never seen from the Far-Watch Captain before.

Then, in a low voice, he said,

"Thank you."

Encrid looked at him.

Kass did not explain what he was thanking him for.

He did not need to.

✦ ✦ ✦