Whispering Blade Chapter 11

#11#

Memory is a dream of the past, all blurred edges and yawning voids between moments of clarity. We think we remember what occurred, but it's an illusion, sense made from a series of events that may or may not have happened in the way they play out before the mind's eye. Ask three people about an important experience they lived together and you will get three different stories. Even if they remember the incident in the same way, each emphasizes different details and interpretations. Ask them again in three years and you will get yet another set of stories because the people telling the tale have changed and that has transformed how they see the memories that shaped them.

Take Devin. I have four distinct and largely incompatible sets of memories of our time together as children. As an adult before the fall of the temple I remembered him through the eyes of a best friend. The faults I see now were there then, but they seemed minor, excusable at best, annoying at worst. After the fall when I believed him dead, they became…not endearing, but I cherished the boy that was. Once I discovered he was alive and part of the cabal that betrayed the temple and my goddess to death and destruction, I found all the signs of a fatal weakness of character that I should have seen much sooner. Now? Now I am by turns horrified, ambivalent, revolted, and…never forgiving, but, perhaps, pitying.

The Devin of the past is what he has always been: a series of actions fixed in time, but I have changed, and in changing, my memories have transformed themselves so many times that they become slippery and difficult to pin down. Did he really say this or that? What was the tone of his voice? The turn of his expression? Was that a moment of weakness? Or duplicity? And, always, always, always, I come back to the question: have I let my memories make me complicit in his crimes? By letting him live, have I betrayed the justice owed to those he betrayed? Have I let myself become like him because I see and remember the boy when I face the man? Would I already have killed him if we had not grown up together?

Such were my thoughts as I blinked the sleep from my eyes when Triss woke me and told me Devin was waiting outside the door to our room. Sometimes I believe that I have decided not to kill him. Sometimes I believe that I have decided only to wait until our bargain is fulfilled. But in truth, every time that I see him, I have to make the decision whether or not to kill him anew. It is not a comfortable feeling. I sighed then as I looked at the swords lying beside me on the mattress. Not now. Not yet. Not today. "Come."

A voice answered from the other side of the door. "There's no handle this morning."

I rose and pulled on a pair of increasingly ragged gray pants and my sword rig and padded to the door. I noticed then what I had not the night before. While they were patterned and colored like oak, the "planks" were actually slabs of some blond stone and the handle was likewise of stone, though it looked like wrought iron at first glance, and there was no actual mechanism to the latch. But when I pushed on the thumb tab it moved as smoothly as well-oiled steel and the door swung easily on hinges that likewise existed only in facsimile. As it opened I saw a matching handle extrude itself on the outer side.

I pushed past Devin into the hallway. The door directly across from mine—Devin's—had a handle, as did Faran's. Gerda's did not. Also, there were several more doors in the considerably lengthened hallway. One stood half open. Beyond was a large pool filled with steaming water. "That's disconcerting. But also inviting—I stink."

Devin just shrugged. "I need to talk to you."

"Fine. But you'll have to do it while I soak."

Several minutes later I leaned back in the pool with my head resting in a slight declivity. There was a washing station as well as the deeper pool and Devin had been smart enough not to try to tell me anything as I soaped up, rinsed off, and did what I could for rendering my pants less disreputable before settling into the soaking bath. "Speak."

He pointed to where my naked swords lay close at hand—the sheathes I had left hanging on the door to keep them dry. "Udar says he can see through the swords."

"Your point?"

"Do you think it's true?"

"I have no reason to doubt him."

"It's true." Udar's voice came from the nearer of my blades and Devin very nearly jumped out of his skin.

He turned his attention to the swords. "Then, you know where my swords are."

There was a brief pause. "I didn't, but I do now, yes."

Devin looked nonplussed. "I don't understand. I thought you could see through the swords?"

"I can, but it does take some effort of will. Until this moment, I didn't care enough about you to bother."

If the slight had any impact on Devin he didn't show it. "So, will you tell me what you can see from my swords? What does the vault they're in look like?"

"Vault?" asked Udar.

"Yeah, the Son of Heaven put a bunch of the swords of the goddess in his vaults, including mine. If I know what else is in there, maybe I can figure out which one. That would save us a lot of time when we go after them in Heaven's Reach."

"Your swords aren't in any vault. They're in a pack on the back of a mule on a trail a few score miles from the three corners stone that marks the border between Radewald, Dan Eyre, and the Kvanas."

I sat bolt upright in the bath at the same time Devin shouted. "What!?"

"They're where?" I asked, more calmly.

"Three corners?" whispered Devin. "How…why are they…on a pack mule, you say?"

"That I don't know. I haven't been watching the world through any of the sets there."

Devin opened his mouth but I waved him to silence. "If you've been watching me, you know I…that we are on our way to retrieve his swords. I had hoped we would be able to fetch back all of the blades lost in the fall of the temple when we found Devin's. That greater mission is one of the reasons I was willing to help him despite everything. I want the swords back with my order where they belong, every last one. When I thought they were in Heaven's Reach that sounded like a hell of a lift, but if they're no longer sitting under the temple city, that changes everything. How many swords are with Devin's? I know the Son of Heaven had something like two hundred of them set on great wooden wheels as trophies."

There was another pause, much longer this time. "There are sixty-six swords in the caravan with Devin's. Another hundred and fifty are in the vaults of Heaven's Reach, mounted on three rings sawn from a huge old ebony. One hundred and ninety lie in the caverns of Namara's isle. Thirty-eight are carried by Blades living on that same island. Four are here with us. The two that were reforged into one for Nuriko Shadowfox lie in darkness beyond my reach. The others are…scattered. I can pinpoint them for you if you like, but it will take some time."

"I would very much like that, if you're willing. Ideally later, with a map at hand so I can mark them down for eventual retrieval. For the moment, those three score and six on the move hold a great deal more interest for me. That's a much more accessible target than the others."

"How soon can we go after them?" Faran sounded eager as a hunting hawk as she stepped out of the deeper shadows beside the door.

I suppressed the urge to startle or comment; it would only encourage her, and she already took too much pleasure in that particular game. Instead, I raised an eyebrow and spoke mildly. "I thought you didn't want to help Devin."

"I couldn't give a flying fuck about Devin or his problems, but there are sixty-four other perfectly good reasons for getting this thing done. Besides that, the idea of Heaven's Reach letting those blades go makes me very nervous. They're priceless and releasing so much as bronze kip's worth of value from their direct control is very, very out of character for the church hierarchy. I can't imagine they're up to any good."

I nodded. "I can't argue with that sentiment. Udar, I'm very sorry, but I think we're going to have cut our visit here shorter than I'd hoped. Those swords are moving away from us, and every second we wait to go after them adds more distance we'll have to make up to catch them. We should probably leave today. Tomorrow at the latest." I didn't add "If we're free to go, that is," but I certainly held my breath as I waited for his response.

"I think we can arrange that, and even speed you along as far as the edge of my realm, though there are a few things more we need to settle before I send you on your way. When you're done bathing, take the stairs up to my workshop and we can have breakfast while we talk."

I turned my gaze on Faran. "Why don't you go on ahead."

She gave a rueful laugh. "Well, as of about a quarter hour ago, the stairs didn't lead to anything like a workshop. They simply led back up to the living space, and neither Vak nor Udar were there, though there's certainly room for another floor given the length of the stairs."

"Sorry about that," Udar said through the sword. "I rearrange things within the mountain as needed to suit me from day to day. If you come up now, you will find the way is open."

"Then I'll check in on Gerda and see you in a few." Faran gave me something halfway between a wave and a salute and headed for the door.

I nodded at her retreating back. "I won't be long. Now, Devin, was there anything else you needed from me? If there isn't, I want you to go away and give me a little space in which to think."

Rather wisely, Devin said nothing, merely bowing himself out.

All right, Triss, you're up.

What do you mean?

I can feel you hovering there anxiously at the back of my mind like you do when you're worried I'm going to start drinking again.

There was a rather long pause before he answered. I'm not doing anything of the kind. Really.

Oh. I…never mind. I stopped myself then, knowing Vak could listen in on at least some of our conversation if he was close by. Perhaps his was the presence I was feeling. Or, if it was Thiussus, I didn't want to give any more away on that subject than I absolutely had to. On the off chance Vak and Udar hadn't been listening in when I told Faran and the others about my connection to the mad shade I would prefer to keep that particular trick tucked up my sleeve for later use as necessary.

I tried to relax and soak for a while then, but if there was ever any hope of me having a peaceful morning I had lost it the moment I got out of bed and let Devin into my day. Rather sadly—it really was a magnificent bathing pool—I rose and dried off, putting my damp pants back on along with my sword rig.

I returned to my room to finish dressing, but when I picked up my shirt the stink was too much for me. The socks were worse and my boots looked like they'd been through exactly what they had been through: immersion, drying too close to the fire, miles of slogging through snow, and being tossed still damp into a corner on top of all the damage they'd picked up going over the mountains. I should have brought it all into the bath with me. But that time-honored traveler's trick might have simply resulted in everything falling apart, given the present state of wear. It certainly hadn't done much for the long-term prospects of my pants.

Vak? I sent into the ether.

Yes?

What are the chances you can supply me with fresh clothing? All of us, really. I doubt anyone else's gear is in much better shape than mine.

Something can probably be arranged given time. But come, we are waiting for you and there is much yet to do.

All right, but you'll have to excuse my present state of undress. I am not putting that shirt on again short of some serious soaking.

I felt a sense of amusement at that. Have no worries. It may even facilitate things.

I wasn't at all sure I liked that thought. How so?

You'll see. Just come on up.

If you insist. I started through the door. Oh, and you're echoing again.

Am I? I can't hear it this way. Not at all. Hmm. Let me think on it and see if I can find a way to fix it.

I tried to suppress my worries as I padded barefoot up the stairs. This time, after spiraling twice around, the walls opened up into a circular room with bookshelves lining the outer wall and several larger tables and desks scattered here and there. One long bench was covered with a complex arrangement of glassware including at least two alembics and several spiraling tubes of a sort I'd only ever seen at the temple's apothecary studio where poisons were brewed. Another held several sets of scales and a variety of complex brass apparatuses unlike anything I'd ever encountered.

Faran and the others were clustered around a table on which a couple of crocks of sausages and the contents of a small clay oven figured rather strongly in my first impressions, as I discovered I was quite hungry. The door of the oven stood open, exposing a pile of biscuits and a large stack of some variation on griddle cakes. Scattered across the table were several kinds of jam, a vat of porridge, and a large glass samovar of tea. If anyone noticed my failure to dress for breakfast, they didn't comment, but then neither Faran nor Gerda had on shoes, and, honestly, Devin's tattered shirt was hardly less disreputable than my bare chest.

Vak arrived, padding in as we were finishing up. And it was only as he made his way over from the stairs that it occurred to me that his paws made no sound as they touched the raw stone of the floor—his stone paws. Not even the faint clicking a flesh-and-blood dog usually made as their claws tap, tap, tapped away.

"Good morning," said the wolf.

"Is it?" asked Gerda. "Morning, that is? I know it was night when we arrived, but with no windows I was wondering how long I slept."

The wolf's tongue lolled in a grin. "It is two hours past dawn on the second day since you all arrived, or about twenty-five hours after you sought your beds last night. Most of you slept nearly a day and a night, though Master Faran was up for perhaps two hours just after noon yesterday when she made her quiet rounds through the shadows."

Faran inclined her head ever so slightly. "I hadn't realized I was observed."

Vak laughed and tossed his head in a rough circle. "This—all of this—is me. Here you are not slipping quietly through some castle or manor house, you are moving about within my body. I could no more lose track of you here than I could a spider on my nose."

"And when I stepped back and forth between this world and the Everdark?"

"That was…," the wolf paused for a long moment, "startling. I didn't realize I was ticklish, and discovering it at this late date was quite disconcerting." He turned my way now. "I have arranged for a couple of changes of clothing for each of you, though it will take some hours for it to get here and it's of very different make and style than what you arrived in."

"Thank you. That puts us in your debt."

Udar smiled and shook his head. "It's a poor host who won't do what they can to address their guests' most pressing needs."

I leaned back in my chair. "Which brings me somewhat reluctantly back to last night's question, why are we your guests? We didn't arrive on your doorstep by accident. You expended some considerable effort to bring us from where we washed up on the borders of your lands to this mountain, and it wasn't just for the company of people with similar views on the perfidies of Heaven. Not when you couldn't know for sure how we felt on the subject before our conversation."

"And that's all on top of whatever effort is involved in keeping an eye on us through these." I tapped a finger against the hilt of one sword. And, I didn't add, ignoring any possible involvement in our boating misadventure. What can I say? I have a suspicious nature. "So, what really brings us here? You said there was more to it that you might share on the morrow, and, I will note, the morrow has arrived."

Udar's smile didn't change by even the tiniest fraction. "And, I will note that I said 'might' share." He stopped speaking long enough for me to suspect that was as much as I was going to get, but then he laughed. "Don't ever take up gambling, you have a speaking face. Why are you here? So many reasons. Start with three. I was bored. I was lonely. I was intrigued. Add two more. You had come within easy reach for the first time since your temple fell and I began to care about your individual existence. You bear swords of great power—swords that I helped make—and I wondered if you were worthy of them. And then there's the matter of your skin."

"My skin?" I blinked at that.

Triss rose out of my shadow, exerting his presence for the first time since we began our breakfast. "He means the shadow brand, Aral."

"That yes, but also the one you wear when you change shape. You are a curiosity, Aral Kingslayer, and I wanted to take your measure, body and soul. Are you what you appear to be at the remove through which I have been watching you? Do you stand up to the ideals of your goddess? Are you worthy of carrying on her legacy? Are you even entirely human anymore? But, most of all: should I help you?"

"Your verdict?" I asked.

"Still out, though I have seen enough to decide I will not hinder you."

"What of the rest of us?" asked Faran. "You speak of measuring Aral, but haven't said anything about us."

"What of you? The traitor is irrelevant. So is the child, at least for now."

"And me?"

"You are Aral's shadow, even more so than Triss. Until and unless you choose to step into the light on your own, I cannot see what you are or imagine what you might become."

Faran inclined her head ever so slightly as if acknowledging a point in a fencing match, though she didn't look upset. "Fair enough."

"For now," said Udar.

"That too," agreed Faran.

"Which bring us back to you, and to that." He pointed at the shadow of a dragon etched into my skin. "If you're willing, I'd like to take a run at figuring out what, exactly, that is and how it works."

"As long as you're willing to share anything you find, I'm game. Figuring this thing out was next on my list after sorting out the matter of Devin's swords. How do we begin?"

Devin interrupted at that point. "While I'm sure Faran is going to be endlessly fascinated by the combination of weird magical effects and anything at all to do with Aral, I'm not a huge devotee of esoterica or…well, you. I spent enough time in conversations centered around you while I was back at the temple to last several lifetimes. So, if no one objects, I think that I shall take my turn in that bath." Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and headed for the stairs.

Vak turned his attention to Gerda. "What about you, child? I suspect this will be less than exciting."

"Have you a sauna? And another bath? I would very much like to clean up myself. After that, I would like to watch…if that's all right."

The wolf nodded. "Certainly. I'll take you." Then, he set all four feet, took a deep breath and…split, becoming two wolves. I had the impression that he had drawn the substance for the second body up through his paws from the floor below, but that was more a matter of feeling than observation. "Follow me."

As they walked away, the remaining wolf turned a knowing eye my way. "Avatars. Sometimes it simplifies things to create more than one at a time, and there's plenty of material to work with. Not that any physical shape is ever all of me."

I just nodded. I'd seen Namara inhabit her temple sculptures often enough. "You were about to tell me what happens next…"

"This." Vak moved in close and reared back on his hind feet before first smelling and then, very gently, licking the impossibly black dragon's head etched into the skin of my chest. The stone of his tongue was slick and warm, but distinctly a thing of stone. "Interesting."

"What?" I asked.

"That is both here and not here, and you without being you."

Which was not the answer I was expecting. "I don't understand."

Vak smiled. "Neither do I. This is going to be interesting. Triss, would you extend yourself into this realm? Solidity is what I'm looking for."

"…all right." He stuck his forepaw out and very gently drew his claws along the floor, which made a rasping noise.

Vak leaned forward, repeating his smell and tasting bit with Triss's paw. "You, on the other hand, are entirely you, and, when you exert yourself, entirely here. There is some faint hint of kinship between your substance and this aftermath of you being imprinted on Aral's skin by that explosion, but far less than I would have expected. Fascinating. Udar, thoughts?"

"Aral, would you be willing to let me take a couple little scrapings of your skin?"

"Sure. I presume you mean with and without this?" I touched a fingertip to the darkness etched into the flesh of my left forearm.

"Exactly that. Come with me." He led me over to the table with all the scales and brass-work and pulled out a couple of tiny dishes and an obsidian knife. "Sharper than steel, though the edge needs frequent reknapping to stay that way. Sit here and put your arm out on the table." He indicated a tall stool.

I extended my arm. Udar leaned forward and took a sample from my bare skin followed by one from the shadowed area. "What the…" He shook his head. "That can't be right. I'm going to try the second one again." And… "Can somebody else take a look at this?"

I leaned down at the same time Faran stepped in close. "Weird," she said, and I had to agree. There was no difference between the two samples. Both looked like plain regular skin, with no hint of shadow.

Udar shook his head. "Let me try something else." Closing his eyes he ran his fingertips back and forth along the skin of my arm, and then repeated the process on my chest. "I don't get it. I can feel the difference. There's a distinct, if very slight, depression in your skin where the shadow lies. Also, it's cooler to the touch. I'm not imagining that, am I?"

Faran ran her hand along my arm and then shook her head. "Nope. It definitely feels different."

I didn't say anything, but I could have told them as much without all the fuss. I'd spent enough time running my own fingers back and forth along the boundary to know that.

Triss rose into the air. "It has always tasted different to my shadow senses as well, but I cannot feel the depression in the skin that you're talking about when I manifest physically."

I was startled by that. "You never mentioned it before."

He flicked his wings back and forth. "I didn't realize you perceived it differently."

"That's not what I expected at all. Hmm." Udar sat down on one of the high stools that were scattered here and there amongst the work benches. "I need to ponder a moment."

Remembering our experiences in the Everdark when we went after Faran, I held up a hand. "Let me give you one more oddity to think on." Taking a knife from my sword rig, I made a quick shallow slice on my forearm, making sure to get both shadowed and unshadowed flesh. Blood welled up along the full length of the cut. "And, Triss…"

He nodded, and then extended a claw and made a second parallel slice. Where his claw cut bare skin, blood answered. Where it broke through shadow, the black ichor of the Everdark welled up.

Udar's eyes widened. "That's…" He shook his head. "I don't even know what to say about that. Vak?"

The wolf rose up and put his paws up on my thigh before putting his face down very close to the cuts and turning his head back and forth to get a good look out of each eye. "Do you mind if I taste that?"

I paused for a moment, thinking through the sympathetic magical connotations, then shrugged. "In for a kip, in for a riel, I guess. Go ahead."

The wolf extended his tongue more cautiously this time, touching only the very tip to the line of the wound. When he hit the ichor, he yanked his head back sharply, paused, then ever so slowly moved forward again. Once he was done, he sat back on haunches and tilted his head repeatedly from side to side—looking for all the world like some rich wine merchant trying out a new vintage.

"Well?" I asked.

"There is still much to think on, but I can say one thing with absolute certainty."

When he didn't immediately continue, I made a "come at me" gesture. "Just give it to me straight, I can take a hit with the best of them."

He nodded. "All right. The ichor tastes of your blood and vice versa. They are definitely both coming from your veins and they are both admixed to some degree within you."

"Which means what?"

"That you have become something other than human."