Linda Nagata - Memory

I was keenly aware of the ruin of my father’s truck in the darkness below us. “Why does he believe Jolly is alive? He must believe it. Why else would he keep watch on Temple Huacho?”

Udondi shifted, her eyes glittering in the faint starlight. “Has he been watching?”

“Not himself. Not that we’ve seen. But this morning Jacio surprised a savant in the forest. We pursued it all the way to the highway. It’s why we’re here.”

“Where it self-destructed,” Liam added. “And how will Kaphiri react to that? Perhaps he’ll think we have something to hide after all.”

Udondi leaned back against one arm. “Actually,” she said, “that savant was mine.”

“Yours?”I whispered it so that I would not shout. “The savant we pursued? You know about it?”

She nodded. “I was in Dalanthé that day I first spoke to you. I came as fast as I could, but it’s a long journey and I was worried Kaphiri, or one of his servants, might return before I could reach you. So I had a friend, a trucker, release the savant as he passed the Kavasphir Hills. It was set to watch all comers, and it would have delivered a warning to you if anything suspicious turned up, but it was otherwise instructed to remain hidden—I didn’t want to upset you without cause. That’s why the savant retreated, and why it finally destroyed itself.”

I couldn’t think what to say. I’d been so sure the savant belonged to Kaphiri, or at best someone who served him, like Mica Indevar, or that player who had watched me in the market…

I slapped my thigh. “It was him ! In the market. It was Indevar who was watching me. That time I went to see you, Udondi. He was there.”

“That was many days ago,” Liam said. “Kaphiri could have returned many times to Temple Huacho… so why wait for Indevar to come instead? Why? If it still mattered to him?”

“You’re thinking Indevar may be less than he seems?” Udondi asked.

Liam grunted. “Perhaps he is not so much serving Kaphiri, as desiring to serve… or at least to be noticed. By his reaction I would guess he had no idea that picture of Jolly was seven years old.” Liam shook his head. “Whatever it was this Kaphiri hoped to find that night at Temple Huacho, he was disappointed. He’s probably forgotten us… and Kedato.”

Udondi said, “For the sake of your family, I hope that is so.”

For myself, I could make no sense of it, but there were other things I wanted to know. “Why are you hunting him, Udondi? Youare hunting him. Is it for revenge?”

“It did start that way.”

“You were in that last temple at Phau, weren’t you?”

In the darkness I saw her nod. “That was a long time ago. For years after, Kaphiri was only a phantom of Lish. The players there call him a ghost and some make shrines and offerings to him so he will not bring the silver. I used to tear these down, but as my anger grew colder I started to ask myself questions instead. Was Kaphiri a man? Could a man control the silver? Had any man ever done so?”

“Fiaccomo,”I whispered.

Udondi turned to me in surprise. “Have you worked that out already? You’re faster than I am.”

“Or luckier,” Liam muttered, and he described our visit to the ruined city.

“A world without silver,” Udondi said. “I’d heard such stories, but I didn’t believe them. Fiaccomo was a legend, a magical hero created for the amusement of children. Then my journeys took me to a temple high in the Reflection Mountains.” Her voice grew softer. “I hope neither of you ever has to visit those peaks.

“Silver is a constant hazard in those elevations. Almost every day the peaks are hidden in heavy, dark clouds that the sun cannot break through. Under that shelter, silver will often rise up from ravines even in the daytime so that traveling only a short distance is dangerous. Then, too, there are no roads and no antennas, for any structures are wiped out within days. That’s why the temple I sought had no market link. It’s why I had to go there in person—but it was worth the journey.

“In that mountain temple I found a brief, handwritten document, very old. The temple keeper helped me with the translation. This is what I read:

‘A grievous night! It is dawn now, and I set pen to paper for no purpose I can discern, except that I would leave a remembrance of those who are gone. In all my travels I have been ever wary of the rare traces of silver fog that are found sometimes in these mountains, but my wariness failed last evening! Tomas, Jonny, and I were overcome by a sudden boiling of the grim mists. I felt myself dying. I know I became other than myself, for a new consciousness came over me, as if some part of me had wakened to a greater reality. My sight expanded, so I seemed to see somewhat of the mind of another far greater than myself, and I understood the unfathomable details of the world. But to what purpose? I have no answer to that. Nor can I guess why I have been returned to the world, while of my dear companions there is no trace. Am I mad to think of returning? For there is a hunger in me to understand it, to know why this thing happened. I struggle to be calm, to be rational, but in truth I wait only for the return of evening. I do not think I will ever write more.’

“Fiaccomo was the author of this account. This tale of how he discovered his affinity for silver is a little different from the story we tell to children, no? Not as pretty. But the talents Fiaccomo reportedly possessed—passing unharmed through the silver, and summoning it at will—those were the same talents Kaphiri had displayed in Lish.”

Liam stirred. “Are you thinking Fiaccomois Kaphiri, in another lifetime?”

“It’s something I’ve wondered.”

“But Fiaccomo is known for restoring the world, and for creating the first kobolds.”

Udondi said, “He is also known for bringing the silver back into the world.” She shook her head. “The silver moves in cycles. In some ages it can hardly be found, but for us the silver is common, coming more often, and in deeper floods than anyone can remember. Already players have begun to wonder how bad it might be. Kaphiri tells them it will be the end of all we know.

“He has Fiaccomo’s talents, but he does not speak of saving the world. Instead, he preaches that the goddess has given him the task of unmaking the world in a great flood of silver… and I fear he is learning how to do it. Just this year, something has changed for him. Before, he was only a ghost of Lish, preaching annihilation to a handful of unhappy cessants. Now he has been seen in far-scattered enclaves, proclaiming the wrath of the goddess and promising that all the world must soon drown in silver. Clearly, the silver is rising. And if all drown, none will ever be reborn again, no? So it is the bitter end. But Kaphiri offers this hope: that he will shelter those who accept his protection, and that when the final flood recedes, they will emerge from the silver into a world remade, the world the goddess had always intended for us, without the flaws of this one. A world in which birth and death have been discarded, and lifetimes go on forever, and where every player may become the lover of every other. But only those who serve him now will ever reach this place.”

“Can he guide players through the silver?” I asked.

“No. His cessants are consumed by the silver as easily as anyone else. I have seen it. But desperate players will believe what they will. At his command they will open the gates of enclaves and allow the silver to enter. They will poison kobold wells. How hard could it be to destroy every last shelter in a world on the brink of drowning in silver? In past ages when the silver has risen, some few players have always survived. But not this time. Not if Kaphiri has his way.”