“True enough. I was but a boy. But I was also the only relative capable of avenging my father, and I was off to a miserable and shameful start. I vowed then that the moment of weakness in the deadroom would be my last. Vowed that I would punish the man who killed my father, who prevented me from having even the chance to grow to appreciate the man he was, instead of recoiling from the one I thought I knew. I made these vows and several more, not knowing that they were but the first I would likely break.” He blew on his hands, shook his head, and said, “Rest while you are able.” Then he disappeared behind some trees.
Vendurro looked at me and said, “Revealing a cowardly deed is about the bravest thing a man can do. Not saying it’s cowardly, what he done, running like that. Sure I would have done the same, or bawled like a babe before even getting to that deadhouse, had to be dragged there kicking and screaming. But in his eyes it is. And…well, plague me, but I never heard him go off like that in all my years. Can’t say it don’t make me a wee bit nervous.”
I couldn’t disagree.
Vendurro moved off to find his own spot to sleep in and I looked around at our company. With Syldoon on the ridge, out in the woods to spot any incoming patrols, and back with the wagon, it really did seem a meager force. I pulled my thin blanket around me, vowing not to think about the likelihood of us all dying in this forest, and tried to find any stretch of earth that wouldn’t prove miserable. Even after clearing out every pine cone, pebble, and stick I could find, my chosen patch of ground still seemed just as bumpy and intent on keeping sleep at bay.
I tossed and turned for some time, and each movement only served to make things worse. Still trying to get over my amazement that Braylar not only spoke at great length with little reticence at all, but chose to reveal something so intimate and painful, I wrapped my blanket on my shoulders and walked out of our small glade, careful not to kick any of the bodies on my way. They were easy enough to avoid, even in the dark, as the Syldoon were breathing deeply or rumbling away in a mixed cadence of snores.
I climbed over a log, ducked under a tree, and was looking to find a good place to relieve myself. It was the woods, after all, so there wasn’t a really bad place, but I’d been told to walk far enough way that I didn’t piss on anyone’s head, but not so far I got lost in the woods.
Satisfying those requirements, I was about to pull my trousers down when I felt, rather than saw, someone nearby. I froze, hoping it was another Syldoon, and not a Brunesman sneaking through the brush, or an animal, or better still that I was merely imagining things.
I looked around. With the horned moon high in the sky, it didn’t take long to see Skeelana’s silhouette. I took a few steps closer, approaching from the side, watching the details of her profile materialize in the dark-the large lips, the puckish nose, the hair seemingly trying to flee her head in as many directions as possible. I was about to say her name softly when I noticed her eyes were closed. She stayed like that, standing perfectly straight, eyelids shut but fluttering gently, for a long time. As she wasn’t a horse, the only other thing I could imagine was that she was one of those people afflicted with nightwalking. There was a man like that in my wing of the university. He could wake up almost anywhere at any time of night. The headmaster had warned us to leave him be, under threat of the cane, so we had. I’d never seen them wake him or try.
But that was a contained building and complex-this was the wild, with a camp full of enemies half a mile away. I was debating whether to try to rouse her, or to possibly try to direct her back to wherever Soffjian had bedded down, when Skeelana’s eyes suddenly sprang open.
She didn’t look disoriented, which was odd, and she turned to head back to our small camp and saw me standing there watching, she jumped back, hands coming up, either to defend herself or to work some awful Memoridon magic on me.
I said, “Skeelana, it’s me! It’s Arki!” in something between a hiss and a whisper-a hissper.
She lowered her hands, though slowly, as if she wasn’t sure whether to believe me, or was possibly still considering working some invisible spell. “Damn you! What are you doing out here?”
Skeelana sounded flustered, or embarrassed, or both.
“I’m sorry, I needed to, uh, empty… anyway, what are you doing out here?”
Skeelana crossed her arms in front of her chest, though whether to ward off the chill or because she was adopting that staunchly offended posture only women have mastered, I couldn’t say. “That’s actually no business of yours.”
Well, that answered the arms question. “I didn’t mean to startle you, or, uh… I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t startle me. You-” she snapped. But after a moment, forced herself to soften the edge, if only a little. “You did, actually. A little. I’m mostly mad at myself for not being more careful. You did nothing wrong. In fact, you’ve been nothing but kind, actually. Which I find a little unnerving, to be frank.” She looked around, hearing something small rustling in the brush nearby. “We really do need to stop meeting in the dark alone like this. It might set people to talking.”
She was making light, but there was actually some truth to that. I tried imagining what Mulldoos would say if he caught me out here with a Memoridon. It wouldn’t be pretty.
I wanted to excuse myself, in part because my bladder was full to bursting, in part, because it was the smart thing to do, but I stayed. “You said it was no business of mine, and I respect that. I do.”
“Do you?” There was some amusement there, though whether it was tinged with flirtation or irritation, it was impossible to say.
“I do indeed. But tell me this one thing, please. You weren’t night-walking, were you? Or meditating? And you obviously weren’t relieving yourself. What were you doing, exactly?”
“For someone allegedly respectful of boundaries, and wanting to know one thing only, you do ask far too many questions.”
I expected that, and nodded. “That’s fair. Well, then, I should-”
“I was sending a message,” she said quickly, as if she was revealing far more than she should have. “If you must know.”
I pulled the blanket tighter to ward off a cold breeze, and then wondered if not offering it to her was rude, or if offering it would be impudent and rude for different reasons. I opted for the second rudeness. When she declined the blanket, I couldn’t help asking, “A message? To another Memoridon, I take it.”
“Exceptionally clever.” I wasn’t sure, but it seemed like she was smiling.
“You can… what? Pass thoughts to each other? Read minds?” The question didn’t sound as ridiculous as I expected it to. Hearing of such things before meeting Lloi and now the Memoridons, I dismissed them as uneducated superstition or at least exaggeration. Now, I was almost prepared to believe everything.
“No,” she replied. “Not exactly. Not like you think, anyway. We can’t pass along long complex thoughts, or communicate the way you and I are now, rapid exchanges and questions and nuance and so forth. We transfer memories to each other.”
“Memories? I don’t understand. Memories of what? What you’ve seen recently? Heard?”
Skeelana shook her head. “No. That is, the most gifted and experienced can do something like that, provided they are much closer to each other. But at this distance, the only thing we can reliably pass to one another are small bits of image and sound that we’ve all memorized before.”
That sounded incredible, but again, having seen what I had, not entirely improbable. “Like a code, you mean? What kind of memories?”
She replied, “Something like that. A code, that is. Small, short, simple memories are the easiest. A fish swimming in circles in clear water means one thing. A hawk diving for its prey another. Something active, distinct, but still brief. String them together, and you can convey a great deal.”
It was foreign, and sounded marvelous, really. But everything she said led to more questions. “Why not just memorize an alphabet then? Transmit one letter after another, like writing, with your mind? Wouldn’t that be the simplest way?”