Iron Chamber of Memory (32 page)

The guilt was unbearable. Manfred had died a hero’s death. And yet that horrible and traitorous spark of hope and love and longing would not be quenched in Hal’s heart. Was he glad his best friend was dead? The idea was so terrible, that he wished he lived in some world where a magic spell could sponge away all memory of his life, and leave him innocent again.

With such thoughts as these, he went and found an old church, and entered the booth and said his confession, even though it had been so long he had forgotten the formula. The voice from beyond the grille, blessing him with pardon and peace, also asked him a pointed question or two, and offered merely frank advice, but which, in this place, at that time, seemed almost supernatural. “Do not run away from this widow you love until she remembers her feelings, whatever they are, for you. Wait a year and a day.”

His first impulse was to flee away from Sark and the strange house forever, and never lay eyes on it again. And yet, to Laurel, he was a firm and close friend, and she asked him to the funeral quite naturally, never imagining the storm of passion in his heart he hid from her so skillfully. And the priest’s words convinced him not to obey this first impulse.

When he saw her by the light of the one candle held below her chin, now with her short pageboy bob of hair beneath her veil of mourning, he saw her face somehow wiser and sadder than he had ever seen it. Her saw her lips move, whispering prayers he had never heard her say before.

One by one, the mourners dropped their spent candles into the grave, and the diggers threw dirt atop the coffin.

And, afterward, he saw her blessing the villagers who loved her and whom she loved. Liam Levrier doffed his cap, and knelt, and kissed her hand, and Laurel looked as regal as a princess then, and nothing sly and ironic was in her looks, and there was no bitterness at the edges of her lips.

When the line of mourners started walking back toward the house, she stepped over to Hal then, and smiled at him, and took his hand. He was ashamed at how his hand seemed to tingle at her touch, trembling with joy.

Laurel walked slowly, letting the others get ahead, and out of earshot.

In the starry darkness of that unlit island, her voice seemed clear as music, and he was painfully aware of her nearness, her warmth, her scent. “I have a confession to make,” she said softly. “For a time, I blamed you for his death.”

Hal started to speak. She laid her silk-gloved fingers on his lips, silencing him. She said, “It is unfair, I know, but I found myself so full of doubts right before the wedding, and my mind was wandering. I think it was beginning to affect my memory. Do you remember the time we went golfing, just to have a day off, just to escape from the stress? I never did find out why you walked off in such a huff. But I so enjoyed that day. It was a time when I could truly be myself, say what I liked without calculating, just walk along with a friend. It is as if I remembered myself then. Well, I found myself thinking about you … a little too much, maybe. And that all came back in a rush when Manny died. So, unfair as it is, I blamed you. As if you had wished for him to die.”

“I would hang myself before I would wish him harm,” said Hal.

“No, don’t do that. It is a sin. And besides, you would look ridiculous.” She squeezed his arm. “But at the graveside now, when I was saying goodbye to Manny, I had this strange feeling. It was as if I were the damsel in some old story, about to be eaten by a vampire or a sea monster or something, and that you saved my life. As if you had helped Manfred win for me something very precious, something I had not known I’d lost.”

Hal was bewildered. “What does that mean?”

“I mean, I felt grateful. While you never saved me from a monster, you did save me from my old life. It was just a little thing. A day on the golf course. But I decided to stop being an actress in my own life, to stop putting on airs and putting on acts. I want to be an honest woman. And who convinced me to do it? You did.”

“I was not trying to.”

“It is like a dance. If you try too hard, if you look at your feet, you stumble. So you look at your partner. You let him lead.”

He shook his head, too choked by guilt to speak a word. But then the feeling that Manfred was standing behind him, just behind him, was so strong he stopped walking, and dropped the girl’s hand and turned.

The night was darker now, and the pale stones of the graveyard seemed to float in the night. The cross above the grave of Manfred seemed like a somber face with level eyes, and a crease of a frown. It looked like Manfred’s own expression. It seemed to be speaking to him, and offering a blessing.
You will love her and she will love you
.

All at once, Hal realized with undeniable clarity that Manfred and Laurel would have eventually come to hate each other, had he lived. Manfred, in a very real sense, had sacrificed his life to save his wife.

She stepped closer and looked up at his face, to see his expression in the starlight. “What are you thinking?”

“I just had a strange thought. What if the dead are still among us? What if they watch over how we live, and know what we make of the gifts they give us, and see what we make of the world they left to us?”

For it seemed to him then that Manfred did not want his young bride to live in friendless solitude all her life. Time would pass and life would continue. For now, Hal could be a friend and a stout support to Laurel in her grief, and help her however he could. Perhaps in a year and a day, perhaps longer, Hal could speak his feelings.

The girl took his arm in both her hands, and pressed her cheek against his shoulder. He put his arm around her. She walked with the grace of a dancer on a darkened stage, with no need to see her feet, and he marched like a soldier in a night march, who need not know his captain’s hidden plans to love and trust and follow him. All the questions in his heart were calm.

Together, they walked down a dark path toward a strange house, not knowing what fate held, but, perhaps, beginning to know what was held in each other’s hearts.

SCIENCE FICTION

Awake in the Night
by John C. Wright

Awake in the Night Land
by John C. Wright

City Beyond Time: Tales of the Fall of Metachronopolis
by John C. Wright

Somewhither
by John C. Wright

Back From the Dead
by Rolf Nelson

Big Boys Don't Cry
by Tom Kratman

Hyperspace Demons
by Jonathan Moeller

On a Starry Night
by Tedd Roberts

Do Buddhas Dream of Enlightened Sheep
by Josh M. Young

QUANTUM MORTIS A Man Disrupted
by Steve Rzasa and Vox Day

QUANTUM MORTIS Gravity Kills
by Steve Rzasa and Vox Day

QUANTUM MORTIS A Mind Programmed
by Jeff Sutton, Jean Sutton, and Vox Day

Victoria: A Novel of Fourth Generation War
by Thomas Hobbes

FANTASY

One Bright Star to Guide Them
by John C. Wright

The Book of Feasts & Seasons
by John C. Wright

Iron Chamber of Memory
by John C. Wright

A Magic Broken
by Vox Day

A Throne of Bones
by Vox Day

The Wardog's Coin
by Vox Day

The Last Witchking
by Vox Day

Summa Elvetica: A Casuistry of the Elvish Controversy
by Vox Day

The Altar of Hate
by Vox Day

The War in Heaven
by Theodore Beale

The World in Shadow
by Theodore Beale

The Wrath of Angels
by Theodore Beale

MILITARY SCIENCE FICTION

There Will Be War Vol. I
ed. Jerry Pournelle

There Will Be War Vol. II
ed. Jerry Pournelle

There Will Be War Vol. III
ed. Jerry Pournelle

There Will Be War Vol. IV
ed. Jerry Pournelle

There Will Be War Vol. IX
ed. Jerry Pournelle

There Will Be War Vol. X
ed. Jerry Pournelle

Riding the Red Horse Vol. 1
ed. Tom Kratman and Vox Day

Riding the Red Horse Vol. 2
ed. Tom Kratman and Vox Day

NON-FICTION

4th Generation Warfare Handbook
by William S. Lind and LtCol Gregory A. Thiele, USMC

A History of Strategy: From Sun Tzu to William S. Lind
by Martin van Creveld

Equality: The Impossible Quest
by Martin van Creveld

Four Generations of Modern War
by William S. Lind

On War: The Collected Columns of William S. Lind 2003-2009
by William S. Lind

Transhuman and Subhuman: Essays on Science Fiction and Awful Truth
by John C. Wright

Astronomy and Astrophysics
by Dr. Sarah Salviander

Compost Everything: The Good Guide to Extreme Composting
by David the Good

Grow or Die: The Good Guide to Survival Gardening
by David the Good

SJWs Always Lie: Taking Down the Thought Police
by Vox Day

Cuckservative: How “Conservatives” Betrayed America
by John Red Eagle and Vox Day

On the Existence of Gods
by Dominic Saltarelli and Vox Day

CASTALIA CLASSICS

The Programmed Man
by Jean and Jeff Sutton

Apollo at Go
by Jeff Sutton

First on the Moon
by Jeff Sutton

AUDIOBOOKS

A Magic Broken
, narrated by Nick Afka Thomas

Four Generations of Modern War
, narrated by William S. Lind

A History of Strategy
, narrated by Jon Mollison

Grow or Die
, narrated by David the Good

Extreme Composting
, narrated by David the Good

Cuckservative
, narrated by Thomas Landon

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