The Pleasure of Memory (26 page)

“Oh, well…that’s a completely different story,” Chance said, laughing, “You should have simply said so straight out of the gate.”

Beam threw him a scowl. “I wasn’t a troubler, so you can knock that idea out of your head right now. I lived there, I wasn’t...
kept
there.”

Chance just looked at him. He was clearly amused, but said nothing.

“You were telling me about the goddamned cattle blade,” Beam said harshly.

“Caeyllth. Blade.”

Beam winced. This was his punishment for having lost his temper. “
Cay-lith
Blade,” he repeated, carefully, “Of course. Thank you,
Chance
.”

“The blades originate from the time of the Divinic Wars, which, as I said, occurred at or about one thousand years ago.”

“Blather, prattle, and spew,” Beam said, shaking his head.

“I know, skeptic. But you asked and I’m telling.”

Beam’s irritation eased just a bit at the sight of a metal plate of food squatting on the table before him. He plucked a chunk of dried meat from the plate and popped it in his mouth as he watched Chance stand up and walk over to his bedding where the sword lay on display in his evacuated blankets. The man squatted before the sword with his back to him. He lifted the weapon to his lap and ran a finger across the engravings dancing along the end of the blade. Beam didn’t particularly like the man’s close proximity to his possessions, yet he made the effort to tolerate it. For now.

As Chance examined the blade, he said, “Their creation was the inspiration of a Parhronii caeyl mage, a mage described in the literature as the most adept who ever lived, a man whose prowess with caeyl magic was one of mythical proportions.”

Beam bit off another chunk of meat and pretended to listen.

“You see these entwined snakes embracing the hilt?” Chance said without looking back at him, “They symbolize the combined strength of mortals and the caeyl mages. Notice the Blood Caeyl here in the pommel. See how it’s carved in the shape of an eye? The heavy, sensuous lid conveys passion and devotion. It represents the eye of the goddess Calina.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen the sword, Brother. And the eye.
Especially
the eye. It’s all over the place in the savages’ boneyards.”

Chance lifted the sword and held it with the blade rising up before him. “I’m confident you’re mistaken,” he said as he again studied the writing on the steel, “The Eye of Calina is an image of reverence in both the Vaemysh and the Baeldonian cultures. It’d be considered sacrilegious to put it on a crypt.”

“Well, I guess you need to get out more. I’ve been there, and I’m telling you that eye is everywhere down there.” He was growing impatient with the familiarity the man was taking with his things.

“I imagine you’re quite the expert on Vaemysh customs,” Chance said as he leveled the blade out before him and examined its true lines, “What with your everlasting love for them and all.”

The sarcastic tone was about as much as Beam needed. He’d tolerated the man’s infringement just about long enough. “Look,” he said, “I’d be able to hear you better over here, if you get my meaning. You know, at the table and away from my things?”

Chance replaced the sword in the bedding, stood and walked back to the table. “I’m not going to steal your toys,” he said as he slipped back onto his stool.

Beam bit off another chunk of meat. “No,” he said as he chewed, “You definitely are not.”

“Should I continue?”

“Nothing would make me happier.”

“The Divinic Wars were instigated by another mage, a Fire Caeyl mage who lived by the name Ja’an. He rallied the Vaemysh nation to his side with promises of absolute power and untold prosperity. Through the energy of his Fire Caeyl, he eventually raised a horde of Divinic Demons to fight for him. Ultimately, he and his armies nearly destroyed every civilized nation in the region. Parhron, Pajestica, Na Ghun’ta, Smeck Major, all great cities, all decimated. Even Parhron City burned to the ground. Only Barcuun survived intact.”

“Well, no wonder. It’s built right into the mountains. It’s bloody well impenetrable.”

“The Vaemysh warriors fighting for Ja’an wore caeyl tokens just like this one.” Chance tossed something out onto the table.

The object clattered across the rough wood and rolled to a stop beside Beam’s plate. It was a small gem that appeared to be a black bloodstone. There was some kind of face carved in it. It looked like a skull. As he studied it, he bit into a piece of bread. He realized he was absolutely famished, which made this about the best breakfast he’d ever awoken to.

“Wherever these mortal warriors dropped in the field,” Chance continued, “Their shells were immediately possessed by one of Ja’an’s demons. His forces were nearly unstoppable.”

 “Should’ve just cut off their heads,” Beam said as he chewed.

“Excuse me?”

“Their heads,” Beam replied, “Should’ve cut them off. A headless corpse doesn’t do anyone any good, least of all itself.”

“Well, it’s such a shame you weren’t there to counsel them. I’m sure they could’ve used a man of such superb tactical brilliance.”

Beam stopped chewing. “Look, it’s not astronomy, Brother,” he said, swallowing, “It’s a simple matter of locomotion. Legs and arms need a head to drive them. No head, no fight.”

“Seems you were born a thousand years too late,” Chance said sarcastically.

“I’m just talking,” Beam shot back, “Anyway, you brought it up. Damn me if there’s no need to get all pissy about it.”

“Care to surmise where I discovered this token?” Chance asked.

“Do I look like I care?”

Chance studied him for a moment, then simply shook his head and turned away. He bent low behind his stool and hauled a good-sized leather backpack up onto the table. He began packing it with fat wine skins and leather-wrapped packages that Beam assumed were food.

Beam continued eating, but he watched the other’s activity curiously. He bit off another chunk of jerky. “So tell me, Brother. Where exactly do you get all these ‘legends’ you keep referring to anyway?”

“I’ve had much time to study,” Chance said.

“And you believe everything you hear?” Beam asked, grinning.

Chance sent him a look. “One kind of fool believes everything he hears and another kind believes none of it.”

Beam set his mug back on the table. He didn’t appreciate the obvious jab. “All right, I get it,” he said seriously, “You think I don’t understand, but I understand more than you think. I understand that you believe the legend. I also understand that you think I’m an idiot because I don’t. Is that about right?” He stuck a finger in his mouth and picked at a molar.

“I believe what my eyes show me, fool,” Chance said, “I encountered a demon, a wyrlaerd, accompanied by an entourage of warriors who I theorized to be hacks, a theory I later confirmed upon finding this very token on one of the warrior’s corpses. I also saw you destroy the same wyrlaerd with that sword.”

Beam laughed. “What you perceived to be a wyrlaerd.”

“What I know was a wyrlaerd!” Chance said back, “You don’t understand. I’ve studied them extensively. My entire life has evolved around preparing for this very moment. This tarry creature looked exactly as a wyrlaerd shell should look, including the mudsteel armor. It spoke like a wyrlaerd, dressed like a wyrlaerd, and most certainly met its demise like a wyrlaerd. Beyond that, the demon even admitted to me that it
was
a wyrlaerd, as if I needed the instruction.”

“You ever see a wyrlaerd before yesterday, Brother?”

“I’ve never seen rock lizards mating, but I’ve seen a lot of rock lizards. Sometimes truth lies in deduction. I would think a ‘man of science’ would understand that.”

“I’ve never seen rock lizards mate, either, but using your logic, I could as easily deduce that they spontaneously generate from rocks. That’s what the Mendophian druids think.”

Chance returned to his packing. “I regret ever having broached the subject. You’re arguing simply to be belligerent.”

“Belligerent?” Beam snorted, “Me? Cantankerous, maybe. Temperamental, probably. Bad tempered, certainly. But belligerent? Never.” He was thoroughly amused with himself.

Chance sent him another look.

Beam held his wine up and grinned. “So tell me this, how much do you think I can fetch for that blade? You seem to know a lot about history. You think it’s worth more intact? Or should I pry the stone out, melt down the gold, and sell them separately?”

To his great disappointment, the man didn’t even flinch at that. “If that stone’s a Blood Caeyl as I believe,” Chance said without gracing him with a look, “It’s worth more than all the gold in Parhron.”

Beam felt the warm sensation of greed swell up. “Damn me, now you’re talking, Brother. Must be a pretty rare gem, eh?”

“You can’t imagine. The Blood Caeyls influence the energy of life forces. They weren’t uncommon at one time. Unfortunately, it became the popular belief several hundred years ago that if the stones were ground up and fed to women who were with child, their offspring would be born with the Birthsight. It was no more than a fool’s tale, but if a rumor gets spread far enough fast enough...” He stopped packing and looked over at Beam, but then simply shrugged and went back to his work. “Anyway, within a few generations the stones were absolutely consumed. None can be found today, and believe me, I and all the other Caeyl Mages have looked far and wide for one. I imagine the dust of Blood Caeyls line the bottoms of shit houses in every backwater town on the continent.”

Beam looked over at the stone shimmering in his bedding. “Hm, so much the better for me.”

“You won’t make a single coin from it.”

“You don’t think so?” Beam said, “You don’t know me very well.” He finished his wine and swiped his mouth across his bare arm. “Anyway, your fairytales are getting dull. Talk to me about gold if you want my attention.”

“All right,” Chance conceded, “You say it’s a fairytale. Did I see you drive your sword through the demon’s armor? Through steel armor?”

“Longbows do that,” Beam said, “Bolts do that. So do some pikes, and there’s no magic in any of it.”

“Was it an illusion when the beast's flesh melted and boiled into the dirt? Or when its energy turned my house to ash? Is it an illusion that they’ve taken Luren?” Chance slammed the table hard enough to rattle the jars and plates.

Beam flinched.

Chance dropped back onto his stool. His face was red and sore.

“Easy now,” Beam said carefully, “You worry me when you start getting all worked up like that, and I am not a nice person when I’m worried.”

“You know, Beam, you're probably right,” Chance said, “It’s all just a delusion. It must’ve been something you ate. Something we both ate.”

Beam disappointed himself buy suffering an unwelcome pang of guilt. Why the hell was he badgering the fool so? Where was the payout in harassing the poor monk? He’d just lost his boy, after all. His priory was little more than smoking ruins moldering far behind them in the dark woods. The man probably lost everything he had. He should be showing more charity.

“Look, Brother,” he said carefully, “Here’s what I believe. When bullshit is repeated often enough, even bullshit starts making sense. What’s important is to push the bullshit out of your mind before it gets comfortable there.”

Chance stopped packing and turned to him. “Okay, scholar, let’s consider the facts. Did you see the caeyl fight back at the house?”

“What, you mean the lightning?”

“Yes. The lightning. Blood of the gods! Did you see it or not?”

Beam took a drink and mentally kicked himself. This was exactly why he didn’t count charity among his talents. Because it offered no advantage, and because he was monumentally bad at it.

“Can your precious science explain that?” Chance pushed.

“These are modern times,” Beam said steadily, “Mysticism is dead. Science defines the world now. Parhronii scholars have created a machine that prints books a whole page at a time. I’ve read some of the books as proof. In fact, in just my lifetime, I’ve seen the invention of cannons that can fire a ball of iron a thousand yards. Talk is the Baeldons are close to making cannons small enough to hold in your hands. And the scholars at the University of Parhron have created a machine that can cause sparks of lightning to strike a target from a yard away. I know. I’ve seen it displayed.”

“Did you see any machines back at my house?”

“What?”

“Did you see any machines back at my house? Any contraptions? Any devices?”

As Beam looked into the man's eyes, he found himself wavering. He was suddenly unable to resist the one thing he revered most. The facts. He remembered charging the creature without having made the decision to do so. He remembered trying to release the sword and being unable to make it happen. And before that? When he was fighting the savage behind the fallen tree? Just as the savage should’ve parted him from his intestines, the sword was in his hands, though he had no memory of grabbing it and could never have reached it from twenty feet back. It didn’t make sense, but there it was.