Fires of Memory

by Washburn, Scott;

  “I’m sorry. Please try to understand. They are afraid of you, and I gave my word not to betray them!”

  “Afraid of us? Why?” demanded Matt.

  “They…they aren’t powerful. Not the way you probably think. They are afraid you will destroy them, or make them into slaves.” He cast a terrified glance at the white-robed priest.

  “Ridiculous! We need their help!” exclaimed Pelacore.

  “No, we don’t…!” began the priest in white, but his arm was seized by the patriarch who silenced him.

  “They won’t believe you,” said Carabello. “That’s why they have hidden themselves.”

  “We know their approximate location,” said Pelacore. “We can find them ourselves if we have to!”

  “You won’t! They’ve hidden themselves with their magic. You’ll never find them!”

  “You found them!” snarled Matt. What was the matter with this young fool? Couldn’t he see what was at stake?

  “They consented to talk to me! If I try to lead you back to them, they’ll just stay in hiding. I’m sorry! I wish I could help, but I can’t!”

  “You miserable coward!” cried Matt, standing up again. “This isn’t some scholarly problem to discuss over brandy! Thousands of people have died, and hundreds of thousands more will die! Do you think the Kaifs are going to spare you or your precious university? The University in Berssenburg is in ruins! The master scholars’ heads are on pikes outside of it! The students are yoked like oxen to harvest the crops for the Kaifs, and they use the books and scrolls as tinder for their fires! When they get here, they will do the same thing!” Actually, Matt had no idea what had happened to the University of Berssenburg, and he hoped Brother Thaddius would not contradict him, but it sure sounded good. And it was certainly getting through to Carabello. His already pale face was now nearly white. Matt thought he was probably getting ready to wet himself.

  “So you are going to take us to your damned wizards! I swear I’ll wring your neck myself if you don’t!”

  * * * * *

  Jarren stared at the angry soldier, standing a few yards away, and tried to compose himself. Colonel Krasner looked to be about the same age as he was, but he had never seen a harder or more determined man. Of course, he had heard the tale he had to tell, and Jarren could understand why the man looked hard—and angry. How else would he look at someone he thought had the answer to a terrible problem?

  But I don’t have any answers! He looked to where the white-robed priest was barely being restrained by the city patriarch. Even if I did, should I give them out?

  He still could not believe this was happening. He had come back to Zamerdan expecting to spend a delightful winter, enjoying his first snow and carefully poring over his notes with Oto, and making plans for books and papers and lectures. Instead, he had been snatched off the ship, held in virtual house-arrest for two days, and then dragged to this meeting where a group of powerful men suddenly told him they were counting on him to save the world!

  But he couldn’t save the world. He did not know how. He rather doubted the magickers on the island knew either, but he could not even ask them without betraying them and breaking his word! He’d already lied to these men about their not being able to find the island, but what if they went ahead and tried anyway? He could just imagine what Stephanz would say if he came running back to Erebrus with a fleet of ships and a batch of soldiers demanding their aid! And Dauros would be terribly hurt and Lyni would sneer at him and even Idira would be disappointed. He’d given them his solemn promise not to betray them.

  But surely they’ll be able to see that the situation has changed!

  Would they? Would they even care? Idira would, but Stephanz and Lyni certainly would not. And what about that priest who was shouting about heresy. The church used to burn heretics! What should he do? He teetered in agonizing indecision.

  “Well?” snarled Colonel Krasner, menacingly.

  Maybe I should take a page from Gez’s book: self-preservation comes first!

  “I…I want to help, but I’m not sure what I can do.”

  “Jarren,” said Oto gently, “I can understand that your word is so important to you, but this crisis goes beyond any man’s word or honor—or even beyond the desires of the wizards. We are all in danger, and that has to take precedence. You will help us, won’t you?”

  He could feel his resistance crumbling. All these men looking at him! But it was important, wasn’t it? Uncounted thousands could die and cities go up in flames. He’d listened in horror to Krasner’s description of what had happened to the University in Berssenburg. Surely they didn’t harm the great opera house, did they? But he knew that they probably had. The stories he had heard from the wizards about the Battle of Soor and what had come before were enough to convince him that the Kaifeng were capable of nearly anything. What else could he do but try to help?

  “I…I can take you to Erberus and probably get a message through to the wizards, but I can’t promise anything beyond that!” he gasped at last. “They might not even answer!”

  “Just get me there and I’ll make them answer!” snarled Krasner.

  “You intend to go there yourself, Colonel?” asked Chancellor Pelacore.

  “I think that I must. Both because I have the most firsthand knowledge of the Kaifeng magic and…to ensure that the mission is carried out as boldly as needed.” He stared at Jarren.

  “I must insist that an emissary from Heguria accompany this expedition,” said the minister from that country.

  “And from Durace!” Within seconds, all the delegates had made commitments to send someone along.

  “And the church demands a representative as well,” said the city patriarch.

  “S-so you can burn the wizards as heretics?” demanded Jarren, amazed that he had the courage to even talk. “I-I won’t help you do that!”

  “No one is suggesting we burn any wizards, Master Carabello,” said Pelacore.

  “He just did!” said Jarren, pointing at the man in white. “Not five minutes ago!”

  Pelacore hesitated for a moment, and the eyes in the room all turned toward where the priests were sitting. The man in white looked furious, the patriarch was trying to calm him, and Brother Thaddius looked extremely uncomfortable.

  “Your Eminence,” said Pelacore, “I’m aware of standing church doctrine in these matters, but I’m sure you can understand that the circumstances are different now. The fate of our civilization—and the church—might well rest on acquiring the aid of these wizards. While your request for a representative on the expedition is certainly reasonable, your man would have to agree to being nothing more than an observer.”

  The priest in white was about to spring up when the patriarch held him back again. “Very well, Chancellor,” he said. “Brother Dominak, here, represents the church’s Council of Purity, but I agree that he is not the proper representative at this time. Who would you find acceptable?”

  “How about Brother Thaddius?” asked Colonel Krasner. “He can certainly appreciate the seriousness of the situation as well as anyone.”

  “That would be acceptable to me,” said the patriarch, although it was clearly not to the liking of Brother Dominak. “Brother Thaddius, would you be willing to make this voyage?”

  “Yes, Your Eminence. I will accept whatever task you charge me with.”

  “Very well, I think this is an excellent plan,” said Pelacore. “If we present a plea from all the civilized lands in a united effort, these wizards must surely give us aid.” Jarren was not so sure, but he kept his mouth shut. He sagged in his chair. It was all out of his hands now, and he felt a bit of relief, but considerable guilt, too. No matter how he—or these people—might try to rationalize it, he had broken his word. The wizards would never—ever—trust him again.

  “So then,” continued Pelacore, “Colonel Krasner shall be put in command of the expedition. The Princes of Zamardan will each contribute a ship. Representatives from each of the prin
cipalities—and the church—will go along. Meanwhile, the rest of us can conclude agreements for future military cooperation against the Kaifeng. Even if we do find an answer to the enemy magic, we will still have a terrible war to fight come spring.”

  “Thank you, Chancellor,” said Krasner. “I believe that we must make plans to depart as quickly as possible. The weather will be working against us and only get worse as the year wanes.” He walked over to Jarren. “Master Carabello, shall we get to work?”

  * * * * *

  “This is Erebrus,” said Carabello, pointing to a sea chart. “The wizards’ boat picked me up here, and it took about twelve hours to reach the island.” Matt craned his head to look over the man’s shoulder.

  “How fast was the boat?” asked the commodore of the squadron. He was one of the princes of Zamardan’s men, but Matt wasn’t exactly sure which one. How he had been selected to lead the squadron of five warships, Matt didn’t know.

  “I’m not really sure,” said Carabello. “It seemed very fast to me, but I am no seaman.”

  “Faster than the Unicorn?”

  “Perhaps. But then it was smaller and lower to the water. It may have just seemed to be going faster.”

  “And you really have no idea what direction you were sailing?” The commodore’s question seemed to indicate what he thought of any man who did not know what direction he was sailing.

  “Generally north, I think. When the sun rose, it was to our right. Of course, we could have been going in any direction before then. I’m sorry, but I wasn’t really paying attention.”

  “What about the voyage back?”

  “It was very cloudy and rainy. I could not see where the sun was.”

  “Well,” snorted the commodore, “if we assume this magical boat was not doing over eight knots, then this island could be almost anywhere within a hundred miles of Erberus. Probably off to the north, but it could be anywhere in a fairly large arc.”

  “You are not going to just search for it are you?” asked Carabello. “We will try to contact the wizards first, won’t we?”

  “We will,” said Matt. “But if they don’t answer—and right quick—we shall have to go looking for them. Magic concealment or not. Correct, Commodore?” Matt was in nominal command of the expedition, but the commodore was in charge of the ships. Matt would have to be careful how he dealt with the man. He was still somewhat amazed at the authority he had somehow come to have. But he had come barging in here trying to get people to do what he wanted, and it was only just that they would expect him to do a part of the job. And he would. The idea of finding these wizards and getting an answer to the fireflies was consuming him. He had a vision of the Kaifs charging down on him and the army, just behind a cloud of fireflies—and then the fireflies not working! It was a lovely image.

  But to make that happen, he was going to have to find the wizards, and to find them, he was going to need the help of this Carabello person. Matt was trying not to dislike him. He kept telling himself that the man wasn’t a soldier and could not be expected to act or think like a soldier. It wasn’t really helping. He had acted like a coward in the meeting, and Matt could not really forgive that. Not with what was at stake. Not with what others had already sacrificed. Well, Master Carabello was going to give his all—even if it killed him!

  “When can we be ready to sail, Commodore?” asked Matt.

  “The day after tomorrow. I know you are eager to be away, but we still have provisioning to do on all the ships. We may be out here half the winter, and I won’t be caught short on supplies.”

  “I understand. Very good, we’ll be ready.” He turned to Carabello.

  “Get your things packed. And pack what you’ll need. We aren’t coming back without your wizards!”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Colonel Mattin Krasner clung to the rail as the ship heeled again. The bow dug into a gray-green wave and sent spray flying the length of the ship. Were it not for his oilskin jacket, he would have been soaked to the skin. He was very nearly soaked to the skin even with the jacket. And he was cold. The wind was out of the northwest, and it carried the rumor of winter with it.

  It would be drier and warmer in the stern castle, but Matt could not stand to be in there any longer. The commodore expected to sight the island that Erberus was located on today, and Matt wanted to be on deck when it happened. There was no practical reason for it, he knew, but three weeks at sea and the enforced idleness that it had entailed was wearing heavily on him. Lately, any delay at all—in anything he was doing—seemed to send him into a rage. He wasn’t sure why, but something kept telling him that time was short. Waste not a moment. Spring was months away and it seemed unlikely that the Kaifeng could do much during the winter. Berssia had hard winters. Perhaps it was just his impatience to be doing something—anything.

  What is Kareen doing right now? The lack of activity on shipboard had allowed him to think about his sister far too often. He could do absolutely nothing to help her and worrying about her did no good at all—but he couldn’t help it. Thelena had said that she would protect Kareen, but what did that mean? Matt had nearly forgotten that Thelena was herself a Kaifeng. When he first saw her outside the pen, he had assumed that she was a slave like all the other women who had been captured. He realized now that he was probably wrong. Thelena had somehow been re-absorbed into the Kaifeng society, and she had Kareen with her. But she was protecting her now. From what? From rape? He doubted it. From torture or death? Probably. He supposed that was all he could hope for: that Kareen would be spared the harshest sort of treatment—as long as she cooperated. Matt had no illusions about what ‘cooperation’ meant for a slave of the Kaifeng. It’s still better than her being dead.

  When he had read Thelena’s message, he had wept with joy and relief—even knowing full well that Kareen was probably warming some Kaif’s bed. He was very glad she was still alive. If he’d learned one thing in the Kaif death pen, it was that the living could still have hope, while the dead had none at all.

  As long as he and Kareen were still alive, there was some hope they would see each other again. She was all he had left and he wanted to see her very much. And the only way that had any hope of happening was if he could find some way of beating the Kaifeng magic. Maybe that was why he was so impatient.

  He turned slightly as Carabello staggered onto the deck and went to the nearby rail. He didn’t vomit, but he looked like he wanted to. The young scholar did not seem very comfortable at sea. He did well enough usually, but any time the wind or waves changed their rhythm, it would send him to the rail. Matt was trying his best not to dislike the man. His seeming cowardice had, apparently, been sparked by some misplaced sense of personal honor, so maybe he wasn’t quite the coward that he appeared to be. And Matt had to admit that he had been as cooperative as you could ask for on this voyage. Once he had overcome his initial reluctance to talk, he had hardly shut up. The dinners the commodore held had been dominated by Carabello’s talk of the wizards. Some of it had not interested Matt a great deal, but other parts had fascinated him. If he could just keep the scholar properly focused, he might prove quite useful after all.

  Carabello stood back from the rail and then caught sight of Matt. He jumped slightly in surprise. The man was nervous around Matt, but considering the circumstances under which they met, perhaps he should not hold that against him, either.

  “It’s all right, Master Carabello,” said Matt, speaking, loudly against the wind. “I don’t bite. Or not usually, anyway.”

  “H-hello, C-Colonel. How are you today?” stuttered Carabello.

  “Cold. Wet. But anxious to reach this island. We should get there today.”

  “Yes, that’s what the commodore told me. But he seems very concerned about the Wyvern.” Matt instinctively looked astern. Only three other ships were in sight. The fourth ship of their little squadron had disappeared two nights earlier when there had been a nasty squall. It had probably just lost touch with them and w
ould show up later, but one never knew. If it did not reappear, that could make things interesting: several of the representatives who had been sent were aboard that ship. Matt turned back to the scholar.

  “Master Carabello, I’d like to apologize for threatening to wring your neck back there during the council. I was a bit distraught at the time. I realize you had reasons for your seeming reluctance to help us. And since we shall be working together closely, I’d prefer to be on the best terms possible.”

  “I-I’d like that, Colonel. And I want to apologize for being so hesitant to help. This situation took me rather by surprise.”

  “Yes, it’s not easy to break your word. But I’ve come to realize that a man’s intentions are what’s important.” He paused and then laughed. “I’ve told so many lies to reach this point, that I’ve lost track of them. Yet I don’t regret a one. Technically, I’m still a captain, sworn to the King of Berssia, and yet I’m acting as a Laponian colonel, on a Zamerdanian ship, representing a council of a score of different principalities. If I’d stuck strictly to the letter of my oath, I’d be floundering around in Berssia doing no good whatsoever.”

  “Still,” said Carabello nervously, “if a man’s word isn’t worth anything, how are we to trust one another? There need to be some rules that everyone can abide by.”

  Matt frowned. He was neither inclined nor equipped to engage this man in a debate on ethics and morality, but avoiding the issue was not going to solve anything, either. “I suppose it comes down to a matter of degrees,” he said slowly, still clinging to the ship’s rail. “What promise are you making and to who? What are the circumstances that cause you to break it? If you promise someone that you will meet them at a certain time for dinner, but on the way there see a child trapped in a burning building, do you ignore the child to avoid breaking your promise?”