“Oh! It’s only you! You miserable pup! You should not wake an old man in such a fashion!”
“I knew it would be the easiest way to rouse you, Porfino.” He smiled as the old man shook his head and put down his weapon. “Do you have anything new today?”
“Hmmpf! If I did, I shouldn’t show it to you anyway!”
“Does that mean you do have something?”
“Well, yes. But I don’t think I’ll let you see it. And what’s the point? You never have any money to buy.” He started to turn away.
“You show things to me because you love to talk about them—and I’m the only one who will listen to you.”
“Not the only one,” said Porfino, turning back again. “But you are the only one in the shop at this moment, so I suppose I’ll have to talk to you. But why are you all dressed up? I haven’t seen you in your robes in months.”
“I meet with Hano in an hour. I’m not looking forward to it.”
“An hour, eh? Then I best show you my new acquisition now.” The old man raised a bushy eyebrow and cracked a smile.
“Exactly. What have you got?”
“Oh, something splendid. Hardly damaged at all!” The old man went through the curtain and disappeared into the back room for a moment, talking all the while. In a moment, he reemerged with a lacquered wooden box. He shoved a few things aside on a table and set the box down. He opened it and triumphantly withdrew his new treasure. Jarren’s eyes widened when he saw it. An exquisitely crafted dancing girl, perhaps six inches tall, stood on a marble pedestal half that height. The doll was dressed in a fashion that suggested the desert realms to the southwest, across the sea.
“Very nice,” said Jarren. “But is it…magical?”
“Of course! I’d not be showing it to you if it was not! Here, watch.” The old man touched a round gold plate set into the side of the pedestal. For a moment nothing happened, but then the tiny figure began to move and a strange but energetic music played. Jarren loved all kinds of music, but he had never heard anything quite like this before. Clearly this came from a long way off. He leaned close to get a good look. The workmanship was truly marvelous. He could barely make out the joints on the limbs, and the motion was entirely natural. And it was not some clever clockwork mechanism driving it. The doll spun and twirled and leapt into the air, fully two inches above the pedestal with nothing connecting it at all. Then the doll was…what was it…?
“Oh my,” said Jarren, blushing.
“Clearly the private toy of some nobleman,” said Porfino with a straight face. The doll was discarding its clothes, one piece at a time. As each item was pulled off, it simply vanished. The detailing beneath the clothes was entirely… realistic. Eventually, only a red scarf was tied about its hips. Jarren blinked when the doll seemed about to tug away that last piece and was suddenly standing there, fully clothed, just like he had first seen it.
“As I said, almost entirely undamaged,” said Porfino. “But the motivating spell is unraveling from the end, I fear. When I first saw this, she went a tiny bit farther in her dance than you just saw.”
“A pity,” said Jarren. “But Porfino, this is wonderful! Surely the finest piece in your collection!”
“Yes, it is. I’d almost hate to sell it. But I must get back what I paid for it—and a bit more. And I know someone who will be glad to pay for such a toy.”
“Surely you will let me study it before you do!”
“Perhaps I could hold it for a week or so. But no longer. And I can’t have it perform more than once or twice more for you. The spell is too fragile. If it unravels entirely, I’ll be out all that I paid.”
“I understand. But where did you get this? Where do you think it was made? Are there any makers’ marks on it?”
“There may be something on the underside. Here, let me show you…”
They were still discussing the possible origins of the toy when the plaza clock struck two. It took a few moments for the sound to register on Jarren’s consciousness, but when it did, he jerked erect.
“By all the gods! I’m late!” he cried.
“Well then, off with you!” said Porfino. “This will still be here when you get back.”
Jarren rushed out of the shop and returned an instant later to grab his portfolio. Then he ran along the alley and back up the street to the plaza. He threaded his way through the crowd, jostling one old man accidentally in his haste. He called an apology over his shoulder and blanched when he noticed the man’s priestly robes. But he did not stop; instead, he hurried on. Hano was going to be angry—and he so needed him to be in a good mood! The university was almost a mile away, and despite all his efforts, it was half past the hour before he stumbled, panting, into Master Hano Beredane’s office. The scholar scowled at him through his spectacles and twitched his thick white eyebrows.
“Mister Carabello, you are a passed student and a candidate for master’s training. I would have thought that somewhere during your years here at the university you would have learned to tell time.”
“I’m sorry, Master Beredane. I was delayed,” gasped Jarren.
“Obviously. But now that you are here, perhaps we can discuss this absurd proposal you have sent me for the future course of your study. Please sit down.”
Jarren found a seat, but he had to evict a large black-and-white cat to actually sit in it. There were several other chairs in the stuffy room, but all were piled with books and papers. As he sat there catching his breath, he was struck by how much Beredane’s office looked like Porfino’s shop. More books and papers and fewer trinkets and toys, but the same seeming lack of order.
“I’m sorry you consider my proposal ‘absurd’, sir,” said Jarren.
“Well, I can’t think of any other word for it that fits. And this is very disappointing. You were one of my best students, and I had such high hopes for you. Granted that even then, you wasted an inordinate amount of time on this ‘hobby’ of yours.”
“It is not a hobby, sir! It is a legitimate—and terribly neglected—field of research. If you’ve read my proposal…”
“I have read it. Don’t presume to be insolent with me, young Jarren!” He took up a sheaf of papers from his desk. “The Scientific Basis for Magical Spells and Devices: A proposal for Master’s Study by Jarren Carabello,” quoted Beredane. “I have read every word of this—much to my dismay.”
“If you have read it, then I cannot understand why you don’t see the merit in this, sir! A whole field of science that no one has…”
“Science!” snorted Beredane. “I’ve heard it called many things by many people, but never science!”
“It is a physical part of our world, sir! Magic exists! Can there be any doubt of that? If it exists, it must obey the laws of science! I learned that much from you in my years here.”
Beredane frowned and shoved his spectacles back up on his rather large nose. “If it does exist, it is dying, Jarren. Fading out of the world. The age of science and reason is replacing magic and superstition. I don’t know why; if you listen to the priests, it’s because the gods have willed it to be so, but there it is. Why waste your skills on something that will soon be gone? Better study dead languages! At least there are still things to be learned from those ancient texts.”
“Sir, magic is fading only because those that knew how to wield it have nearly all died out. All the greatest masters died at the Battle of Soor, three hundred years ago, and none have come forth to replace them. But that does not mean they can never be replaced. And there could be so much to learn. Look, sir.” Jarren rummaged in the pocket of his robes and pulled out what looked like a small brass candlestick with a smooth glass ball on the top. He set it on Beredane’s table and touched a certain spot on it. After a few moments, the glass ball began to glow with a soft light. “You’ve seen such things before, sir. I bought this from a fresco painter. They covet them because of the pure light it gives with no soot from burning wax or oil. Touch it. There is no heat, but ther
e is light. How? Magic, you say, and so it is. But how does it work? I am convinced that whatever creates this light obeys the same rules as everything else in our world. The same rules as Darvanor has divined for planetary motion, the same rules as Letour’s theory on the differentiation of plant species, and the same rules as your new mathematics. The same! We just have not learned what those rules are. Please, sir. All I ask is a chance to prove it.”
Beredane’s frown became even deeper, and he removed his spectacles and rubbed the side of his nose. “Botheration. You could argue a leopard into giving up its spots. All right. I suppose every young man is due his measure of folly. I suppose it could be worse. You could be wasting yourself on women or gambling. Very well. I will give you a year. One year, mind you! After that—once you see how fruitless this all is—I’ll expect you to give up on this nonsense and apply yourself as I direct.”
“One year, sir? I’ll need to travel a great deal. Three would be a fairer test.”
“Travel, is it? And I suppose you expect the university to pay for your travel?”
“It is customary for scholars, sir.”
“For scholars doing something useful!” Beredane sighed and glared at Jarren. “Very well, two years. And don’t ask for anything else or I’ll change my mind!”
Jarren’s face broke into a smile. This had gone far better than he had expected. “Thank you, sir. I promise you won’t regret it.”
* * * * *
Lieutenant Mattin Krasner shifted in his saddle and tried to find some spot on his posterior that had not been chaffed raw on which to rest his weight. Failing at that, he stood up in his stirrups for a few minutes until his legs began to ache and he had to sit again. Maybe he should get down and walk for a while even though the blisters from his riding boots hurt as much as his ass. Twenty days! Twenty days of this agony. He’d never made a ride like this in all his short life. Hell, neither had any of the other men in the regiment, even though some were over three times his age. And that after a two-week sea voyage and another ten days by river barge!
The column of cavalry stretched out of sight in both directions as it wound its way through the hills on the dirt road. The dust was thick in the air. And on him. Matt’s white uniform coat was looking rather pink with the reddish dust, and the blue facings were looking purple. He did not want to think about how much dust had settled into the folds of his tricorn hat. Only his buff breeches looked anything like normal. And there seemed to be no end to the journey. The mountains marched away on each side. They went on and on…
“Riding to the edge of the world and beyond,” he muttered. “How’d I ever get into this mess?”
“What was that, Matt, old boy? Some word of discouragement? Don’t tell me you’re getting tired already? Haven’t you been told that the 6th Dragoons never tire?” Matt turned in the saddle and saw that Lieutenant Phell Gerowst had come up behind him. Gerowst was his senior, three years older, and was always infuriatingly cheerful.
“But we’re not the 6th anymore,” growled Matt.
“Don’t let the captain hear you say that! He’ll tear the skin right off you.”
“Too late. This blasted saddle has already done it for him.” Gerowst chuckled and Matt frowned. “I don’t see how you can take this all so calmly! Here we are: traded to the King of Berssia! The whole regiment! Traded for a damn bunch of tapestries! Like we are slaves that can be bought and sold.”
“Well, the elector liked the tapestries a lot, I suppose. And I hear they really are excellent work—not that we’ll ever see them.”
“That’s not the point! We are soldiers, not slaves, nor mercenaries. And we were sworn to the Elector of Naravia…”
“And now we’re sworn to the King of Berssia,” said Gerowst. “What difference does it make?”
“What difference! Look around you!” Matt swung his hand in an arc. “Exiled to the edge of creation! Mountains and desert and snakes and scorpions! Not even a sign of civilization. I can’t understand why you aren’t as angry as the rest of us.”
“Civilization was getting a little uncomfortable for me,” said Gerowst with a grin. “My bloody creditors had the gall to actually expect me to pay them. The nerve! They were even making threats about going to the magistrate. The peasants! Imagine them trying to haul a Gerowst up before a damn magistrate. Well! That wouldn’t do at all, so this little relocation is not at all inconvenient. I doubt very much that those bastards will try to follow me all the way out here!”
Matt digested this and revised his plan to ask Gerowst for a loan. “But I thought you had a girl back home.”
“I did. Several of them, actually. But they’ll find other lovers—and I’ll find other girls.”
“Out here? Where?”
“Oh, I’m quite sure there will be plenty around. The girls always seem to find out where the men are staying. And I understand there’s a considerable town attached to this fort we’re heading for. Anyway, there are always alternatives. Speaking of which, how’s that cute little sister of yours doing on this trip?”
Matt jerked his head around to look at Gerowst. “She’s doing fine—and she’s only fourteen!” he blurted. He opened his mouth to add: So you keep your hands off of her! But snapped it shut when he recalled that Gerowst outranked him. The man threw back his head and laughed.
“Don’t worry, Matt! I’m not going to seduce her or ravish her. My tastes run to more mature women. But not everyone is as principled as I am. You are going to have to post a guard on her—and then guard the guard.”
Gerowst was still laughing as he spurred his horse and pulled ahead of Matt. The younger man was still frowning. He had noticed some of the other officers—and even a few enlisted men—staring at his sister when they thought that she—and he—weren’t looking. And she was awfully cute. She would be beautiful when she got older—just like mother had been. She was already starting to blossom. Maybe he should have a word with her. He had not talked to her at all since morning. He got permission from the captain to go back to the tail of the column and turned his horse around.
The regiment made a long column. Five hundred troopers and then a huge baggage train took up nearly two miles of the road. They had been even longer when they had started. Over a hundred men had contrived to desert once they realized where they were really heading. Two had gone just yesterday, although without their horses. Matt could not imagine where they would run to in this wilderness. But the march discipline was very strict, and the officers and NCOs hard pressed to keep it so.
He drifted back to the baggage train and looked for the wagon with his sister and all their belongings. Eventually he spotted it, although his sister was not in sight. The driver—an old veteran missing a hand—nodded when he saw him.
“Where is my sister?”
The man jerked his head toward the enclosed rear of the wagon. “Sleepin’, I think, sir.”
“Kareen? Are you in there?” shouted Matt above the creak and clatter of the wagons. Immediately, the canvas flap flipped open and his sister’s head popped out.
“Yes, I am, and no, I was not sleeping, Cofo!” She stuck her tongue out at the driver, who took no notice. “I was just trying to get away from some of the dust. It has gotten into everything!”
“I know. Better get used to it.”
“But I thought we were supposed to arrive at the fort today.”
“We are, but with the prevailing west wind off the plains, I imagine it will be as dusty there as it is here.”
“Pooh! I was hoping for an exotic western city with an oasis all around it. Green grass and flowing water.”
“Sorry, sis. I don’t think it will be like that.” He hesitated for a moment. “And I’m sorry dragging you all the way out here.”
“We’ve discussed this before, brother dear. There was no choice for either of us. Father used almost everything he had buying your commission. Once he died, you were stuck with the army. Just bad luck that your regiment got sent here.”
>
“But I should not have brought you along. I should have…”
“What? Left me with Granduncle Fervus? There was no chance he was going to provide a dowry for me, so what sort of future would I have had? And that old lecher was staring down my dress before I had anything for him to see.”
“Kareen!” cried Matt in embarrassment.
“See? I’m adapting to army life. I’m already talking like Cofo.”
Matt turned to stare at the old soldier and was rewarded by seeing his face slowly turn red. After a moment, Matt turned back to his sister. “Actually, that was something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“About men staring down my dress? Well, a lot more have been doing that lately. Or do you mean about some dashing young soldier sweeping me off my feet and then making passionate love to me?”
“Kareen! Stop that!”
“Small chance of that,” muttered Cofo, “I’ve had to put up with it for three weeks.”
“You will behave like a lady, Kareen!” said Matt, glaring at Cofo in turn.
“Oh, very well. But, Matt, who else am I going to marry if not a soldier? I know it’s not going to happen for a few years yet, but it will happen.”
“To the right man! An officer!”
“Well of course! I would not settle for less. Maybe someone like your friend Phell…”
“What! That rake? You stay away from him.”
“But he’s so handsome. I think he’d make a fine husband.” Kareen tilted her head, clasped her hands next to her cheek, and looked off in to the distance with an expression of stupid contentment.
“Kareen…”
“All right, all right. He’s a pompous twit and I’ll stay away from him. But there’s bound to be—oh! Look there!”
Matt turned in his saddle and followed his sister’s pointing finger. The column had topped a rise and a sudden breeze had pulled away the curtain of dust. Spread out below them was a small town of adobe buildings, and on a hill to the south was their destination: Fort Pollentia, westernmost possession of King Edgarn IV of Berssia. The fort was a large sprawling structure whose guns could command the entire pass through the mountains.
Fires of Memory Page 2
