Sands of Memory

by Melissa McShane

  Perrin smiled. “I thank you for the compliment. I am not certain it is entirely deserved. I have failed my children in the past year and more, in being forbidden to see them, and thus I have not been the father to them I would wish.”

  “That is not your fault. It is the fault of another. You did not want to not see them.”

  “That is entirely true.” Perrin swept feathers into the sack nearby and sighed. “I remember when we learned Cressida was first with child. I was twenty-four, and we had only been married a few months. I have never been so afraid in my life, not even facing monsters, as when I knew I would be a father. My own father is a cold man, lacking in natural affection, and I feared being like him. But when I held Delphine for the first time…it felt as if my heart opened up, and I knew I would do anything for her.”

  “And you feel that way even though you have not seen them in over a year.”

  “I feel that way even more because I did not see them. I watched them secretly, and prayed for their safety, and cursed my father that he kept me from them.” Perrin laughed. “Did you see that Noel had lost a tooth? His first, I believe. And when I saw him, I had the ridiculous thought that I should have been there to witness it. A tooth, Kalanath! But it represents what I believe is a father’s most vital role—to be a support and a guide to his children in their trials, however small.”

  Kalanath lowered the animal he held. “Then it is not a father who is not there for his child.”

  “Would you say I was less a father because they were kept from me?” Perrin shook his head. “A father’s desire counts for much, Kalanath. And I believe, if both hearts are willing, it is never too late to build that bond.”

  “And now we talk about me,” Kalanath said, smiling—a little sadly, Sienne thought.

  “I think,” Perrin said, “we were always talking about you.”

  Kalanath ducked his head. “I do not think of a father while I am in the temple. The old divines…they often spoke as if the will of God was my father, not a man. And then I leave the temple, and I see families, fathers and mothers and children, but it is as if they are a different world. And then your father…I think he is an evil man, but he is still a father. And Sienne’s father, who keeps her from us and then releases her, he too is a father. I do not know if I want a father, if all fathers are different. I am a man grown, not young like your Noel, so Vaishant cannot be a father like you. Maybe it is too late for us.”

  “Too late for him to be a father to the child you once were,” Perrin agreed. “But not too late to learn to be a father to the man you are.” He leaned forward. “If you could choose, what would you want your father to be? What would you want from him?”

  Kalanath looked thoughtful. “I…did not think I wanted anything,” he said, “but…I am glad he makes my mother happy. I am selfish because I do not want to share her, but that is wrong. And if I must share her, I think it is good that it is with him and not someone who is not part of us.”

  “That is how your mother benefits. I want to know what you want.”

  “I—”

  Footsteps sounded in the hall. “We tried the smithy fire,” Alaric said. He tossed the ring at Sienne, who fumbled with it before clasping it tightly. “Whatever it’s made of, the forge couldn’t burn hot enough to melt it.”

  “I may just be out of practice,” Vaishant said. “It has been many years since I was called on to exercise that youthful apprenticeship.”

  “You were doing all right. It’s the ring that’s impervious to heat.”

  Sienne looked past them to Jenani, who stood in the doorway, its silver eyes once more blank and almost malevolent. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “I didn’t think it would be so difficult,” Jenani said. “Maybe I’m wrong, and there’s no way to destroy it.”

  “Haven’t other ashwara been freed?”

  “I thought so. But those are stories—I’ve only ever heard of it at second- or third-hand.”

  Sienne stood and went to Alaric, who put his arms around her. “We’ll have to come up with something else, then.”

  “I take it you have no spell that will unmake the ring,” Perrin said, rising from the table and going to the sink to pump water over his sticky hands.

  “None that I can think of. Change only works on living things, and even if it didn’t, I don’t think transforming the ring into something else will remove the bond. Burn and scorch aren’t hot enough, and it’s not made of stone, so sculpt won’t work. If I had run—that liquefies anything inorganic, but I don’t know it.”

  “Then perhaps we need a divine solution.” Perrin dried his hands and returned to his seat. “Vaishant?”

  “I know of nothing I can ask God to do,” Vaishant said. “She will not unmake something, nor will she destroy at a man’s request—which is to say that God chooses of Her will what to turn Her power against. To give that power to a human, even temporarily, would invite disaster.”

  “Couldn’t you pray for a solution? You know, ask God what She thinks we should do?” Sienne asked.

  Vaishant shook his head. “I am not so far along in my worship to do such a thing.”

  “But Perrin does it all the time,” Dianthe said, then blushed. “I mean—I don’t mean to imply—oh, let’s forget I said that, all right?”

  “The worship of avatars is different from mine,” Vaishant said with a smile, “and no one knows the full extent of those differences. It is entirely possible that things forbidden to me are allowed to you.”

  Perrin cleared his throat. “I, also, know of no solution to this problem. But Averran in his wisdom sees farther than we do, and I have no doubt he knows what it will take to destroy this ring. Whether he will share his wisdom with us, I have no idea, but I am willing to attempt it in the morning. The late morning. Which reminds me, did any of you find coffee in that mansion of a pantry?”

  Ghrita produced a dinner of roasted chicken turned bright red by its seasonings that, with steaming rice and fragrant flatbreads, filled all of them to satisfaction. Sienne leaned against Alaric and sighed. “It’s so nice to have a meal not flavored with sand.”

  “I was going to suggest that we tackle the temple again this evening, but I’m too full,” he replied. “And I think we could all use the rest.”

  “I can show you where the bedrooms are,” Jenani said. It had sat with them through the meal, but ate nothing and spoke little. Sienne thought it looked tired, too, though probably ashwara didn’t feel fatigue the way humans did. “There are many.”

  “Whose design was the palace?” Dianthe said. “The dungeon didn’t seem Omeiran.”

  “I entertained myself in drawing from many different palaces I’ve seen over the years.” Jenani floated off its seat and drifted toward the fireplace. “I have so few avenues for entertainment. And Dari didn’t forbid it, just asked for a palace.”

  “But you could have left much of it unfinished, the way you did the city,” Sienne said.

  Jenani shrugged. “I built the palace first, and by the time I came to build the city, I was bored. And it seemed such a waste by then, building things that no one would use. Dari’s imagination was naturally that of a nine-year-old boy—he knew nothing of architecture or craftsmanship. Tedious.”

  Sienne fiddled with the ring on her finger. “Is that better, or worse, than if you have a master who does know those things and puts more constraints on you?” The ring on her finger. When had she put it on? She slipped it off and tucked it away in her belt pouch.

  Jenani regarded her closely. “Better not to have a master at all, but you know that. I don’t know. I suppose I enjoyed serving men or women who had imagination. The worst were the ones whose only thought was war, or conquering others. Evil is really quite banal, if you think about it—every person with a dark soul ultimately comes up with the same ways of hurting others. It’s probably a good thing. The last thing the world needs is a creative villain.”

  “No villains at all would suit me,” A
laric said. “Many bedrooms, you said?”

  They followed Jenani out of the kitchen wing and past the dungeons, up the stairs Dianthe had discovered in their escape from the harem, and into a luxurious interconnected set of corridors. “Many” turned out to be an understatement; there were at least a dozen suites, all resplendent with gilding and rich fabrics, all uniquely decorated. “Jenani, these are beautiful,” Sienne exclaimed. “You have a wonderful imagination.”

  Jenani smiled. “Rest well, and…is it too eager to ask when you will pray for this blessing?”

  “Not at all,” Perrin said. “After breakfast, probably well after breakfast. Averran does not respond well to requests made before ten o’clock in the morning, and for this, I think we should not impose upon his rather crotchety good nature.”

  “I will join you then. And…thank you, all of you.” Jenani’s body faded, dissipated, and was gone.

  “That should have been more unsettling than it was,” Perrin said. “I daresay one may become accustomed to anything, yes?”

  “Then I think we should investigate the temple before Perrin prays in the morning,” Dianthe said. “If nothing else, I’d like to find the phoenix feather.”

  “I should see if mirage really will work,” Sienne said. “But I don’t know how much more preparation the ritual will require.”

  “Then we have a plan,” Alaric said. He took Sienne’s hand and drew her through the door of the suite they’d chosen. “Good night, everyone.”

  Sienne closed the door behind them and squeaked as Alaric pushed her up against it, kissing her breathless. “Everyone knows what we’re doing,” she said between kisses.

  “I don’t give a damn what they know,” he murmured, gathering up her robe so he could pull it off over her head, then tearing off his own. “We have a bed, we have privacy, we have nothing but time, and I’ve never wanted you more than I do right now.”

  She shivered at the intensity in his voice. “In that case,” she said, her hands moving to the front of his trousers, “you are wearing far too many clothes.”

  18

  Sienne left Alaric sleeping the next morning and found her way, with only a few false turns, back to the kitchens. She built up the fire and set water heating for porridge and coffee, grinding the latter in a coffee grinder bigger than she’d ever seen before. Whoever had originally used the kitchen Jenani had drawn his inspiration from must have been used to cooking for an army.

  “Is this something you do all the time?” Jenani said. Sienne let out a squeak of surprise and turned to see the ashwar floating near the fireplace.

  “You mean, breakfast? When we’re out in the wilderness, I usually do. It’s a habit now.”

  “Where is the wilderness?”

  “Mmm? Oh. It’s…well, outside civilization. The Empty Lands. Not everything was resettled after civilization collapsed all those centuries ago.”

  Jenani drifted nearer. “You say such strange things. What civilization collapsed? Is that why there are no more Ginatese?”

  “Yes. All that’s left of their civilization are some ruins and parts of their language. And the monsters created by their wars.”

  “I have been gone so long…” Jenani sat on a chair near Sienne and folded its arms on the table top. “I don’t remember the Ginatese using spellbooks like yours. Their magic was different.”

  “We don’t know much about how they cast spells, except that they used the four—I mean five—spell languages. Sometimes we, I mean the Rafellish, not our team, find lost spells. Though our team did find one recently. But—you’ve seen the ancients! You probably know far more than I do.”

  “Not as much as you think. I never had a wizard like you as a master. How do you become a wizard?”

  “You have to be born able to do magic. And then you go to school to learn wizardry—the spell languages, and how to control them.”

  “I see.” It was hard to read the silver eyes, but Jenani appeared to be looking far into the distance rather than at Sienne. “And no one who isn’t born wielding magic can become a wizard.”

  “Right. Why do you ask? Were the Ginatese different?”

  “Oh—no, no different, as far as I know. They cast spells, used rituals. What is this ritual you intend to perform?”

  Startled at the sudden change of subject, Sienne hesitated. She was used to thinking of Alaric’s quest as a secret, but Ghrita and Vaishant knew about it, and it wasn’t as if Jenani were going to tell anyone. “It will make Alaric a full Sassaven,” she said. “That’s his race, Sassaven. They’re enslaved by an evil wizard and we’re trying to free them, and this is the next step.”

  “I’ve never heard of the Sassaven.” Jenani’s quiet curiosity relieved Sienne’s mind. “What is a full Sassaven?”

  “It means he’ll have access to magical powers. All the adults of his race go through the ritual, but for them, it’s combined with binding magic to tie them to the wizard.”

  “Interesting. So it will open his magical potential.”

  “I…guess you could call it that, yes.” Jenani was once more looking off into the distance. Sienne got up and stirred the porridge, wishing she knew what the ashwar was thinking. “Anyway, once we do that, we have to figure out how to break the binding ritual, so the Sassaven keep their magical abilities, but aren’t slaves.”

  “What does the binding ritual look like?”

  “It’s too complicated for me to describe in detail. The two participants draw symbols on each other’s hands, in blood, and they’re joined by something symbolic, like a silver chain. Then there are words they have to say, and a cup they drink from.”

  “I’ve seen it done. The Ginatese used many different binding rituals, or maybe you could say they had many variations on the binding ritual—”

  “You’ve seen it done?” Sienne exclaimed, dropping her spoon into the porridge, where it sank out of sight. “But—do you know how to break it?”

  Jenani shook its head. “In theory, you would need to recreate the binding ritual, and then break it—cut the chain and speak words of releasing rather than binding. But that’s just an informed guess. Though I do have some experience with binding magic.” Its smile went crooked, self-deprecating.

  “That’s more than we’ve ever had before. Thank you.”

  “It’s a small thing I can do to repay you if you free me.”

  Sienne used another long-handled spoon to fish the first out of the depths of the porridge. “We will. I’m sure Averran will grant us the right blessing.”

  “You have great faith in your God.”

  “Not really. I’ve only become a worshipper in the last few months, and I don’t know how devout I am. I just know Averran has saved my life, and my friends’ lives, time and again, and I feel I’ve been touched by his presence when I pray.”

  “I imagine that’s how faith begins. Ashwara don’t have gods.”

  “So who created you? Wasn’t that God?”

  Jenani shrugged. “I’m not interested in the answer to that question. Whoever created us made us vulnerable to being trapped, and I feel no loyalty toward whoever could do that.”

  “I…guess that makes sense. Though Perrin would say God probably had a reason for it.”

  “What would Perrin say?” Perrin said, following Dianthe through the door. “Praise Averran, you have made coffee. May you be thrice blessed.”

  “I was just saying you’d say God has reasons for the things She does, even when we think they’re hard on us.”

  Perrin poured himself a steaming cup of coffee and drank it down, pitch black. “That is true. God’s will is sometimes difficult to ascertain, and She gives humans free will with which to thwart Hers, to an extent. She will never force us to follow Her plan, however much happier we will be in the end. Is there something in particular you had in mind?”

  “Please, for the love of Kitane, no theological discussions before breakfast,” Dianthe moaned.

  “We were talking about whet
her the ashwara were created by God.” Sienne hauled out a frying pan and set it on to heat.

  “That, I would not care to speculate on,” Perrin said. “So many creatures came into being due to human intervention, or arose spontaneously from the residual magic of the wars, that the best anyone can say is that God permitted those creatures to be created. But I do not think that puts them beyond God’s mercy. Think of the werebears.”

  “What are werebears?” Jenani said.

  Sienne perked up. “That’s a good example. They’re intelligent magical creatures, like you, Jenani, and Averran blessed them with healing when they needed it. Which is like saying God cares about them, too.”

  “And you think God cares about me,” Jenani said.

  “I think it’s possible. So maybe it doesn’t matter who created you. Maybe it’s more about what you do with your life. Once you’re free, I mean.”

  Jenani frowned. “I…wish to think about that,” it said, and turned cloudy and then vanished.

  “Heavy discussion for the start of a new day,” Perrin said.

  “It didn’t start out that way.” Sienne cracked eggs into the hot pan. “I hope I didn’t offend it. I still don’t understand religion very well myself.”

  “It did not look offended, though I realize it’s hard to tell.” Perrin poured another cup of coffee. “I have not seen Vaishant or Kalanath. Or Ghrita.”

  “Kalanath and Ghrita are probably practicing, and it wouldn’t surprise me if Vaishant were praying somewhere.” Dianthe scooped up a bowlful of porridge and returned to her seat. “Though Alaric must have had quite a night, not to be awake yet.”

  Sienne blushed, but said nothing. Dianthe grinned.

  Kalanath and Ghrita appeared in the doorway. “Ah, porridge, thank you, Sienne,” Kalanath said, heading for the pot.

  “Yes, thank you, Sienne,” Ghrita said, helping herself to two eggs from the frying pan.

  “Those are for Alaric,” Sienne said.

  “He’s not here. And I’m sure he’d prefer fresh ones.” Ghrita smiled, her eyes alight with a hint of malice. It felt like an insult, but one so subtle Sienne couldn’t figure out what. Fuming at not being able to respond, she cracked more eggs and ignored Ghrita. She couldn’t react without Ghrita pretending innocence and making Sienne look foolish, but the instant the woman said something directly cutting, Sienne was going to tear her apart. Until then…she tried not to feel too relieved at the thought that Alaric might do it for her.