I nearly jumped out of the saddle. Even though she kept her voice low, I had been dozing deeply enough to miss Skeelana riding up alongside me.
“What? What did you-”
She smiled. “To be accurate, you’ve probably pulled it countless times now. The trigger, that is. But only a handful in battle, by your own admission. And only twice that ended someone’s life. So, sympathetically, I can’t help wondering-was it easier the second time? Or do you feel worse?”
I looked at her. Several pins in her hair glinted before winking out as some clouds draped the moon completely. “Well, perhaps next time we are stuck in battle, you might lend a hand. Find out for yourself.”
She shrugged. “Like I told you, I’m no war Memoridon. I wouldn’t even wear this stupid suroka, except it’s mandated. Far more likely to stab myself with it than anyone else.”
“Well, I’m a clumsy scribe, but pulling that trigger kept me alive, and might have done the same for someone else.”
“So you feel good about it then?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t say that. I feel awful, in fact.”
Skeelana considered that. “But better to be alive and feel horrible about what you did than the alternative, right?”
“Back in Alespell, you defended yourself when you had no choice. Maybe you didn’t draw blood with steel, but you defended yourself, and took a life. How do you feel?”
It looked like she had a small smile on her face. “Awful, in fact. I’d say that speaks well of us, really. We should feel awful. Killing another person, no matter the circumstance, well, it’s no walk on rose petals, is it? But what I’m asking is, now that you’ve done it twice, was it easier? The second time?”
I pulled a flask off my belt, uncorked the bottle, and drank some stale water before answering. Skeelana declined my offer and I slipped the stopper back in, thinking about the best way to put it, to capture some part of my feelings. “The man-the men, now-the men I killed or helped dispatch, they weren’t just alive. They had lives. Friends, families, dreams, fears, secrets. Things they hoped to do and never would have the chance now, things they wished they hadn’t done and lost the opportunity to atone for. I’m grateful I am not afflicted like Captain Killcoin. Thanks to Bloodsounder, he knows more about the men he killed then some of those in his own company, maybe even his personal retinue.
“But even without being privy to all those awful personal details of the men killed, it’s still impossible not to think of everything you ended. All with a simple blow, or worse, the squeeze of a long steel trigger. So much obliterated by such a simple act.”
“And yet they donned the armor. They picked up the weapons. They knew they were taking the risks, these men. It’s not as if you senselessly murdered someone in the street.”
“No,” I replied. “That’s so. And while knowing that should make it easier to deal with, to bundle any guilt in a box and bury it somewhere, the truth is it doesn’t. You asked me how I feel, Skeelana? I feel worse. Happy?”
Her smile turned slightly sad, and then disappeared altogether as the moon was cloaked again. “No. I’d hoped to hear it was easier and less terrible, truly.”
“Why? You’ll stay out of the fray, won’t you? You said as much.”
“I will try, Arki. I will certainly try. I did witness it, all of it, from the trees. And when I saw you shoot that soldier, shoot him dead, I imagined it was me, and imagined how I’d feel. I’m sorry to say I guessed right.”
We rode in silence for a while, and then Skeelana asked, “Speaking of Bloodsounder, how is your captain faring? As you said, unlike anyone else here, he has more than his own ghosts or demons to contend with, doesn’t he?”
“That he does.” I nodded slowly, remembering what Braylar had said about the Memoridons, and considered what I could or should share with her. For better or worse, I was aligned with Captain Killcoin and his men. He clearly didn’t trust these women, his sister least of all, but it obviously extended to any in their order. And yet, Skeelana already knew his secret, and having already drawn out the poisonous memories once, knew it better than anyone else, really. There was little point in dissembling now, or even withholding information. And yet… “The captain doesn’t confide in me a great deal. Much at all, truly. So you would need to speak to him to better gauge his condition. And I wouldn’t suggest it. He is… prickly.”
“Truly? I hadn’t noticed.” She chuckled to herself, and as usual, I felt myself drawn to her, against my better judgment and admonishment from the captain.
There was some silence after that, and I yawned, and she did immediately after. I looked up the line at the soldiers half asleep on their horses, and back, seeing the next rider several yards behind, bobbing in the saddle. Lowering my voice, I said, “When you were… inside the captain, scouring out those foreign memories, you had orders to stop there.”
“Yes. That is true.”
“But was that even possible? Surely you must have encountered his memories.”
She hesitated before replying, “Not intentionally. But I did have to sift around inside your captain to discover those memories infecting him. And it wasn’t a pleasure barge down a languid river, that’s for sure.”
“So… then-”
“Are you asking me what I saw, or felt, that I shouldn’t have?” “I suppose I am.”
She rolled her shoulders and stretched. “Never fear. I obeyed Mulldoos-I didn’t want to spend any longer in the man than I had to, and I had a job to do. I saw snippets here, quick flashes there, nothing substantial, more impressions really. I worked fast. I will say this. While he might not consider you his closest companion, and barks at you frequently, he does bear a certain fondness for you. I think it even troubles him that he does, but there it is.”
“But sometimes you enter someone like that, hunting for the truth of something, right? Intent on unveiling what someone knows or recalls?”
“Sadly, interrogation like that is sometimes necessary. Though it’s not always even what a person actively recalls. Some memories get locked away, buried, and those can be the greatest finds of all. But yes, sometimes we have to explore anything and everything. Why?”
I kept my gaze straight ahead. There was something frightening about the prospect of a Memoridon slipping inside you, about such a power, about being so vulnerable to it. But something else, as well? A thrill perhaps? The idea of such a connection, such intimacy, was unnerving to be sure, but also exciting. With Skeelana at least. The thought of Soffjian invading was beyond terrifying.
“Well,” I began slowly, “do memories ever break apart or get lost forever? Painful ones? Early ones?”
“Yes, memories can erode. Or rot. Like food left too long in the undercroft. Some memories are definitely more impermanent or perishable than others. Smart Memoridons have cast theories about for ages, but no one truly knows why. Not really.” She looked closely at me. “Why do you ask?”
Before I could answer, the riders ahead of us slowed and then reined in completely, so we did as well. I squinted into the dark and watched another single rider slowly materialize far ahead of our company, coming down the road toward us. He stopped as he reached Braylar. They spoke for a few moments and then Mulldoos rode down the line, calling out, “Almost to the wagons, you whoresons. Then you’ll get out of the saddle for a couple of hours. Quicker we get there, quicker you get some relief.”
I sighed. A few miles weren’t a huge ordeal after riding most of the night, but the wagons weren’t over the very next hill either. I turned to say as much to Skeelana but she was gone.
When we rejoined our wagons, it was everything I could do not to collapse on the spot. But the horses needed to be taken care of. I understood now why all my Anjurian patrons had employed grooms and stable hands. While I was grudgingly coming to appreciate the bond a man and a horse could have, and the opportunities to deepen in it the quiet moments of unsaddling the beast, brushing it, caring for it, I wanted nothing more than to let it ride off into the fields and disappear forever if it meant I could finally rest.