The Chain That Was Cut

The narrow lanes branched like spiderwebs, cramped and tangled with market stalls and the displays set out before the shops. The shops themselves were every bit as varied: drapers selling cords worked in lavish patterns and cloth woven of wool; grocers whose bowls brimmed with fruit and grain; street vendors wrapping haunches of pork the size of a small child, and roasted lamb, in thin bread; cookshops offering boiled offal stuffed with blood, and rice stir-fried with fatback and vegetables.

A short while later they reached a street steeped in the smell of medicinal herbs. Ilesin made for the cleanest building among them. Beneath the broad window that faced the street, crafted wares were set out in abundance, and a flower bed had been tended beside the door. He pulled the bell-cord hanging next to a doorplate painted with flowers and birds. The door opened, and a tall woman stepped out—slender-faced, her skin pale as paper.

"Hello, Sekiana."

"Ilesin!"

"And this is Artila."

He set a hand on Artila's shoulder and eased her forward toward Sekiana. Artila dipped her head in greeting. Sekiana smiled brightly.

"Welcome. I heard the situation from Zeldia. Everything's ready—you only have to come in. I'm Sekiana, a spiritist, same as Zeldia."

Two brown dogs sprawled in the parlor thumped their tails as the visitors entered. Sekiana, who had gone into the workroom, returned with several glass bottles and a white porcelain dish of powder. When she set the powder alight, a blue flame leapt up.

Artila asked quietly, "Don't you need to hear more about me?"

"For now: memories of knowledge, yes; memories built from experience, no. Nothing recent, but things from the very distant past—yes. About that much? If there's anything else I ought to know, tell me."

"No. That's all of it. I truly don't remember anything."

Artila bowed her head. "Please—I'm in your hands."

"I'll take the request, but it may not work. Here. Sit."

Artila lowered herself carefully onto the small chair Sekiana indicated. Sekiana lit the powder in the prepared bowl, and a blue flame shot upward.

"Your memories seem broken in places."

"Broken?"

"Yes. The causality is gone. The chain that links one event to the next has vanished, so the memories themselves never surface at all. That's also why your memories of knowledge keep growing clearer. Knowledge reconnects easily—read a book, or recall something you've learned, and the broken places join again without much trouble. Personal memory can't do that. So the working I've prepared for you is meant to call up every fragment that has no causality left in it. Like a dream."

"Then the memories come back?"

"They don't come back. But you can infer. There is no whole picture, only the parts—and from the parts you can guess, roughly, what the original was. Months have passed, and not a single memory has returned on its own. That means they will not restore themselves. The best we can do is force those fragments to the surface somehow, and reason from them."

"Is there no way to learn why they vanished?"

"Impossible, unless you remember it yourself."

Only her tone and her expression were gentle. Everything Sekiana actually said was cold and final. She was not a woman to offer hasty hope—and she was sharp enough to pull even the smallest sprout of expectation cleanly up by the roots.

"When will the fragments surface?"

"By my present reckoning, anywhere from a few hours to a day. I can't be certain. You're the first guest I've had who lost her memory."

"...If people who lose their memories were common, I suppose that would be a problem of its own."

Smoke curling off the burning powder wound around Artila. She swallowed the draught Sekiana gave her and watched it rise.

"Artila only has to wait. Ilesin—nothing you want to ask?"

"There is."

The moment he started to rise, the dogs whined and plastered themselves against him. He had to sit back down.

"Spoiled, the pair of them."

"They only get like this when a stranger comes. Useless for watching the house, but they adore everyone who visits. Go on, ask."

"What showed up in the coastal region? I heard it was a demon."

"They must have called it a demon because it was a monster no one had seen before. If it had been a true demon... could he really have come back?"

By he, she could only mean Ilesin's father. If even an outsider judged him that way, then hope was something to be discarded entirely.

"They say it was extremely cunning. It looked so little different from a person that they took it for human. Then it turned out to have horns and wings."

"Enough to look like a demon."

"Yes. A demon out of a picture book. With what happened in Moravik as well, everyone seems frightened. The demons people gawk at around here are only the very occasional ancient ones. So it may simply be that the moment something has wings, they raise a clamor and call it a demon. I didn't see it myself, of course, so I can't be sure."

While she spoke, the powder burned down to nothing. The draught inside Artila dissolved with it, and a heat flared through her chest.

"That's the end of it. Go home and rest."

Sekiana tossed what remained—only ash—into the fireplace. The ash billowed thick and was drawn up the chimney. She held out her hand, and Ilesin set five silver coins in her palm. Startled, Artila asked at once, "You're paying her?"

"I never said it was free."

"You might have told me. I would have brought money."

"Money spent on you is an investment in our strength. And you already paid your share properly on the way here."

"It wasn't anything so grand. You had me running for my life."

"You're the one who had me running for my life."

When Ilesin stood, the dogs set up their whining again. He caught their leashes and handed them to Sekiana.

"Thanks for the work, Seki."

"It's work I'm paid for. Zeldia asked specially, too. Something about reinforcing the staff, she said."

"Zeldia must have had a hard time of it."

"She did. Treating the wounded after the war was especially difficult, she told me."

"Hard to find anyone who could treat them. And even when you found someone, they weren't properly trained. It would be good if you came, Sekiana—but you won't, will you?"

"I can't. And the Lord of Findrak wouldn't tell me to go, either."

"Still only that old mage?"

"Yes. When he retires, that's the end of it. There are no mages here. That's why the Lord of Findrak is frightened out of his wits. He's grown extremely sensitive, so be careful. He'll grab hold of you and beg you to stay."

"I'll be careful."

Sekiana saw them to the door, then went back inside. The dogs scratched frantically at the closed door and earned themselves a scolding.

Once they were out on the street, Artila said, "The treatment itself was simple. I'm worried because I have no idea what happens from here."

"Are you a little worried too?"

"Not a little." Ilesin said it with a smile in his eyes. "A lot."

"Then I suppose I should shut myself up in the house. Beni offered to show me around, but I'll have to give that up."

"I'll have them prepare something good."

"Please do. I'll be eating well, so you work hard at borrowing troops while you're here. Let's both succeed."

By the time they returned, the sun had set, and lamps were lit here and there through the mansion. A servant came to meet them. Artila pointed toward the ceiling.

"I'll be in the room until dinner."

"I'll send someone for you as soon as it's ready."

"All right."

Back in her room, Artila opened the notebook Hisnil had given her. Once the weight she had felt at first sight eased a little, she could begin to make out what sort of formulas they were. A few more readings, and she thought she might actually be able to work the magic. Then came a knock.

"Come in."

The maid who entered set a set of clothes before her. "Lady Beni has sent a dress. She asks that you wear it to the evening meal. I'll help you."

"Is it complicated enough that I need help?"

"Lady Beni gave me special instructions. She said the clothes would be unfamiliar to an outsider, and you wouldn't know how to put them on. They aren't uncomfortable."

It was a billowy blouse and a red skirt worked with splendid embroidery. Artila put the blouse on as the maid directed, and the maid spread the skirt and wrapped it around her. Extraordinarily ornate stitching covered the blouse's front panel and sleeves. With the comb she had brought, the maid brushed out Artila's abundant hair, braided it neatly, and bound the braid with a cord.

"You may go down to the hall on the first floor now. Lady Beni is waiting."

Artila gathered the skirt and tried a few steps. It was long, but not uncomfortable. She had always worn trousers and so had never known—but the Artila of the past, it seemed, had been more accustomed to skirts.

Down in the first-floor hall, food crowded an enormous oak table. The smell of it reached her, and hunger made her want to eat at once.

"Artila! Over here!"

Beni, already waiting, waved. Ilesin and the knights of the house sat around her. He had changed out of his traveling clothes into a deep brown suit. In the foreign cut, with his white skin and smooth face, he looked like a prince from some far country.

The moment Artila sat beside her, Beni asked, "What did Sekiana say? Any hope?"

"She can only make the memories surface piece by piece, then roughly fit them together."

"Really? That's a shame."

"There's still hope, though. A great many memories might come up."

Large platters came out, and the meal began. Servants carved the whole roast and portioned it to those who held out their plates. Then came a bake of thin dough filled with stir-fried meat and cooked in the oven; a servant cut the crust with a broad knife, and fried meat and rice spilled from inside. He scooped it with a large spatula onto a plate and passed it to Artila. She ate with the wooden spoon set beside her.

"Well?" Beni asked.

"It's delicious."

Rich as the dish was, eaten with firm bread it was wonderfully good.

"I was worried northern cooking wouldn't suit you. I'm glad. And the clothes suit you perfectly. You're lovely. For the celebration after tomorrow's assembly, I'll lend you something even grander. Everyone will be struck dumb when they see you."

Artila waved her off. "No. The treatment is... unpredictable, so I've decided to stay in my room the whole time I'm here."

"Wait—why?"

"I don't know when the memories will come back. I'd surely look like someone strange, and I can't have people saying Ilesin brought a madwoman with him."

"Really? That's a shame."

Ilesin said, "I mean to stay in today and tomorrow as well. I'll have to go out and meet the councilors before the session, but that can't be helped."

"The Lord of Findrak will be disappointed. He's hosting the banquet, and he's looking forward to it no end."

"Beni, please. I want to see that man as little as possible. The moment he lays eyes on me, both of his start burning. Sekiana warned me too. She said if our eyes so much as meet, he'll throw himself at me and beg for help."

"He has no children. If you'd accepted the offer to be adopted back then, the lordship of Findrak wouldn't have been so far off. Why didn't you?"

"And you say that, when the one who'd fight it hardest is under this very roof."

A servant came in then, looking for Beni. "Lady Beni!"

"What is it?"

"Lord Bram has returned."

For a moment everyone went quiet. Artila, midway through tearing into her meat, glanced around. If this was the welcome a person of rank received, then by the look of things that person of rank was Ilesin and Beni's father.

"Only... his lordship says he caught something and brought it back, and when he heard that Lord Ilesin had arrived..."

Ilesin lifted the wineglass at Artila's side, drained it in a single swallow, and said, "He heard—now finish the sentence."