Jeff Salyards - Veil of the Deserters

We both sat quietly for a few moments, until she broke it with, “See, that’s it, right there. Most people, this silence would be incredibly awkward. With you, it’s only mildly awkward.”

I laughed, and it felt good. Really good.

Skeelana looked at me, and while her blue eyes had a way of ensuring whatever I said next would be foolish or floundering, I still found myself enjoying looking back. “Aren’t you worried? That you might have been seen coming in here? Is that…?”

“What? Appropriate? No, probably not. Most Syldoon don’t consort with us unless necessary. But we are allowed in the Tower, after all. We are a part of it, even if there is a divide. We can walk down the halls. And most anyone I saw ran off in the other direction as soon as possible, not especially caring where I was going. So no, not really worried. Though I don’t intend on staying all that long. I mostly just wanted to find out what you think of Sunwrack so far.”

I resisted the urge to walk over to the window and look out again. “It is… enormous. Staggering, really. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“It is big, that’s for certain,” Skeelana agreed. “After living here for so long, you tend to forget that the rest of the world isn’t built like this place.”

“You said mostly?”

“Hmmm?”

“‘Mostly wanted.’ Was there something else?” I tried to keep the nervousness and excitement out of my voice, chiding myself for being a stupid boy, for thinking an accomplished Memoridon was even remotely interested in me. For wanting her to be. It was foolishness of the worst sort.

She played with the jackal pin on her jacket. “You mentioned something, several days back now, that I’ve been wondering about.”

I felt disappointment and relief. “Oh?”

“You asked me about memories. And how easy or hard it was to uncover those that had been lost or fractured. Something like that.”

“You’re a Memoridon-you don’t remember?”

Skeelana tilted her head, smiling. “Oh, you witty boy. Yes, I do. And I got the sense that wasn’t just idle curiosity. You were asking about yourself, weren’t you?”

After a long telling pause, I went ahead and confessed. “No. That is, it wasn’t idle curiosity.” I considered changing the subject, ending the discussion entirely. But I found myself saying, “I never met my father. That I know of. I remember my childhood, of course. My mother. For whatever that’s worth. But I was thinking, wondering, that is…”

She waited patiently. I pressed on. “Well, maybe I had seen him. Maybe he’d checked in on me and my mother when I was really young and I just don’t remember. I met his retainer, but never my father. I don’t think. And when you said sometimes memories get buried or broken, I was thinking…”

Hearing the plaintive tone, I regretted saying anything at all, but Skeelana gave me a smile without guile, mockery, or sarcasm. “It might be possible. Might.”

“But, you could look. Inside me. Find it if it’s there, maybe restore it.” She opened her mouth, but I kept talking. “I know how ridiculous it sounds, or seems. I mean, even if a memory was there, even if I had seen him, knowing that, seeing it again, well, it wouldn’t change my life. But still.”

She nodded slowly. “I could look. Could.”

I was about to nod myself, and stopped. “Is there danger? Could you… damage me?”

Skeelana shook her head. “Soffjian would peel you like an orange and break you into segments, but I have a delicate enough touch-I could flit around without causing any harm.” But she stopped herself. “And still, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Why… why is that?”

“Well, when I searched Captain Killcoin for those stolen foreign memories, they were easy enough to find, really, and I could generally ignore his own. Generally. But what you are asking… it is too intimate, Arki. I would be sifting through yours, looking for this thing. And while I am as crafty at this as anyone, and have a talent for finding what I’m looking for, you would be exposing yourself. Without intending to, I might see things I shouldn’t. Things you don’t want seen. Embarrassing memories. The time you roped the unicorn thinking about your sister, or-”

“I don’t have a sister, but if I did, I wouldn’t!”

She stood up, walked toward me. “Well, be that as it may, we all have shameful memories. Horrible ones, sometimes. Painful ones. People don’t invite me in voluntarily, after all. There is a reason for that. I wouldn’t feel comfortable doing it. I’m sorry.”

Skeelana was right. And I was a selfish fool for even thinking about it-I knew things about the captain that he would kill me for revealing to a Memoridon, even inadvertently. Still, she must have seen my face drop, even for a moment, and felt some pity.

Bending over, she ran her fingers across my cheek, and then her face was moving toward me, the dark skin closer and closer, and I felt my eyes lock on the stud on her round upturned nose, just before she placed her plump lips on mine.

My breath hitched in my chest, and I finally closed my eyes, turning my head slightly, kissing her back, her fingers moving across my cheek to the back of my head, and she pulled me in tight. She parted her lips a little, and I followed her lead-the only time I remember my heart racing faster was when the Brunesman stabbed me. Her tongue darted out, flicking across my teeth, teasing, curling, inviting me to let her in. I reached up and ran my fingers through her hair, jabbing my thumb on a pin, and she laughed and kissed me harder, placing her hand on my chest.

Skeelana smelled of valerian musk, and tasted like almonds, and I wanted to devour her, take her all in at once, feel her skin, her curves, her heat. I’d kissed a few girls before, but only truly been with one girl, and that was a fumbling, ridiculous encounter, elbows and heads knocking together, apologies aplenty, rushed and graceless and gawky. But here, now, I felt an arousal I had never experienced before, potent and fierce and primal. I desperately wanted to explore Skeelana, to please her.

And abruptly, it was done. She was moving away. I kept my eyes closed for a moment, not wanting to show the frustration, and when I opened them again, she was gone. Which was impossible-she hadn’t had time to leave or hide. And then I remembered the Hornman in Alespell she had beguiled and looked closer.

I saw a shimmer along one wall, made out the shape of her, part of the outline, a faint rippling where I should have seen only stone and wood.

Skeelana laughed as the illusion rippled toward the door. “I was waiting for you to be clean. About time.”

And then she was truly gone, leaving me breathing so heavily I was nearly panting, my head swimming, still tasting her, and hungering.

After Skeelana left, I lay back on the bed, waiting to cool down, revisiting what had happened over and over in my mind. And while it was completely unexpected, I fell into a deep slumber the dead would be jealous of.

Hours later, I woke, my pillow covered in sweat, the room dark, and saw a faint glow coming from Braylar’s quarters. I climbed out of bed, body still feeling twice as heavy as it was, eyes weighted, and yet my stomach grumbling. I would have thought Skeelana’s visit a dream, except I could still smell the valerian on my tunic.

I walked into his chambers, wondering what hour it was.

Braylar was sitting at the mosaic table near the window and the fireplace that must have rarely been used, a tallow candle burning low in front of him, his shadow dancing along the wall. His hair was disheveled, not nearly as slicked back as usual, and he was hunched over parchment sheets, most scattered on the table. There was a wooden plate in front of him, some small bones, a pool of congealed grease, a hunk of bread, and some olive pits.