The Pleasure of Memory (42 page)

“I’m your commanding officer!” she snapped back, “You’ll damned well do as I say or I’ll have you busted down to grunt.”

“I don’t care squat about that, and you know it. You’ll have to kill me to stop me from doing whatever’s necessary to save Maeryc.” Then he rose to his full height and he said, “Or to release him, if need be.”

“Release him?”

“You know what I mean. If he’s truly a hack, there’s no way to recover him. He can only be released.”

She felt like she was going to vomit. She hadn’t missed his meaning at all, not by miles. She glanced back at the camp. The warriors were all still looking at her, and as she watched them watching her, she understood. Mawby spoke for all of them.

“They want him restrained,” she whispered, still looking at them.

Mawby released a deep breath, and said, “Ay’a.”

“No. They’re not to restrain him. You’ll need more proof than a tired warrior talking to himself, water or no. For now, keep eyes on him. And keep me posted.”

“We may have that proof sooner than you think, Koo.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”

“Tomorrow we enter the swamp.”

“So?”

“We’ll be wading through water for at least a day. He won’t be able to avoid the demon’s contact.”

Koonta didn’t know what to say. Maybe there wasn’t anything to say. She turned back toward her brother. She wanted to speak to him, but knew she’d never have the strength. What if Mawby was right? What if her own traitorous suspicions were right?

Instead, she simply looked away. She couldn’t bear to face him anymore. Looking at him made her feel like something was trying to slice its way out of her gut.

“You have your orders, Feyd’r,” she said as she began walking toward the camp, “Now, let’s move out.”

XX

THE TOMB

HE SILENCE WAS DEAFENING.

The only break in the overwhelming quiet was the soft crunch of sand beneath their feet and the occasional sizzle of cobwebs passing through their torches. Beam watched the torchlight flicker and dance along the rough tunnel walls as they walked. Another tower of sorry Baeldonian faces passed. They were beginning to feel like old friends.

“Well?” Chance asked.

The voice startled Beam. He looked over at the man. “Well what?”

“What was in the box?”

The puzzle casket. Of course. He’d fallen so deep into his thoughts, he’d forgotten they’d been talking. “A map,” he said, “It was a folded map. It was old and yellowed, brittle as hell. I could barely open it without tearing it.”

“A map?” Chance said eagerly, “Most interesting. What type of map? A map of what?”

‘Roads, buildings. I thought it was a city, but it wasn’t any place I recognized. The writing was Vaemysh, and that didn’t help. The map was drawn in a circular fashion so that no matter which way you turned it, the writing at the top of the map was always right side up. I couldn’t make sense of it. I couldn’t even identify which way was north.”

“Vaemysh maps are murder to read,” Chance said.

“Then,” Beam continued, “A few years ago in Boardtown, one of my lady friends found the map among my things.”

“Lady friends?” Chance said.

Beam didn’t appreciate the sarcasm in his voice. “Yes, Chance,” he said with equal derision, “Most of my friends have been ladies, if you must know. I’m inclined toward their species that way, and damn me, them toward me. It’s just one of the few gifts Calina actually saw fit to bestow upon me. The ladies can’t resist me.”

“I see,” Chance said.

The man didn’t sound convinced. Or maybe he just wasn’t interested.

“Moving along,” Beam said, though his enthusiasm for the story had suddenly ebbed, “One day Brilla was digging through an old chest of mine and found the map in—”

“Wait,” Chance said, waving his hand, “Brilla?”

Beam suffered a pang. He had the feeling he’d just made a big mistake. “Yeah,” he said, “Brilla. So?”

“Unless I’m mistaken, that’s a Faocenii name.”

“Yeah, again, so?”

“Your lady friend was a Faocenii? I pray you don’t mean what I think you mean.”

Beam winced. Yep, a real big mistake. “Don’t give me that look,” he said quickly, “She wasn’t my lover. And anyway, she wasn’t your usual Faocenii, either. She wasn’t even bad looking. And she was a hoot to be with. Had a great sense of humor. Anyway, it doesn’t bloody matter. You don’t get to judge me!”

“Seriously, a Faocenii?” Chance pressed, “With that gray, oily skin, and that pouch, and the extra pair of...I mean, was she the only woman in the region? Or perhaps you’re just not that fussy?”

Beam bit his lip.

Chance was fighting back a laugh. “Tell me you weren’t actually having—”

“Do I need this kind of abuse?” Beam demanded, “Especially from a man who probably hasn’t seen a woman naked since birth? I told you she was just a goddamned friend!”

Chance started laughing. “Apologies,” he said, “It’s just…well, bless me, but I may never get the image of you in bed with a Faocenii out of my head. Ten limbs flaying through all that grease? And that tentacle-like hair running all the way down her back? I mean—”

“I told you I didn’t do that with her!”

“I can only hope that’s true.”

Beam clenched his jaw. “Are you about done?” he said through his teeth.

“Oh, I won’t say another word,” Chance said, still struggling with his laughter, “In fact, I’m going to work the rest of my life to smother the mental image of you rolling through the straw with a naked Faocenii.”

“This is probably a good time for you to stop talking,” Beam said seriously. He cursed himself for ever having opened his mouth. He was an academic experiment in stupidity.

He walked for a bit in studied silence, waiting for the next laugh or comment or smart-ass remark. When none appeared forthcoming, he said, “I don’t remember where I was.”

“The map.”

“The map,” Beam repeated, “Right. Well, damn me if Brilla didn’t surprise me. Turns out, she was familiar with this type of Vaemysh map. More than that, she recognized the area. It was an old burial ground in the scrubs of southern Vaen.”

Chance snapped his fingers. “Why, of course,” he said, “I know this place. I’ve actually been there. It’s called gru’Felyum Thrael, the Cemetery of Remorse. It covers square miles. The Vaemyn have buried their disgraced dead there for nearly a thousand years. Only after they were forced to the southern reserves did they begin burying everyone there.”

“That’s what Brilla said. In fact, she didn’t want me to go. She was put off by the warnings posted at the entrances. Something about entering with a soul and leaving without one.”

“Vaemysh custom,” Chance said, “Curse everything and advertise it afterwards. But clearly such a warning served no deterrent, since here you are.”

“You’re damned right. What do I give a shimlin's damn about their taboos? It’s all superstitious bullshit as far as I’m concerned, the last refuge of the simple mind.”

“Of course,” Chance said, “You
are
a man of science, after all.”

Beam winced at that. He looked at the man, but was disappointed to find no evidence of a smile or smirk. Uncertain if he’d been insulted or praised, he decided to move on.

“What she said that I did take seriously,” Beam continued, “Was the warning that if any Vaemysh patrols discovered me they'd pretty much feed me my jewels. But if the map was right, that graveyard was out in the middle of the Scrubs of Despair. Closest Vaemysh settlements to there are deeper in the southern plains, a full two or three day’s ride.”

“She sounds like a reasonable sort,” Chance said, “Especially for a Faocenii.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. At least, until I realized there was more to it. She took the map seriously. So seriously, she wanted me to give it to her for
safekeeping
. She said it’d likely led to some cache of hidden gold or jewels, and that it’d probably be best if I let her take care of it for me, because of my drinking and generally irresponsible nature and all. And damn me if I didn’t actually consider her offer. Briefly, anyway. It was a Vaemysh boneyard, after all. What could the chances of finding anything of value be? But I guess the map had sentimental value now, coming from my mother and all. I just didn’t want to let it out of my sight, so I told her she couldn’t have it. Well, she didn’t much like that and got all pissy on me. She said I was just asking to be blistered over a Vaemysh torture fire. It was a couple days before she finally let it go. At least, I thought she’d let it go.

“One night, maybe a month or so later, while I was sleeping off a particularly bad drunk, she tried to take it from me.” He felt shame hugging him with her cold arms. How could he ever explain this?

“What is it?” Chance asked.

Beam hesitated. He wasn’t sure how to proceed. “I don’t know,” he said, “I reckon it didn’t go so well.”

“Didn’t go so well? What does that mean?”

“It means…” Gods, how could he share this?

“What? Tell me.”

Beam looked over at the newest stack of Baeldons glowering at him as they passed. He shook his head and threw his eyes to the path before them. “It means…it means I might’ve ended up killing her over it.”

“You
might
have?”

One look at the shock swelling in the man’s face, and Beam’s guilt heaved to the surface like a meal of spoiled milk. He was sick of his ghosts, and it seemed every conversation the damned monk dragged out of him just riled them up again. Even being down in these godsforsaken tunnels didn’t dissuade them. His ghosts were all in attendance now, Dael, Gerd, Brilla, and a dozen others, all there, all following him and whispering their curses.

“Beam, what happened?”

“Damn me, it was all so quick,” Beam said, trying to recover, “It was the middle of the night. It was dark, and I was three shades of drunk. I tried to stop a thief, the thief pulled a knife, I pulled a knife, and then there was blood. It was over in a heartbeat. When I finally got the lamp lit, there she was. Lying in a bloody pool in the middle of my room. Dead, with my knife in her neck.”

“Blood of the gods, you’ve got to have about the worst luck I’ve ever seen.”

There was nothing Beam could say to that. What did luck have to do with it? His life had been an endless parade of bad decisions. He could feel the cold shade of Brilla slip her arm around his.
You see, Be’ahm?
she whispered into his ear,
We’re all in agreement, my sweet boy.

Beam suffered a chill that nearly wrenched his spine. That memory was too wretched to bear.

“She was the closest thing to a true friend I've ever had,” he said carefully, “And yet she turned on me over a lousy map.”

He heard her laughing behind him. He glanced back into the tunnel, but found only darkness. Then he simply shook his head and fell back into the tedium of the walk.

“Turns out there aren’t any Faocenii I trust after all,” he whispered.

He walked on for a bit, trying to settle himself, trying to breathe again. There was a darkness following that particular shade, and not just the usual black cloud of remorse and anger. This one was shrouded in the guilty shadows of his vices and bad lifestyle and utter selfishness. If he just hadn’t been so drunk. If he’d just recognized her before...

“So, you obviously discarded her advice,” Chance said, “You made your way south, probably soon after that.”

“Yes,” Beam replied once he’d drawn enough air to speak, “Yeah, I did. Took me months to reach the scrubs. I had too many things working against me, not the least of which was avoiding Fark’s crew in the Nolands.”

“Fark?” Chance said like he was certain he hadn’t heard right, “The brothers Fark? Lucifeus and Malevolus Fark?”

“You know of them?”

“Know of them? I live in the forest, not under a damned rock. Of course, I know of the pirates. Everyone in and around the Nolands knows of the pirate captains. They’re legion.”

“Ex-pirates.”

“Ex?” Chance said with a laugh, “How does a pirate ever become an ex? They’re hooligans and cutthroats. They may have traded their ships for a landlocked fort, but they run the same business on land as they did on the Sea of Hope. I’m confident I’ll regret placing this question, but what exactly did you do that you had to avoid them? A cultured, educated, upstanding young gentleman such as yourself? Why, as Calina’s my witness, I would have speculated you’d fit right in with their crew.”

Beam bristled at that. “There’s no need to flatter me,” he said sharply.

Chance harrumphed.

“I was actually good friends with Lucifeus at one time,” Beam said, “Even sailed with him for a time, eleven or twelve years ago. But it seems I found myself in the unsavory position of owing him money.”