“That would look great in the history books. Princess Memory Maellan, Inventor of Hamburgers.” Memory smiled as she chewed her burger. It wasn’t how she remembered them, just close enough to tease her senses.
A large man approached through a gust of steam, kitchen workers scurrying out of the way of his imposing presence. His suit was black and purple. Memory smiled when she saw who it was.
Bedevere stopped in front of Memory and bowed. “Your Highness, I was told I would find you here. I’m sorry to disturb your meal.” He held out a folded piece of paper, without seal or envelope.
“No probs. Is that for me?” Memory wiped her hands on her apron. It had been forced on her by Clara and seeing the sauce smear she’d just made across it she was thankful she hadn’t just done that to her ice-blue dress.
“Yes. From my late brother.” Bedevere kept his usual steadfast expression, but Memory could see that Waylan’s death was still too fresh for him, just as it was for her. “I discovered it on his desk. It was addressed to you, but he hadn’t yet sealed it before his untimely death.”
Bedevere looked at the row of burgers with interest. “What are these?”
Memory lifted the tray for him. “Something from the other world. Try one.”
“Then there will be less for me,” Clara said with a playful sad tone.
“No way you could eat that many,” Memory scoffed.
“True indeed. That is something you would do.” Clara poked Memory’s stomach. “Councilor Bedevere, ignore my poor humor. Do try one. They are delicious.”
Bedevere, who had been holding a key in his free hand, placed it down on the kitchen bench next to Memory.
“I will take that offer indeed.” He reached for a knife and fork.
“That’s not how you eat a burger. This is how you eat a burger,” Memory said, and demonstrated grabbing a burger in both hands and stuffing it into her mouth. Juices ran down her wrist.
Bedevere raised an eyebrow, but picked a burger up as directed. He didn’t begin eating right away. “It is nice to be away from the meeting chambers for an intermission. So much organization still to do for security concerns. The Council fails to agree upon a proper magical security system for the Council’s most important works. We’re storing such important books and documents in an archaic safe room that uses mundane keys of all things. Very primitive, if you ask me. The only failsafe is that the door requires two keys.”
He glanced at Memory with a serious expression then took a bite of the burger. As he chewed, Memory thought she almost saw him crack a smile before his normal dour expression returned. “Yes, delicious. Since the fae ceased bringing imports of food and technology into Avall over a century ago, I fear there must be much we are missing out on. If you don’t believe, as most do, the reason they ceased importing was the complete fall of the rest of the world into Hell. At some point, your highness, I’d be appreciative of your co-operation in mapping and comparing timelines, from what you may remember, of course.”
Bedevere placed the burger back on the plate, having only eaten one mouthful, and gave Memory another swift bow. “I had better be back to work. Thank you for sharing some of the other world with me. I hope to learn more from you soon.”
Bedevere’s gaze dropped for a split second to the key beside Memory then back to meet her gaze before he nodded and left.
Understanding the message but not entirely sure why, Memory tucked his key into the palm of her hand before anyone else noticed it.
“What an odd gentleman,” Clara said.
“Yeah.” Memory looked at the letter he’d given her. For her from Waylan, not long before he was killed. She looked up at the ceiling until her eyes stopped watering.
“Are you having any more of these? I’d like to take the rest to some friends around the palace,” Clara asked. Memory took the one she’d already started off the tray then shook her head. Clara took the tray and left.
Memory opened the letter and read while eating the rest of her burger.
The letter was, as Bedevere had said, addressed to her. It explained that Alward’s magic books, which had been prohibited from going to Eloryn under the grounds of them being Council property, had already been catalogued and dispersed into the Wizard Council’s library. However, the filing of Alward’s personal research had been delayed due to short staffing and the time it was taking to catalogue the rambling studies. It had fallen to Waylan to catalogue the work, and while examining the notes he realized much of it was pertinent to Memory. Waylan noted that he had set these papers aside in the storage safe, out of the way on the back table beside other unsorted documents. In the letter he expressed that he believed these studies should belong to Memory and that he would be lobbying the Council to release them.
Then he died before he could.
Memory took a deep breath, a small smile shaking onto her mouth. She realized Bedevere had read the letter before handing it to her. His dead brother’s intent was for her to have Alward’s research, and Bedevere had left her with information on their security and a key to the safe they were kept.
Memory didn’t need to think too much about stealing the documents. In her mind they belonged to Eloryn, and if there was anything in them to help her understand her magic better, then she needed them. She just had to get another key.
Her first thought was of Roen, but asking him to help her steal seemed cruel, given the way he felt about his past. She’d just have to wait for another opportunity.
The window seat in the library was piled in soft pillows and lush upholstery, and made the perfect refuge from the gray weather surrounding the palace. It was becoming one of Memory’s favorite places, and the sound of rain on the glass helped keep her calm when thoughts confused her and emotions became dark and volatile, as they did too frequently these days.
She had just wriggled into a comfortable position when Eloryn approached. Her ever-present guard duty kept a distance, planting themselves like suits of armor along the walls.
“Might I join you?” Eloryn’s voice wavered. Memory hadn’t seen her sister since their argument the last time here at the window seat. She looked perfect as ever, and Memory wondered how her hair always looked so stunning. Rivers of jealousy inducing pale gold. Does she say her magic words to it and make it do what she wants? Seems like cheating, but then, who’d want a hair straightener when you have magic?
“You’re reading the book I gave you?” Eloryn asked, sounding even more nervous and making Memory realize she hadn’t replied.
Memory had the Avall history book balanced on her lap. She offered her sister a small smile. “It’s pretty good actually.” She tilted her head to the vacant opposite end of the window seat. Eloryn sat down with a look of relief.
Eloryn clutched a couple of books against her chest, but didn’t immediately start reading any. Memory wondered if they were for study, or for an excuse. She smiled a little more. She regretted the words she’d said to Eloryn when they’d fought. Memory wasn’t entirely sure what to think about Eloryn right now, but could tell Eloryn was trying to mend their relationship. Memory decided to try as well.
“This book has taught me a lot. Also, the pictures are really pretty.” Memory demonstrated by flicking to a portrait of a white-haired wizard, surrounded by archaic chemistry equipment.
Eloryn leaned forward a little and smiled “Lauphmer the Wise, one of the most powerful wizards of Avall history. It always was one of my favorite books of Alward’s collection when growing up.”
Memory ran a hand down the slightly worn but well cared for binding. “This was one of Alward’s books? I didn’t realize. Are you sure it’s okay for me to have?”
“Of course, that’s why I gave it to you.”
Memory couldn’t look her sister in the face. She’d been so ungrateful when she’d first received the book as a present. She stared at the illustration instead. Something caught her eye, and she frowned in recognition.
“Just how accurate would you sa
y these pictures are?” she asked.
“Quite. Most are portraits the wizards would have sat for personally.”
In the portrait, a small object hung from a chain about the wizard’s neck. An arrowhead, the same she’d seen in the iron stash beneath the castle.
Memory started flicking through pages, back to other portraits, examining them.
Eloryn moved closer to see what she was looking at. Memory poked the page hard, pointing to another powerful wizard from Avall history who sat beside the hoe she’d also seen in the stash.
“This is iron.”
She flicked back to Lauphmer and pointed out the arrowhead. “This too.”
Something twigged in Memory’s head and she turned the book right to the front.
“And, of course…”
Arthur with Caliburn.
“Mem, how do you know? They could be silver, or bronze. Caliburn is the only cold iron artifact.”
Memory shook her head and chewed her fingers. “No. No, this makes sense. Is it possible?”
“I’m afraid you’ve lost me,” Eloryn said with a confused giggle.
“All these great wizards with their iron tidbits. Me with my magic and my knife. That’s not a coincidence.”
“If indeed these wizards did carry cold iron, which I doubt they would have as there should be no iron in Avall.”
Memory looked up from staring at the illustration of Arthur. “Why do they call it cold iron? It always feels warm to me. Doesn’t it feel warm to you?”
“That’s what the fae call it — cold iron. And yes, the one time I have held your knife it did warm me. In fact it relit my Spark of Connection after it had been shut down.” Eloryn bit her lip, staring intently at Memory, her eyes and eyebrows twitching with thought and the edge of a smile on her lips. “It’s only forged iron that harms the fae. Raw iron is like a conductor of magic, of life, in our blood and the composition of our earth. What if when iron is worked by man, it somehow becomes affiliated to man, and becomes a magnet for magic?”
Memory’s eyes grew wide. “Drawing magic into humans?”
Eloryn nodded in return. “And out of the fae. Magic is their life force. And if forged iron also steals that from them, that’s why it hurts them.”
“So I’ve had my knife for who knows how long, just soaking up all this magic?”
Eloryn’s eyes sparkled as she paused to think. “For at least sixteen years within the Veil. That we know.”
Memory smiled, enjoying bouncing ideas back and forth. They were getting somewhere, assuming they were right, and Memory was happy to assume.
“And that’s why my magic’s all messed up. I’m not accessing magic like others by using the Spark of Connection. I just use the magic within me that I’m full of.” A vessel too full, ready to spill and spoil everything. Memory scowled. The damn fairies already knew. “What if it wasn’t just my knife? There might be more iron in the rest of the world. Why wasn’t everyone over there all magicked up? Will said there was no magic there.”
“No Spark of Connection. Maybe you need that, to attract the magic into you through the iron, like calling to like.” Eloryn looked away for a moment then back to Memory. She’d grown serious. “If this is the case, it explains the ritual. Thayl sent you to the otherworld, to build up all that power, so he could steal it and use it for himself. That’s why he had to twist time to find you when you were sixteen, when you’d had those years to absorb so much power.”
The air huffed out of Memory and she stared out the window. The rain splashed onto the roses, knocking loose petals to the ground. “It was never about me. I was just a tool, a battery to charge up and steal the power from. And with the magic, my memories.” My soul. “Why? Why did I lose them too?”
It was Eloryn’s turn to shrug.
Memory kept pondering out loud. “What if it all just gets jumbled up together?” Like Hope, created from my magic and memories and soul all messed up. “When he took all that magic out of me, it took everything else? Then why don’t I lose memories now when I use my magic?” Memory clutched the book on her lap, pulling it up like a shield. “What if I am and I just don’t know it?”
Eloryn shifted closer to her, putting a hand on Memory’s knee. “If Thayl took nearly everything you had, we could surmise all the magic you have now was channeled into you while you were within the Veil, when you formed no new memories for the magic to become attached to. But I’d have to say it might be best to be careful when and for what reasons you use your magic, just in case. As you form new memories now, we aren’t to know the magic within you won’t become tangled with those, and be lost as you expend it.”
Memory put her head back into the pile of pillows with a prolonged groan. “Yeah, like I can control when and for what reasons my magic splurts out. You’ve got so much control and power. You can ask anything of anything and just, bam, done. My magic is more bam, HAHAHA DID SOMETHING YOU WEREN’T EXPECTING LOLZ.”
Eloryn blushed. It was all too easy to make her blush. “It’s not really that powerful. I can talk to animals or speed up natural processes, but not a lot more. To be honest, the most exciting thing I ever did was have some wood rot and break under a guard’s foot when fighting Thayl.”
“But that’s cool. That was being creative. I bet if you thought about it, you’d have the power to do almost anything if you’re creative with it. Like doing your hair.” Memory eye-balled Eloryn but didn’t get a reaction to prove her suspicions so she continued. “Me and Thayl, we’re just human-shaped blaster-guns. Okay smart girl, here’s one for you. How come Thayl didn’t run out of magic after all those years blasting stuff?”
Eloryn looked like a kid who finished her exam before everyone else. “The basic rule. Like calls to like. Having that much magic within may have made him a powerful magnet for more. The growth would be exponential, almost uncontrollable at times.”
I know that feeling. All the information swirled in Memory’s head, picking up more and more details as it went, a tornado sweeping up debris. Each time she’d had a memory come back to her she’d been near iron or holding iron. If her magic and memories were out in the world, lost when she cut off Thayl’s hand, tangled together still, maybe some were coming back into her through the iron? But aren’t they in Hope now? Or is Hope just made from my soul? Memory’s theories started colliding and getting confused, and she started to lose confidence in them.
Eloryn sighed and half smiled. “But this is all really just theory, based on your wild notion that those items were all iron.”
Memory opened her mouth and almost told Eloryn everything, but something held her back. Not quite her own voice, the voice of Hope, warning and whispering. She’d gotten so caught up exchanging ideas with Eloryn, but even now what was Eloryn doing? Telling her not to use her magic.
She closed the book and stood up, the desire to leave taking her. “I guess we all believe what works best for us, right?”
Eloryn stood up right after her. “We have made a start though. The theories are promising. I swore to you once I would help get your memories back, and I still wish to uphold that. But only if it is what you still want.”
“Of course it’s what I want,” Memory snapped. She rubbed the bridge of her nose and looked away. Eloryn genuinely seemed to want to help, but Memory’s defenses had gone back up. She felt like a wild dog, at once ready to snarl and attack and yet desperately wanting affection, unsure which direction to run. “Is it what you want? Do you even want me to get my memories back?”
“If I had the power I’d have done so already, I would give you back everything that was taken from you.”
Memory’s eyes narrowed, and she walked away without another word. Everything that was taken from me. Everything... She knows. She does know my soul is broken.
Chapter 16
When Roen opened his door, his hair was tussled like he’d just woken up. He squinted at Memory and tugged a shirt on.
“Did I wake you up?” she said.
Roen panted like he’d run to the door. “What’s happened? Are you all right?”
“I just came to ask a favor.”
Roen winced, looked into his room and back at Memory. “At two in the morning?”
“What? Really? Sorry, I haven’t been sleeping much lately. I didn’t realize.” Memory wondered if that was why all the bodyguards that followed her down from her chambers were looking so amused. They could have said something. She glared back at them where they stood out of earshot down the hall.
Roen shook his head and chuckled. “I thought there was some danger, or, at the very least, hoped for a more entertaining night call.”
Memory stuck her tongue out at him. The joke made her feel awkward, but the favor she was about to ask felt even worse. She’d decided to ask for Roen’s help to steal after all since she’d made no progress on the heist on her own. With her recent breakthroughs about her magic, she needed to know more and felt Alward’s notes might hold more clues.
Memory took a deep breath and spilled out all her words with the next. “I want to get Alward’s notes off the Wizard’s Council, but to do it I need two keys and two people to turn the keys, and I have one key but still need to get another one and I’m just not as good at that stuff, you know, as you are.”
Roen frowned as he buttoned up his shirt. “Alward’s notes? They’re important to Eloryn aren’t they?”
“Well yes, and to me. A lot of the research was about trying to find me through the Veil. I’d try and get it myself, but I haven’t seen the inside of the safe room, so I can’t Veil door in, and if I try and use my magic some other way I’d probably just blow everything up. I know it’s asking a lot from you, and I didn’t want to—”
“I’ll do it, Mem,” he said, cutting her off with a warm smile. “For you.”
Memory nodded, looking at her feet. For me, or for her?
“I’ve got a plan and it shouldn’t be difficult. But, um, maybe I’ll tell it to you when it’s not two in the morning?”
Memory's Wake Omnibus: The Complete Illustrated YA Fantasy Series Page 41