by AS Hamilton
'What is it called? I may know it,' Sariah said.
Sarre frowned. 'That is the problem, I cannot recall the name... Oh, I know where it is,' he quickly assured the warrior at her long-suffering sigh. 'It is close to where you want to go after getting the harem out. I can draw you a map showing you how to get there. It is a popular place with tables outside because it is always packed.'
Brynn nodded. 'Sounds like the kind of place I want.' He turned to Sariah. 'Presuming I do not misread Sarre's map and end up lost.'
Brynn's expression said he was joking. Sariah did not take the comment as light-heartedly.
'Or a prison cell,' she grumbled. She dropped her gaze to the floor for several moments. All her objections had been deflected. The plan was fairly sound if the risks were weighed against the chance of freeing so many.
Sariah slid her eyes towards Kaydyr and the hawk hopped to the edge of the table so he could look over the edge. Then, Sariah reached down to haul up the satchel she had dropped there and tossed it to Brynn. 'The blank orders are in a hidden pocket at the bottom. You better write neatly, the administrators who write these up have a very precise hand.'
Brynn smiled. 'Oh, I had a very strict tutor. I can write in five different languages with a very steady hand.'
Sariah scowled and put her wrist down to Kaydyr. Striding to the room full of beds, she picked a lower bunk and laid down. She should not be taken aback, she reflected. Riqu was prone to these kinds of whims, something to do with the paths, she guessed. She disliked the lack of planning that accompanied the impulsive nature of mages. Although Riqu caught her out last time she complained, remarking on her tendency to 'go with her instincts' as being quite similar to his 'lack of planning'.
Day 6 – Late Afternoon
Dyri Meadows
(north-east end)
Balhalku saw the bolt, registered that it was coming straight at him for what seemed like a never-ending instant before his brain registered he should dodge. A sharp, slicing pain told him that he had been too slow. It was the price of seeing a human for the first time; he had been intrigued. He was a plains may-en-ghi and used to dwelling in the uninhabited plains between the Jagrery Ranges and the At-hara Desert. Being the youngest of his ghani, it had been a particularly proud moment when Baschia had sent to their ghani leaders and asked for volunteers of the plains colouring to help her distract Thane Kennelm. A moment followed by the elation of being accepted to do the duty with his rahn, Denica.
Now was not a moment for either pride or elation as the young may-en-ghi realised the men who had shot at him were saddling up or otherwise collecting weapons and heading for him. Now was the time to run, and run hard!
Balhalku turned, leaping down the slope behind him, putting all his fear and adrenalin into the movement. It took him a good thirty meters downwards and he accelerated into a sprint. The bolt stung his shoulder and with every movement it increased, sending sharp stabs of pain down his left foreleg every time it touched the ground. Already, he could hear the sound of hoof beats reverberating in the distance. They were catching up.
Then Denica was there. Not physically, as she was hidden in a thick island of shrubbery further along the plain, but he felt her. She was the one creating the illusion of an elvan riding a grey and white horse by his side. She sent her calm through him and the sending grew stronger as she wove it through his pain, confusing his mind as to which he actually felt. Balhalku rejoiced. Denica's skills could put her on the path to becoming a mage. She had chosen instead to accept him, young Balhalku, as rahn. He wondered if their leader had sent them not because he had volunteered, but because Denica would go with him.
'To the south, my chosen. When you are over the next hill, head straight for the greenery and skid into it, keeping low. I can jump out at the other end.'
As Balhalku climbed the hill, the pain in his shoulder flared causing nausea and dizziness. He wobbled slightly, taken off guard at the intensity of it. He inhaled as deeply as he could, pushing the sensation down.
'Courage, my rahn. It is not long now before rest is yours to claim.'
'It hurts.'
'Keep focused. Look for my hiding place, see it?'
Balhalku sent an affirmative.
'Good, now think of nothing else until you reach it.'
Balhalku stretched back into a longer stride as he came down the side of the hill, putting all his strength into it. His acute hearing told him that the horsemen were still catching up and he wanted to give Denica as much time as possible. He was not worried they would catch her, Denica, rested and uninjured, would outrace them in moments. What worried him was if they saw her up close, they might see she was definitely not a large cat.
Finally, he reached Denica's refuge and he felt leaves brushing his flanks, his scales rippling, changing colour. He had no recollection of actually crossing the fields leading up to the hiding spot, just relief that he was here. His legs gave underneath him and he tumbled into Denica who nuzzled him briefly before she leapt out from the greenery.
Day 6 – Sunset
Sal-Cirus
Sariah rose from the narrow bed. It was barely wide enough to turn over in, but at least it was made for elvan height. Slipping out of the dormitory, she willed the door to slide shut behind her to ensure she did not disturb Brynn and Sarre. As the warrior stepped into the main room she came to such an abrupt stop she could feel the door as it whispered closed behind her.
A male elvan with a striking contrast of azure, gold and silver waist-length hair, had his back to her. As she processed his unexpected presence, he started to hum softly. He was not dressed like most rebels, he was wearing pale-blue silk trousers and a cream-coloured linen tunic. He'd stand out in a crowd, dressed like that. The fine chains and gems of his courtship belt shimmered as he moved. The belt had been passed along sixteen generations of his family line, if she counted correctly.
She became aware of a most wondrous smell, ti-esca-in-ati, a vegetarian meal with a fruit marinade that used to send her and Sentary into ecstasy when their father made it. A sharp lance of pain caused her to gasp softly. The memory had been so clear that, for just a moment, she could hear their voices, see their bright eyes, smell her mother's perfume, feel her father's light hand on her shoulder as he brought her attention to the helari he was passing her. The strong spice of the drink seemed to fill her nostrils as if she was right there with them again.
'Ah, Sariah and Kaydyr, my apologies if my preparations have disturbed your rest.'
Sariah made herself focus, the elvan had turned azure eyes with gold and silver flecks to Kaydyr, who sat upon her shoulder.
'Uh, no, I woke naturally and refreshed.' Sariah frowned slightly. 'Have we met?'
'A long time ago. It was before you were linked to Kaydyr, so you would have only known my voice. We have a shared history, too. I know your father, Riqu. Fought by his side in the war. Played at his feet while he and my mother discussed whatever it was they considered pertinent to the administrations under their respective charges before the war.'
Of course, this was Leyhera, the escapee from the House of Falkon-kai that Sarre had mentioned. Recovering her sense of decorum, Sariah made a slight curtsey movement while touching her fingers to her forehead — a traditional, if formal, elvan greeting. But the elvan before her deserved such respect. 'House of Falkon-kai, vega Leyhera, I welcome you,' she said using an elvan term of respect.
Her greeting produced a wide grin from Leyhera as he copied her move but touched his fingers to his chest, a more intimate version of the formal greeting, generally reserved for those you knew well, such as friends and kin. 'Forgive me, I do not know if you share House of Brynn-a-kai with Riqu or retain House of Ko-renti.'
'Ko-renti,' Sariah replied, feeling unaccountably shy.
Suddenly, Leyhera gasped, 'The millenade!' Turning, he tended to a shallow pan. He sighed with relief. 'Thank Fate, I have not burned it.'
Sariah moved up next to him, so Kaydyr could see, but
was careful not to get in his way.
Leyhera moved to a deep pot filled to its bubbling brim and used a spoon to scoop up a piece of broccoli. Blowing on it to cool it, he offered the spoon to her.
Sariah closed her eyes as she savoured the taste, it really was just like her father's recipe. Opening her eyes, she said, 'My seda could not have done better.'
He nodded once. 'I am honoured by such a compliment. Sit,' he instructed. 'It is almost ready, and Brynn and Sarre said they did not mind if I ate before they got up, so I am sure no offence will be caused if you join me.' Leyhera guided her to a seat at the table before returning to his cooking.
'The trick will be keeping the meal warm for them without over cooking it,' Sariah commented.
'I plan to just leave it covered to the side and then re-heat it when they wake. I have a feeling they both need whatever rest they can get.'
'Brynn has hardly been sleeping, so I know for his part, that is very true,' Sariah confirmed.
Kaydyr remained on her shoulder, and she scanned the table through his eyes. Four places had been set in the traditional manner. That was when Sariah realised that it was not just a long-missed recipe that Leyhera had prepared, but the four drinks that went with it. A spiced wine, the helari. A crisp juli-hen, which was a fruit juice blended with coconut. Warmed rum, and a delicate sparkling grape juice. Chilled water for sipping between changing drinks had also been supplied. The meal would start with the spiced wine and an entrée of a light salad. Then the ti-esca-in-ati, with which the juli-hen was matched. At meal's end, a quick shot of warmed rum and thanks would be given to the cook. Then, with a few scoops of sorbet they would sip the grape juice. Although at home, her mother and father always had zilveran. Once they let her and Sentary have some and they ended up falling asleep at the table while their parents talked.
'How did you find all the ingredients?' Sariah wanted to know as she waited for him to finish preparing the meal.
'Oh, I think you will find Sarre is a very resourceful elvan. I made a deal with him — I would make a traditional ti-esca-in-ati if he helped with ingredients.'
Sariah contemplated the table setting, trying to remember when she had last sat at a table set this way. Who had she been eating with? She could not recall. She had been so young. These days she either ate while on the road or around a stove or camp fire. The major rebel bases had furnishings much like elvan homes had once, but meals were informal.
He was interesting, this journey-walker of Falkon-kai notoriety. She wondered how old he was. His voice certainly sounded familiar. She could remember a voice like his saying her blindness was not an impediment to his story-telling as she would see everything in her mind, just as every other attendee who had come to hear the journey-walker recite history and tell stories. He had sung, too.
Unexpectedly, Sariah found herself asking, 'Are you the journey-walker who lead me on the walk through the Talkai Valley Falls?'
Leyhera murmured an affirmative before saying, 'I remembered linking with you, such a…' He seemed lost for words for a long moment. 'Such a unique mind.' Another thoughtful silence followed, then the journey-walker gave a half shrug. 'It is unusual, in my experience, to come across a mind as incisive as yours at such a young age.'
Sariah found herself blushing, now she remembered. She had quite worshipped the journey-walker. But then he had provided vision where before she had none. Even though the vision only lasted throughout the tale, it had been a reprieve from a darkness she had often found daunting. Not long after the journey-walker's visit, Riqu had set out to provide her with a visual companion. He linked her with Kaydyr just over a turn later. Sariah believed Leyhera's linking with her for the story-telling had inspired Riqu to explore a more permanent solution to her loss of sight.
Leyhera set the shallow pan aside to 'rest' and turned to face Sariah. Leaning on the counter, he pushed his braids behind his ears before crossing his arms. 'Is it better? Being linked to Kaydyr?'
'Than being blind?'
Leyhera looked at Kaydyr as he nodded.
'There are benefits, but the cost has been high.'
The journey-walker nodded again. 'I can well imagine.'
Leyhera turned back to his cooking and a few minutes later he brought over two bowls and set one to her right as the plate immediately before her was for the salad. The ti-esca-in-ati was always heated a few degrees above eating temperature so that by the time the salad was finished, it had cooled enough to eat, but was not cold. Taking up the mixed grinder he added two twists of ground spices to the ti-esca-in-ati. Next, he shook a spoon of finely grated cheeses and herbs over the salad, before serving it and then pouring the wine. Sariah waited until he was seated before she raised her glass and dipped her head in a silent tribute.
Leyhera beamed. 'It has been such a long time since I have been able to immerse myself in these small details of our culture. I also thought that after having only travelling rations, my companions might appreciate something of more depth and taste, and, thus, was inspired.'
'Your consideration is deeply appreciated.'
Sariah took her first mouthful, closing her eyes as she savoured all the flavours. She still found it strange that with her eyes closed, she could still see, because Kaydyr had not closed his eyes. It was a remarkable meal, and she was content that Leyhera chose to share the meal in silence. When Leyhera poured them both the shot of warmed rum, Sariah allowed the alcohol to rest in her mouth a moment before swallowing.
'I had no time to make sorbet,' Leyhera murmured as he poured the grape juice, 'however, I still think it appropriate to end the meal this way.'
He handed her a glass and returned to his seat.
'Do I remember correctly that you used to do a performance to cheer up refugees that involved using a past memory of one of the attendees and bringing everyone into that memory so they could all experience it?'
Leyhera drew his head back slightly in surprise. 'Aye, indeed I did. Until you mentioned it just now, though, I had quite forgotten. I recall great trouble was made to ensure the memory used was a happy one and could involve all participants.' The journey-walker leaned back, a wistful expression on his face. 'What fun that was!' He leaned forward, enthusiasm lighting up his eyes. 'You know, when my mother was teaching us how to do that, I detested the exercises.'
His manner and tone caused Sariah to chuckle. 'That is hard to believe.'
'Oh, aye, I found them a terrible bore and could not imagine what one would need such skills for.' He paused for a moment, his eyes becoming sad. 'And then one day my mother showed us how to do it. We practiced, my sisters and I, using each other's memories. My complaints were forever silenced. Never again did I protest the tedious exercises or the horrifically, thick tomes we had to read.'
Leyhera took a moment to sip his juice. 'One of my sister's favourite memories was of us playing with our father in a pool at the bottom of a set of shallow waterfalls. It was near our home and a favourite spot during summer. He would dunk us under or he'd pretend he was a giant octopus and chase us. Sometimes he'd scoop us up and toss us. Oh, how we laughed. I could not count the amount of times I swallowed water because I was laughing so much.'
'You remember them well, then? Your parents?'
The journey-walker nodded. 'It is my trade, really. A journey-walker must have the skill to store and retrieve memories, both those they have experienced and those they learn. I am fortunate in that my parents still live, well… last I heard. But my sisters…' He looked down for a moment, but when he looked back up, the sadness she expected to see was not there, his expression was more wistful. 'I honour them whenever I can by recounting our happy memories, for they would not have wanted me to dwell in sadness.'
The comment made Sariah smile. 'I think that is true of all who love us and have passed on.' She placed her glass on the tabletop and shifted to sit up straighter. Kaydyr adjusted his grip as she did. A frown flickered briefly on Sariah's face and was replaced by a thoughtful expressi
on. 'In theory, you could retrieve any memory as long as the person is made known to you. Is that correct?'
Leyhera could tell she was heading somewhere with her line of questioning, but he could not yet determine her destination. He was quite sure she wanted a memory, not one of her own. He had to be careful, just before he went to lie down, Brynn had asked him to be judicious in the knowledge he imparted to the blind warrior, should they talk.
'I can, in some circumstances. It is a complex process more in line with someone of planes-walking abilities. Falkon-kai, however, do teach their journey-walkers such methods if they show exemplary competence in navigating planes.' Leyhera frowned himself and, tilting his head slightly, he looked at Sariah instead of Kaydyr as he asked, 'Whose memory are you after?'
Sariah was a long time in answering, but eventually murmured, 'I want to know how my parents died, who killed them.' When Leyhera's frown deepened she shook her head. 'I do not want revenge. I want… I want closure. One moment they are alive, then I awake from unconsciousness to learn they are gone. I know the memory will be… traumatic, but I do not feel that their deaths are real. Sentary, my brother, turned out to be enslaved rather than killed. I want to be sure.'
The journey-walker's frown lifted and was replaced with a very neutral expression. Sariah waited patiently for his response.
Without warning, Leyhera rose, taking up his plate and gathering hers. Sariah watched him silently. Once Leyhera finished stacking the used dishes on the counter he turned and considered her again, looking at Kaydyr as he spoke. 'I am not sure I can do exactly what you ask. But I may — just may — be able to confirm their absence or existence.' He paused, frowning again. 'I have never accessed the memory of someone who has passed on. I am not sure it can be done. Nor am I sure it needs to be to gain what you want. In truth, I have to think on this, about how best to achieve what you want, but I am willing to try.'
'What do you need from me?'