Linda Nagata - Memory

But Kaphiri could. I’d seen that with my own eyes.

My gaze shifted to the kobold on the table. “This kobold you’re preparing, it’ll call the silver tomorrow. If it can—”

“No.”She shook her head. “That’s not a thing any player can do. Jubilee, have you believed all these years that Jolly brought on his own death…?”

I shrugged again. I didn’t know what I believed.

“You should have told me.”

There was a lot more I should have told her, but I didn’t. My mother was very wise, and I was afraid she would find a way to explain everything that puzzled me—a clever and logical explanation that might have nothing to do with the truth.

She put her goggles back on and retrieved her pick, but when she returned to her task her hands were not as steady as before.

The procession set out the next morning on foot. It was a glorious morning, with the sun bright and warm and only a few fluffy clouds. A hawk floated high in the air, while songbirds hid in the brush and trees so that it seemed as if the woodland itself was singing.

We followed a path Liam had cleared in the grass, around to the back of the hill, and from there a game trail led down to a quiet stream where I’d spent many pleasant hours swimming. Liam led the way. I followed behind him, carrying my youngest brother, Zeyen, who was only two. We were a subdued party as we picked our way along the stream for nearly a mile, but it was pleasant to walk under the shade of the trees, and to witness my brother’s delight with everything he saw.

The look of a puppy can be accurately predicted by looking at its parents, but it’s different with players. We don’t resemble our parents at all, for our parents change from one life to the next, while we remain the same person, only grown a little in experience. That is the usual rule, but Zeyen was the exception. Whether it was chance or the whimsy of the goddess I cannot say, but he looked very much like my father, and for that I kissed him often.

At last we reached our destination: a grotto where silver lingered even in the daytime. Here the stream had cut a shallow cave into the high, rocky bank on the farside. The cave was bordered in ferns and broad-leafed shrubs that bore small white flowers, and its floor was of coarse sand. At its mouth Liam and I had built a low platform of river rock to serve as a shrine. If there had been a body, it would have been laid there, but today we would leave only offerings.

The shrine was reached by a simple footbridge, made by my father when Jolly was taken. Yesterday Liam and I had repaired and repainted the bridge. I approached the site hesitantly, half expecting to see Kaphiri in the shadows, but of course he wasn’t there.

I took up a post at the near end of the bridge, while our guests gathered. My little brother had been in fine spirits all morning, so it surprised me to see his mood dim. He grew subdued, and turned his head from the grotto, resting it on my shoulder while holding himself perfectly still, just as a frightened fawn will huddle unmoving in the grass. My nearest sister, Emia, saw this and came running. “Give Zeyen to me, Jubilee. You shouldn’t bring him so close.”

“He’s all right,” I insisted.

But of course her worried face and her words convinced him there was something to fear. He started kicking and wriggling, reaching for her and crying so I had no choice but to hand him over. Babies are like that, but I felt stung—though it was a well-deserved rejection. Emia had spent far more time caring for the younger children than I had, especially since Liam came.

I watched her carry Zeyen away from the bridge and up the hill to where our guests were gathering. Herds of small deer commonly browse in Kavasphir and on this side of the stream their feeding had opened up the woodland, so that grass grew between the trees. My mother directed her guests to seat themselves here on mats and low folding chairs that had been brought for this purpose. I stayed at my post, making sure no children went across the bridge or into the water, though at this time of day there was really no danger—not until the kobolds were released.

When all was settled my mother spoke to her guests of my father’s life, and then Liam spoke, and then one by one many there came forward to tell what they had known of Kedato and why they had loved him. And as I stood at the foot of the bridge my father had built, I learned many things about him I had never heard before and felt a sharp pang of regret that I had not known him better.

Two of my brothers and my nearest sister also spoke, but words were beyond me. I listened to the soft voice of the stream and waited for the pain in my throat to subside.

When the speaking was over I crossed the bridge. I had carried a gold cloth with me, and I laid that now on the rock platform. My nearest brother, Rizal, came next and lit incense that filled the air with the sweet scent of citrus flowers. Then one by one my siblings crossed the bridge and left offerings on the shrine, gifts they had made for my father, or things that had belonged to him. Jacio brought his favorite bow. Emia brought a shirt he liked to wear that she had embroidered with flowers. Tezoé left her favorite kite.

Beside the other gifts I laid a spray of cherries from the orchard, and a figurine of a hawk that had belonged to Jolly. It’s said that in other times and places the youngest child was left on the shrine or if there were no children then the distraught lover might offer herself instead.

Thankfully, we lived in a kinder age.

My mother was last. She laid a handwritten letter on the shrine, and a strand of hair from each of us, made into a braid. Then she looked at me with dry eyes and nodded. I sent my siblings back across the bridge to join our guests on the hill. Everyone stood. Some of those who were older and slower, or who had small children with them, began to migrate toward the hilltop.

I stepped within the shadow of the cave, my mother beside me. The dazzle of sunlight had prevented us from seeing inside the cave before, but now we could look to the back wall where tufts of silver gleamed in narrow crevices running in rough angles from floor to ceiling.

“The silver won’t last long in the sunlight,” my mother said in a low voice. “But it will rise quickly. Don’t stumble as you cross the bridge.”

“I won’t.”

Then we bowed our heads to the silver and spoke together the ancient words credited to Fiaccomo:

I could hear Zeyen crying far away across the stream. My mother listened a moment. Then she took two tiny, transparent boxes from the pocket of her gown: the boxes that contained the kobolds she had prepared last night. In their airtight chambers they had gone dormant again but that would not last long. She gave one to me, saying, “Now we will ask the goddess to visit us.”

We returned together to the sunlight, placing the boxes on either side of the shrine. I waited for my mother’s signal. She nodded, and together we pressed the spring latches and our boxes fell open. Oxygen brushed the kobolds’ thick petals. I glanced back into the cave, thinking I had seen a shadow move within the shadows, but the sun was too bright and I could see nothing.

“Come,” my mother said, holding her hand out to me. “We’ll walk together. Quickly. But walk. And don’t look back until we’ve joined the others.”

I took her hand and we crossed the bridge together and climbed the hill. I did not look back, though I wanted to. I imagined Kaphiri emerging from the cave. I imagined his dark eyes, and his disquieting questions: Where is Jolly? Why does he hide from me? His presence filled my mind, so that when a murmur arose from our guests I knew Kaphiri was the cause. He had been seen. I started to turn, but my mother gripped my hand more tightly. “Wait,” she whispered. “Don’t turn back until we reach the top.”