Carnifex

5/7/468 AC, Quarters Number One, Isla Real

Hamilcar had inherited the huge size of his mother's eyes, along with a blend of color from both parents. His were a brilliant green with the same dark circles around the iris that gave his father's such a frighteningly penetrating quality. He turned those big green eyes up at his mother and said, "Mama, can I ask you for something?"

Lourdes, puttering in the kitchen, stopped what she was doing, looked down at her eldest and said, "Yes, of course, baby. What is it?"

"When daddy goes back to the war . . . Mama, I want to go with him."

Christ, no, not my baby, too.

"You're too small," she answered. "You're only four. When you're a grown man of five we'll discuss this again."

"Does that mean I can go when I'm five?"

"No, it means we'll discuss it. Then. Not before."

This was not an entirely satisfactory answer so Hamilcar upped the stakes. "Mama, if you don't tell me I can go when I'm five . . . I'll go over your head." He heard someone or another of his daddy's soldiers use that expression. He was pretty sure he understood what it meant.

Lourdes did understand what it meant. He'd go to his father to ask permission. Which Patricio just might give. And what objections will I have? I kept Hamilcar in the war zone for almost two years when he was a baby, just so I could be with my husband. I can't object to him being there now that's he's past being a baby.

"Do you want to break your mother's heart, Ham?" she asked.

"No."

"Then please don't 'go over my head.' Wait until you're five and we will discuss it."

Five is not so long a wait. "All right, Mama. But if you don't let me go then, I'll go over your head."