The Pleasure of Memory (41 page)

For reasons she couldn’t explain, she felt a sudden rush of worry. “Well…go ahead, then.”

He picked nervously at the cricket grass. He was normally the most relaxed member of the company, a man who was unfettered in the most extreme situations. He was a paragon of strength to everyone around him. Whatever he was about to say, it wasn’t going to be pleasant.

“Maw, you look like you’re about to start bawling. What’s bothering you?”

Mawby tapped his pipe against the thick root running before him. The red embers scattered into the grass and quickly died. “Have you seen Maeryc in the last half hour?” he asked as he fiddled with his pipe.

“Maeryc? He’s probably getting ready to move out.” She leaned around to her right and peered past him back toward the camp. The warriors stood around in clusters talking, their gear packed and gathered at their feet. They were looking her way. She didn’t see her brother.

“You’re looking in the wrong direction,” Mawby said.

She looked back at Mawby. “What?”

Her eyes tracked the direction indicated by the pointing finger. A hundred yards off in the opposite direction of the camp, across a wide field, was a gigantic twin of her own fough tree. A warrior with short-cropped white hair knelt beneath it with his back to them. It was a long way off, but she knew it couldn’t be anyone else but Maeryc.

“I don’t get it,” she said as she watched him, “He’s away from the company. So am I. So what?”

“Keep looking.”

She wondered if Maw was overly tired, maybe having a bit of fatigue confusion. “All right, I’m looking. Is that a creek he’s kneeling in front of?”

“He’s talking to himself.”

“Talking to himself? He’s probably meditat—”

Maeryc suddenly threw his arms out to his sides and gestured strangely. Then he stopped and glanced about himself before returning his attention to the creek. It was a most odd sight.

“What in the Nine is he doing?” she asked.

“I’ve noticed it for a few days now,” Mawby said too carefully, “Only it’s gotten a bit worse since the demon was in camp yesterday. Or possibly just more obvious.”

She looked over at him. This time, his brilliant blue eyes stayed with her. “What are you talking about, Maw?”

“He’s been drifting away from the company during the march, especially when there’s water nearby. Yesterday he just turned and broke ranks, marching off into the forest. I caught up with him and asked him what he was doing. He said he was scouting, but…”

“But what?”

Mawby stared back at her, but didn’t say anything.

“But what?” she pushed.

“He’s been talking to himself.”

“You said that already. Everyone talks to themselves. We’ve been under a lot of pressure these...”

The burly Vaemyn shook his head. The act seemed so strangely profound that she forgot what she was saying. She turned back toward her brother.

“It’s the water, Koo,” Mawby said softly, “He only does it when he’s near water.”

His voice was miles too gentle. He was trying to protect her from something. “For the love of Calina,” she said, “If you don’t get to the point, I’m going to kick you in the ass and move the company out. Now what’s got you so worked up?”

Mawby stared past her. He was watching Maeryc and fidgeting with his pipe.

“Mawby!”

He flinched at that. He looked at her again. “Maeryc’s been like a brother to me,” he said too carefully, “The three of us grew up together, you, me, and him. Never seen him break from a march before. You know him, there’s no one more disciplined. No one can outmarch him without a rest.”

“Will you get to the point?”

“It’s just that…well, he’s never acted like this before. Restless, breaking ranks without explanation, disappearing for an hour at a time. And the water—”

“The damned water again. What about the water?”

His large eyes were everywhere but on hers. She could see he was struggling, that he had something important to say, but now she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it.

“Go on,” she forced herself to say, “What about the water?”

His eyes again drifted toward Maeryc. “The water’s how they communicate.”

His voice was so low she barely heard the words. “How they communicate?” she pressed, “How who communicates?”

“It’s how the demons communicate with…with their hacks.”

The ground dropped out beneath her. She dug her fingers into the bark to steady herself. For a second, she couldn’t get her breath. Then she looked at him and said, “Hacks?” She spit the word out, not wanting it in her mouth any longer than necessary. “Did you really just say that?”

“I did.”

“You’re calling my brother a hack? Because he’s been talking to himself? A hack?”

“I’m sorry, Koo. I love him like a brother. You know I do. It’s not—”

“Shut up, Mawby! Just shut the hell up.” The fury swelled up so suddenly that she was actually trembling. A hack? It was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard.

Mawby shrank before her eyes. His gaze was fixed on the thick, serpentine root burrowing into the earth between them. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, “I—”

“Don’t say anything! Not another goddamned word.”

She stared at him long and hard. She felt betrayed, violated. Hack was the slang term for the demons’ lackeys, for their grubs, their slaves. Hacks were little more than possessed corpses, something one step up from a zombie. She glanced over at Maeryc, who was walking toward them now. He was still gesturing oddly, though with less drama.

She turned back to Mawby. “Is this a joke?” she asked seriously.

Mawby didn’t reply. He didn’t even look up.

The words hanged in the air between them. The entire affair seemed unreal and dreamlike. She knew it must’ve taken a mountain of courage to say what he’d said to her. Especially in times like this when trust came at a premium. They were all exhausted, seeing enemies where there were only shadows. And yet…it was the worst insult one warrior could level at another.

“I’m going to forget you said that,” she said, finally, struggling to keep her voice steady, “I’m going to write it off as field fatigue. We’re all tired. It’d be easy to see changes in each other and suspect the worst. The last thing we need is to turn on each other.”

Though his eyes were red and wet, Mawby didn’t retreat. “Maeryc’s my closest friend after you. He’s my family. You have to know I’d never come to you with—”

She threw up a halting hand. “Stop! Please, Maw. Just stop.”

His eyes dropped back to the grass.

She glanced quickly around to ascertain they were alone, then leaned toward him and whispered, “Mawby, you know I disapprove of your service to Lamys te’Faht. I tolerate it only because…because I love you like family. And because I know Pa’ana would want...”

The words froze her up. The damned pain threatened to push its way up from the forbidden box again, but she simply wouldn’t have it. Not now.

She braced herself and pushed on. “Pa’ana supported your role,” she forced herself to say, “He supported it despite my profound objections. It’s never been my place to judge how a Vaemyn perceives loyalty or what shadow guilds they belong to, but—”

“Pa’ana would want you to listen to me.”

She threw her anger at him. “Don’t you presume to tell me what Pa’ana would want of me!”

Mawby flew to his feet. “He was my brother, damn you!” Then he jabbed a finger out toward Maeryc, saying, “And he’s your brother. If you love him, you’ll watch him closely. He’s worn Prae’s amulet for months now.”

Koonta stood up before him. “So does half the Vaemysh army. What of it?”

“Remember your history. Remember Fren’ba Shen.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. It’s never been proven. It’s myth.”

“Is it?”

Koonta’ar turned back toward the creek. Maeryc was still walking toward them. With the sun full on him now, he appeared weak and troubled. He’d lost too much weight on this march. He seemed to be fading away like a spring snow. Her mind skipped back to the night before, to their encounter at the hatch. A chill gripped her, and she crossed her arms against it.

“My gods,” she whispered.

“What is it?”

“Last night. At the hatch. I found him—”

“I know. I followed you from the camp. I was watching from the shadows.”

She glared up at him. “You were spying on me?”

“No. I was watching out for you.”

“Do I look like I need a bodyguard, Maw?”

“I don’t know.” He looked over at Maeryc. “Maybe.”

“Bullshit!” she said, “He was tired. He slipped up, that’s all.”

“No,” Mawby said firmly, “You know it’s more than that. He disobeyed orders. He jeopardized the mission. He was sitting with his back to the hatch talking to the water. It’s not like Maeryc. It’s not like anything Maeryc would ever do.”

“So he was talking to himself,” she said, “Just because he was sitting by that damned pond—”

“It’s only when he’s near water, Koonta. That’s the only time it happens. It’s how they communicate. And look at him. He’s fading away.”

“He’s tired, Mawby. Give him some slack.”

“We’re all tired. But none of us looks so...”

“None of us look so what?” she said, louder than she’d intended, “Just say it, goddamn it. You’ve dug yourself in this deep. You might as well finish it.”

“Consumed,” Mawby said back, “All right? None of us looks so consumed. There’s more to him than simple fatigue, you know it as well as I do. You saw it last night. You know he’s not right. This is a version of Maeryc you’d never see if he didn’t have that goddamned amulet pierced through his horn. I don’t give a good goddamn how tired he gets, he’d never act this way otherwise.”

Koonta’ar felt sick to her stomach. Mawby was right, and she hated him for making her see it. She hated herself more for admitting it.

“Maybe…maybe he’s sick,” she whispered. It was a desperate move and she knew it.

“Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe it’s worse than mortal sickness. Can we take the chance?”

“And what if he is communicating with them?” she said, “The wyrlaerds are our allies. What if they do keep themselves posted on our progress, is that so bad?” Even as she spoke the words, she knew they lacked faith, and she knew he could see it. Mawby was an Eye of the Faithful. He was trained to watch for signs of demonic treachery. He’d see right through her words and there was nothing she could do about it.

“You don’t believe that,” he said. He sounded calmer now. “And even if you toe that line of rhetoric, I know you disapprove of the command spying on field troops. It shows a disappointing lack of faith, to quote a dear friend of mine.”

They were her words, and it pissed her off that he used them against her. “Stand down, Mawby. Stop playing me.”

“Then listen to me. Know that I’m not inclined toward suspicion or mistrust. Know that I love Maeryc. Know that it took everything I had to admit the possibility to myself, let alone to broach it with you.”

She brought a palm to her face and rubbed a tired eye against it. “What’re we coming to that we have to suspect each other?”

He squeezed her shoulder, but said nothing. She knew he didn’t have to. The shock had passed, but the anger was still rumbling. She knew what she had to do, and she was ashamed of herself for it.

“All right,” she barely said, “Keep posting him. Don’t let him slip off without eyes.”

“Agreed.”

She slapped his hand off her shoulder and threw a finger into his face. “But goddamn you, Mawby. If you’re wrong about this, we’re going head to head, I swear to Calina!”

“Fair enough.” He lifted the pipe stem toward his mouth, but stopped an inch short. “And, if I’m not wrong?” he asked coolly, “What then?”

“Don’t go there,” she whispered, “Don’t you dare go there. Not now. There’s nothing wrong until you prove it otherwise.”

Despite standing over a foot taller, the man shrank before her. Koonta’ar had no fear of him or any other warrior in the company. She knew her strength didn’t just come from her exceptional skills at hand-to-hand combat; it came from something much deeper. She had a resolve that was intimidating, and she knew he knew that.

Mawby’s mouth finally found the pipe stem. He clenched it between his teeth. “I understand,” he said, “But you should know that—”

She threw him another warning look. “Be very careful, Mawby.”

He pulled the pipe back out. “Pa’ana was murdered in front of me. You know that. He was as good as murdered by that goddamned demon.”

“It was an accident,” she said, “Gods above! I don’t have the strength to go there again, Maw.”

“It was no accident. Damn you to the Wyr, it was no goddamned accident!”

Koonta’ar flinched at that. She was surprised by the strength of his anger.

“I saw it.” He whispered the words as carefully as if they could harm her. “Pa’ana knew the possession was taking him, and he couldn’t fight it, so he…” He stopped. His face was raw. He quickly rubbed the grief from his eye. Then he seemed to find his resolve again and focused it on her. “I’m telling you straight out, Kadeer Koonta’ar. As I live and breathe, I won’t let that happen to Maeryc. So you can either work with me or against me, but I will do whatever’s necessary to prevent him following Pa’ana’s fate. With or without you.”