Linda Nagata - Memory

“Damn it,”Lita whispered when she saw where I looked. “When will I learn to mind my own business?” Then she hustled me inside.

I found myself in a dignified club room projected in textures of dark wood, with candles burning on the tables and a slow-moving fan turning overhead. When the door closed Lita and I were the only occupants, but another player joined us, appearing suddenly in one of the chairs surrounding a central table.

“Here she is,” Lita said, and I could not tell if she meant me, or the woman who sat regarding me with a gaze that took my measure. How had Lita described her eyes? Bright, and fragile. I knew at once this was the player she had spoken of.

She was a small woman, and lean, very like Lita in her build, but much younger than the aged trucker. Still, I could see lines of gray in the black hair she wore in a neat bun at her neck. She was dressed in a worn gray-green shirt and gray trousers. Black, fingerless gloves protected her hands. Her eyes were narrowed as if she squinted against sunlight, and there was dust on her face.

Lita did not introduce us.

“Please sit down,” the woman said in a rich, cultured voice that contrasted with her vagabond appearance. She indicated a second seat at her table.

I glanced at Lita for reassurance, only to discover her avatar had disappeared. I thought about leaving too. All that held me in that room was a market link—and my curiosity. The player watched me, waiting patiently as I decided what I would do.

Finally I pulled out a chair. I had come here for a reason, after all. I made my avatar sit. “I want to know if there is a man who can survive the silver.”

“I was told you saw such a man.”

“I don’t know what I saw.”

She nodded. “There is sometimes a gap between what our senses tell us, and what we are willing to accept. Will you tell me what you think you saw?”

“Have you seen him too?”

“Yes.”

“And if I speak, you’ll tell me in turn what you know?”

“I’ll tell you what I feel is safe for you to know.”

I thought this over. The offer did not seem fair. Still, there was something in this player’s steady gaze that made me want to trust her. So in halting words I described the stranger and his impossible appearance on the road beyond the temple wall, when the land all around had been drowned in silver. “I saw him gesture at the silver and it came hurrying to him. He did not try to run. He stood there, and it swallowed him.”

“You did not see him come out of the silver?”

“No. I didn’t see him after that. But his manner was not the manner of a man who goes to his death.”

She asked me some questions about the stranger’s appearance, and his clothing. I answered as I could, but I said nothing about my conversation with him. I could not speak of that. I would not take the chance.

“When did this happen?”

“Three nights ago.”

She looked startled at this news. “The same night your father was taken?”

“Lita told you that? Did she tell you my name too?”

The player nodded.

“It was the same night,” I admitted. “But my father was on the road. He was not at home.”

“I’m truly sorry for your loss. I can’t tell you if it was coincidence or not, but I can say that you have seen Kaphiri himself, and that you are lucky to be alive.”

That was not what I wanted to hear. “People are always telling me I’m lucky, but my father is dead. If that’s luck, it’s a treacherous kind and I’m sorry I have it.”

She nodded. “It’s true that luck is not always good. Sometimes, it only softens an evil result.”

My gaze fell, for I felt ashamed. As hurt and angry as I was, I knew others had seen far worse, and faced it. So in a contrite voice I asked, “This… Kaphiri? Will you tell me about him? What is he? Why do you know of him?”

“What is he? That’s the key question, and I have no answer for that. But what he does—I’ve seen it. So have you. He commands the silver. Have you heard of Phau?”

“Only now, when Lita mentioned that name.”

“Phau was an enclave, an old one, far to the east in the district of Lish, close to the Reflection Mountains. Some fifty-five years ago a cessant cult formed in the district. They had the luck to found a new temple, very close to Phau. You’ve heard of cessant cults?”

“Yes.” Cessants are those who have given up the search for a mate. I guessed that this player was herself a cessant. They have no children, so they turn their minds to other things: art, science, business, history. Life. But some are bitter, and of these, a few form cults that are dedicated to celibacy and it is said they will lure young players into their ranks, persuading them to give up the search for a lover even before it’s begun.

“The families of Phau were naturally concerned,” the player continued. “They got up a posse to confront this cult and they tore down the new temple and poured acid in the temple well. The cultists spoke the name of their absent leader, Kaphiri, and they promised he would bring revenge.

“They did not lie. That very night he came. He appeared in the lower streets of Phau and a flood of silver rolled in behind him, consuming the outlying neighborhoods. More floods arrived on the next night, and the next, until the fourth night came. All the people who had not been taken and who had not yet run away were huddled within the sanctuary of the temples. They should have been safe there, but when dawn came and the night’s flood receded, only one temple remained in a wasteland of barren soil. Phau was gone.”

For a moment I was not in that club. I was on the wall again, with the stranger looking up at me, his face still lost in shadow. What could such a creature do to us at Temple Huacho? What had he already done?

“Is it really the same man?” I whispered. “Can it be, after so many years?”

“He is very old—very much older than he seems—and clever. He has learned to use the kobolds to extend his life far beyond any natural limit. He is certainly the oldest player alive in the world today.”

“You know this?”

She nodded. “His history can be traced back almost four hundred years. There is no doubt it is the same man, in the same life. Since Phau he has been seen many times—and far more often, this last half year. But his interest lies with the cessant cults. I can’t guess why he came to Temple Huacho.”

I nodded, more frightened now than I had been on that night. “I have to go.”

The player’s eyes were grave as she regarded me. “Perhaps it’s best. But if you want to find me again, come back to this room.” She tapped the table. “Leave a message here. My name is Udondi Halal.”

I started to close the link… but there was one more question I had to ask. “This Kaphiri… does he ever have another with him? A young man who can survive the silver too?”

Udondi Halal saw through me then. She knew I’d told her only part of my story. Though her expression did not change, I felt suddenly cold before her gaze. “That is a strange question.” She glanced at my scarred hand, which in life was poised to tap the link off. Then she met my gaze once again. “This is truth, Jubilee Huacho. Kaphiri makes many promises, but I’ve never heard of anyone following him out of death.”

I nodded, my thank you barely escaping my dry throat.

Then I closed the link.

When I looked again at the orchard the sunshine seemed to me only a fleeting promise. In just a few hours dusk would come, the time of silver. And then Kaphiri might return too.

In the days that followed I lived in a state of nervous terror, jumping at any odd noise in the night, or the sweep of an unexpected shadow. I didn’t talk to Yaphet, though my mother must have notified his family because he sent me a formal letter of condolence.