Snowlands

by H. O. Charles

  “Don’t get into any more fights,” Doctor Colobrin said sternly. “And if anyone says they know you…”

  “…Get them to prompt my memories rather than tell me what my memories should be,” she recited by rote. He had a good point – who could believe a memory if they had been told a story rather than recalled it themselves? She attempted not to sound too grumpy about having to say the same things each time.

  “See if you can find yourself a nice man, too,” Mag Colobrin added with a wink. The woman seemed convinced that romance would be the solution to all of Raia’s problems. It was a nice thought.

  “I’ll do what I can, Mag. See you soon.” She gave them both a final smile and clambered into the coachman. Her heart ached more than she had expected as the landscape started to slide past the windows, and the only world she had good memories of soon merged into something new. The coachman gurgled its way downwards into the valley, through the throng of lush trees and heavy greenery. It bumbled past the pale skeleton of the compound where the doctor thought she had received her injuries, and it whirred out towards the plains beyond. The air tasted utterly different here: salty and soft rather than icy and bitter.

  Another hour passed before she was conveyed to the train dock, and it was when she arrived that the excitement started to grow. What possibilities! She leapt out of the coachman and tapped its battered, metal doors shut with her foot. The machine gave a short peep, before shooting off to collect its next customer. Raia skipped onto the platform and reached inside her coat for the money her hosts had so kindly given her for the journey. What she found was far larger than she could ever have anticipated. A great, big wadge of notes had been packed tightly into an envelope, and with them was a note from Harlo.

  Get a nice dress for the ceremony, R! (You’ll need it)

  Hugs,

  H & M

  Too kind, those people. Too bloody kind for their own good! Raia hastily stuffed the envelope back into her pocket before any of the other waiting passengers saw it. None of them looked particularly suspicious, however. Not that she knew what constituted a suspicious traveller, in any case. The train soon rolled into the dock on its rails of blue light and sparks, seeming to float above the ground with a hum and buzz of energy. Within the hour it had swept her away and into the white mountains of the east, through the rolling hills of a land called Cefarn and then into the wide plains of the Jeddar desert. It took another three weeks of rumbling along on the invisible tracks before she reached the City of The Fortress. Gharnast, as it was known, was a solid crush of sharp masonry and heavy roofing. Rain had already slaked most of the streets to an even darker shade of black, though throngs of people from across the galaxies added some variety in the tones of their clothing. Looming over the city was the main citadel, stronghold of the empire and seat of their ruler. It struck a strange sense of foreboding in Raia’s heart, which was silly really. It was only a building. Just a building with three, very large and angry towers.

  She bit her lip and forged forward into the bustle of the city, wary of the valuables she carried and the danger of the people around her. The Colobrins’ homeland had nothing like this density of people, and nothing like its variety. Face shapes and eye colour and hair and skin formed such a mix that it became almost blinding. As cosmopolitan as it was, some of the dwellers who passed gave her looks of curiosity. Perhaps they were not used to seeing Šona, or perhaps her wariness was too evident. Many times Harlo had told her she was too quick to reach for her blades. Jumpy.

  A warm inn was soon located. The Rose and Crown, as it was known, came at the recommendation of her adopted parents and justly so. Roaring fires burned in every hearth, and polished brass pipes wound their way over almost every red-brick wall. Raia fell asleep almost as soon as she touched the white sheets of the bedding, and was swiftly embraced by her usual cloud of peculiar dreams. Typically they included violent snow storms and avalanches roaring down distant mountains. But this time the avalanche came closer to her, whisking past her booted feet and hurtling with greater force towards her body. She ran from them, hard. But as she ran the drifts became deeper, and the wind blew harder against her. Her progress was slowed to almost nothing; the snows were coming for her. A howl sounded from the other side of the ravine, and it was not the howl of a dog. She knew the sound… she knew the animal. It was… It was a lurchcaw! A giant lizard that ran on two feet; a lizard that had a taste for human flesh. The howl sounded again, but Raia couldn’t move. It was coming. Its feet punched through the snow behind her. Closer.

  Don’t mention the colour.

  She awoke in a pool of her own sweat, with just about every injury she’d ever had aching down to her bones. The scar on her stomach was the worst. It felt as if it had been freshly carved into her again, and her attacker had used blades coated in acid. And Ihurade…. His dead, grey face flashed before her eyes. “Stop it, stop it! Get out!” she hissed into the blackness.

  Ihurade’s face faded with agonising torpidity. He always seemed so keen to remain in her vision, as if he knew she had forgotten him and wanted to punish her for it. Raia thrust herself out of bed and faced the foxed silver mirror on the dresser. She checked over each of her many scars in the low gas light, but found none open or inflamed. It was all in her head. All of it. And yet nothing was in her head. Not a single, blasted, useful memory! Her eyes dropped to the tooth that hung from the chain around her neck, and she held it up before the lamp as she had done so many times before. Could it be… was this the tooth of a lurchcaw? The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. She tried to picture the mouth of the giant lizard, filled with rows of pointed, white triangles of enamel. It was a stomach-knotting thought. Of course, she had seen a drawing of the creature in one of Colobrin’s tablets, but now she thought she had seen a living one. Perhaps she had seen several. The sound of its roar echoed in her ears as the tooth turned between her fingers. It had been so close. Chasing her through the snows.

  Only a few more days passed before the grand ceremony announced its presence among the people. Streamers and banners and ribbons decorated the cold face of the city, while red-painted aur-bikes chugged along the streets, emitting their vile, biting clouds of black smoke. Raia had located an outfit worthy of the occasion, though it was perhaps too worthy for her to wear. Some research had been required to work out exactly what counted as fashionable here, especially as the shop keepers had been convinced that everything they sold was the height of elegance for Gharnast ladies. And they had insisted upon the shoes: impossible things that simply weren’t made for walking in. The dress she had chosen was slim-fitted, white and covered with too many things that glittered all over it. Some of it appeared to trail along the floor in unnecessary swirls of silk and lace edging. Raia frowned at the silliness of it, and at the ancient scar that emerged from the neckline to trail over her shoulder. Braiding her hair was the best way to hide it; she had no idea what the well-to-do elites of The Four and Pangaea would think of her violent past, especially when she had no explanation to offer for it.

  As ever, the constant worry that she had done something unforgivable during the life she had forgotten resurfaced, and the fear that she would meet someone who desired vengeance regrew across her conscience. She could not afford to waste her remaining years locked away from those fears, however, and now it was time to face this new world of people. It was more likely that no one knew her, of course. They would be more concerned with canapés and wine and boring discussions on economics, Harlo said. The words made Raia smile once more, and she stepped out of her room to make her way to the awaiting coachman.

  “Well, look at that,” Mistress Janfor, keeper of the inn, said, “Beware you don’t catch the eyes of too many young men tonight, or we’ll have nothing left of you to tuck into bed.”

  Raia had found the woman to be a dreadful tease when she wanted to be. “I’ll try to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  “See you do, young Raia. The emperor’s the worst
for it. For all the people say he’s meaner than a flea-bitten dog, he did bed nigh on a thousand women in one year, so he must have something going for him. Though turn me to dust if I know what it is.”

  “A thousand!?” Three a day? Was that even possible? Wouldn’t a man become bored?

  “Aye, so the papers said. High women from across the galaxies queued at his door for months, apparently. And not one of them produced a child for him. His daughter came much later. Isn’t that peculiar?”

  “Very.” The more she heard about this man, the less she wished to meet him, never mind present him with the letter of excuse from the doctor. Some whispers she’d heard even implied that he had killed his own father. With any luck he would not try to murder her, too. She double-checked that she had secured a dagger to her thigh. It was still there. “I shall see you later, Mistress Janfor.” Raia made her way to the humid gloom of the evening, and clambered inside the coachman. It too had been painted a shocking shade of red as part of the celebrations. And she was not alone inside it. Two women and a man sat either side of her, their faces as grim as the weather and their clothing as indulgent as her own. Was she supposed to strike up conversation in this situation?

  The man smiled at her weakly before moving his eyes to the floor with such rapidity that she half thought she had something shameful written on her face. The others stared out of the windows as hard as they could, and Raia joined them in the activity. Only minutes passed before they arrived at the forbidding set of black iron railings that marked the entrance to the main fortress. Huge crowds of well-dressed prize-winners thronged around the courtyards and flowed through the vast stone doors. A fiery red light glowed from within, inviting them to their doom.

  She found herself drawn with the swell of this passive crowd, a subdued sort of chatter flowing in and about them. And once inside, a young man with too much air puffing up his chest peered at her and demanded to see her invitation. Raia duly provided the paperwork, together with the signed letter from the doctor. She took the opportunity to glance around at the hall while the man read through the documents.

  The insides of the building were far lighter than the exterior had implied; most of the surfaces were coated in a pale hues and festooned with bright lights. Fires burned in various niches across the walls, and below them the people heaved and chatted with their vessels of wine glittering. A very tempting cocktail bar nestled in the middle of them.

  “Fine,” the doorman said when he’d finished his lengthy deliberations. “I’ll let the master of ceremonies know.”

  Raia took back her documents and dove once more into the mass of hot, silk-clothed bodies. Everyone there seemed to have found someone they knew to talk to, and those that hadn’t did not look like terribly appealing conversationalists. Many grey, grim faces lined those walls, glass in hand. They reminded her far too much of the dead man in Harlo’s cellar.

  She eventually located an empty bar stool and waited with patience for one of the whizzing robots to attend to her request. She had never made use of a server mech before, but it soon became clear from watching the other patrons that a great deal of shouting and gesticulating would be required. After dealing with the latest of its unhappy customers, the mech clunked along its rail and reached four spindly fingers towards her. “Order?” it asked in metallic tones.

  “Black beer,” she said clearly. A man’s drink, by all accounts, but she found it comforting.

  A syrup and brandy cocktail was promptly placed before her, and the server mech bowed as if ready to receive praise.

  “Great,” she said, “Thanks.” Raia allowed herself a quick sip. Far too sweet. The mech hummed and clunked and moved on to its next victim, leaving her to gaze back out at the buzzing crowd.

  “Good evening, sand jewel of my dreams.” A man had seated himself opposite her, his face pulled into an overly broad smile. Reddish-blond hair touched his ears, while a pair of very dark eyes sparkled amidst his pale skin. He looked like she did.

  “Hello,” Raia responded politely.

  A crease formed between his rather feminine eyebrows. “Seven years since I’ve seen a girl from the homeland and I don’t even get a proper response?”

  “What is the proper response?”

  He blinked at her. “Surely you weren’t that young when the sabres came?! Firnaldon da warm ka garn?” he asked hopefully.

  Raia shook her head out of confusion. “I’m afraid my memory is not very good. I don’t even know if I am, or was, Šona.”

  “Oh, you are Šona. Trust me. And not a bad example, either. What name do you go by?”

  She cringed inwardly. “Raia. Though I don’t know-”

  “That is a Šona name, alright.” He gave a sideways glance at the mech that had landed before him. “Wheat beer.” And then he leaned toward her, rubbing at his jaw in thought. “You know, you and I have a great deal of repopulation to do. Name’s Zanda.”

  A nervous laugh escaped in spite of Raia’s best efforts to contain it. “Good to meet you, Zanda, though I’m afraid I cannot help you in your mission. I got into a fight a few years ago, and it left me too damaged to do much in the way of… repopulating.” Not that she was terribly upset about it. She had always felt awkward around children, as if neither of them could find any sort of understanding.

  The mech plonked a glass of iced liqueur before Zanda and whirred away to the next customer. “Oh,” he said, “But you can still...? Surely you can…?” He raised his eyebrows at her.

  “Presumably.”

  “Presumably? How many years have you gone without pleasure, girl? Damn, you should be grateful you met me tonight. No words and no pleasure... and getting into fights. That is not right for any of our people.” Their conversation fell to silence for some time.

  “Do you know what cada’shan means?”

  His cheeks rapidly flushed, and he looked nervously around him for witnesses. Finding none, he lowered his voice to a whisper. “It is very rude indeed. Funny you should remember that part of your heritage!”

  She smiled. Clearly she was not a terribly good example of the people she represented the last of. Raia took another sip of the over-sweet cocktail. It was time to ask the question she asked everyone she met. “Do you know anyone by the name of Ihurade?” The dead man’s face flashed before her eyes for the thousandth time.

  “Daemar Ihurade? The general? Of course. Decorated rebel leader. Trounced several of the emperor’s best – not the current emperor, you understand. Our man here recruited Daemar. Not that I know much about warfare and fighting. Not our people’s way. This recent peace is better.” He looked carefully around the room again.

  “Do you know where General Ihurade is now?”

  Zanda shrugged. “Went to ground when the battles finished. No more need for him, I suppose. Sighter Valyar will know - if you can get hold of him. Why the curiosity?”

  “A man with the Ihurade signet died at the same battle where I lost my memories. He was a warrior, a rebel and he did me a great service. I need to find the family.”

  Something flashed in the man’s eyes as he blinked. His brow creased. “And what was your role in this battle?”

  “I don’t know. I woke up with some injuries and not much else. I’m good with knives and I ran in the snow. That’s all I can tell you.”

  “Snow? A Šona woman who took up the blade…” He hopped from the bar stool and allowed his eyes to wander. “Wait there. I’ll be back soon.”

  Raia was almost glad he had left. Clearly the knives had been enough to finally put him off. Besides, she was hardly in the mood for the pleasures he wanted to offer her, whether they were for the purposes of repopulation or not. And now she had a new lead in her search for Daemar Ihurade, if, quite unfortunately, it would mean speaking to the dreaded emperor of nightmares. Wonderful.

  “Hello.”

  She turned to the source of the voice. It sounded young, very young. And it was. A little girl was grinning at her, her evening dress just as
extravagant as any adult’s. Oh, flights of atoms! Raia forced a smile onto her lips. How was she to deal with one of these things? “Hello,” she said back.

  The little girl’s grin broadened into something that was very nearly sweet. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Raia. Don’t you have any parents around here?” A quick glance across the throng revealed no likely candidates. None of them had the child’s black hair or strange eyes.

  Don’t mention the colour.

  “Nope! None here. I’m bored.”

  This was getting even better. Now she would have to return this child to her parents and entertain her along the way. No doubt the girl would throw some sort of explosive, screaming tantrum during their search. Children always seemed to like doing that around her, usually when they needed vital, life-saving medicine. “Then let’s see if we can find some for you. Do you have a name?”

  “Mia. I’m six.”

  “Come with me, Mia.” Raia took her small hand and began a circular tour of the immediate area. “Are any of these people your parents?”

  The child giggled. “No.”

  Raia widened her loop of investigation, taking care to step in and out of the guests without disturbing their groups or drinking.

  “Why are we walking in circles?”

  “You are very perceptive.”

  “What does per-sep-ty mean?”

  Raia found herself smiling. “It means you can see things that others would miss.”

  “How does your hair get so long?”

  “I grew it.” It had already been long when she had woken up in the doctor’s house, though she wondered why she had ever preferred it that way. It took hours to brush of a morning.

  They completed another, wider lap of the hall, followed by a fourth and fifth. The lanterns above sparkled with the white hiss of arcing carbon lamps and cascades of crystal, while the air-borne server mechs and secure bots cast their red eyes over the attendees. All the way Mia skipped and asked peculiar questions, or grinned inanely and exclaimed that the people around were ‘silly’. Raia was in some partial agreement on that. “Mia?”