Jeff Salyards - Veil of the Deserters

I was about to ask Venduroo about the urgency, but Braylar was three words quicker. “Very well, Sergeant, now that our truant scribbler has joined us and we are all accounted for, you mentioned having important news.”

I had a moment to wonder if Vendurro suggested I should join the group or if the captain had sent him to fetch me. Either way, the fact that he allowed me to be included was surprising, given that he caught me pilfering, but Vendurro stopped those thoughts entirely when he said, “Yup, got something that surely passes for news, though I won’t be the one to truly deliver it. Hewspear be here short enough, and I’ll let him tell you hisself, but he sent a runner ahead. Won’t be the only one joining us to break fast.”

Something in his tone and expression said this someone was not going to be especially welcome.

Mulldoos stopped mid-chew, cheeks bulging with food, two-tined fork halfway to his mouth with another bite, and Braylar straightened in his chair, left hand instinctively dropping down to Bloodsounder. “Out with it, Sergeant-who is this unexpected guest?”

Vendurro scratched at the tuft of hair on his chin and blew out a lot of air, clearly not liking being the bearer of this news at all, but he was spared just then, as there was a knock on the door to the hall. He looked relieved when he walked over, and getting confirmation of the man on the other side, undid the lock.

Hewspear stepped through the entrance, saluting as he saw his captain. But even after he entered, Vendurro didn’t shut the door behind him. He waited, and even peered around the corner, but Hewspear said, “Our other arrival hasn’t quite arrived. Shut the door, Sergeant.”

Vendurro obeyed and Braylar said, “The suspense is utterly oppressive. Who is coming through the door next?”

Hewspear struggled with a smile, but it was weak, wobbled and fell. “Soffjian is in Alespell, Captain. She will be here shortly.”

If Braylar was shocked, he hid it well enough. His irritation, however, less so. He immediately glared at Mulldoos, who raised both hands in the air. “Don’t look at me, Cap. Had nothing to do with it.” As he slowly lowered his hands he added, “Might not be the worst turn, though. The hellcat didn’t work out. But even if she had, wouldn’t have been any kind of full on solution. And whatever I didn’t like about that half-hand whore of yours-and there was plenty, she was like a burr in my prick-she managed to fix you up as good as you got fixed. Enough to function, leastwise. But might be she mucked things up real good inside, too, so maybe Soff showing her skinny ass is-”

“A harbinger of pain, suffering, or outright disaster. And those are the best outcomes.” Braylar turned back to Hewspear. “That would explain all the uneasiness in delivering the news. Well then. That does complicate things. How much time?”

Hewspear walked over to the table and accepted a cup Mulldoos offered. “She found me in the streets two hours ago. Not all that shocking, of course. But still, unexpected. And she wasn’t keen to divulge anything. Also not shocking. I’m not sure why she didn’t strike for the Dog immediately. So, not knowing her business, I can only hazard a guess. But unless she plans on taking in the pleasantries of the Fair, I would expect her soon. As much as you can expect something of one who makes the unexpected her business.” Again, the wobbly smile, as he drained some wine and sat stiffly.

Braylar swirled the ale around in his own mug. “Very good. Well, less than good, truly. But we work with what we have, yes? And just now, I suspect we suddenly have less. Time, luck, resources, something, but less, to be sure.”

I hadn’t recalled hearing that name before. But the exchange, the tone, the way the Syldoon suddenly seemed on edge and eager for drink, in the context of other conversations, other edginess, all clicked together for me. Before thinking it through, I blurted, “She’s your sister, isn’t she? This Soffjian.”

Mulldoos clapped twice, slowly. “You might be a weasel and a cowardly horsecunt, boy, but you’re half-clever, I’ll grant you that.”

I wondered if that was designed to prompt me to try to defend myself-would that raise me in his estimation if I did, or simply give him an excuse to knock me to the floorboards and kick in my teeth? But at least he confirmed I was right. I pressed on, ignoring Mulldoos. “And she’s a Memoridon, your sister. But why is she so unwelcome? I thought the Syldoon controlled them. What reason do you have to-” I nearly said “fear” but knew that would end badly for me-“dislike her presence here so?”

Mulldoos shook his head. “Half-stupid, too.”

Braylar looked beyond irritated now, though whether that was due more to my questioning or the arrival of his sister, I couldn’t say. But before he could chastise me, Hewspear replied, “The Memoridons are controlled by the Tower Commanders. Just as the soldiers in the field are controlled by the Tower Commanders. We both answer to the same Commander. So, when the Memoridons and Syldoon operate in the same theater, they are… parallel. They have their agenda, and we have ours.”

“Problem being,” Mulldoos said, “those agendas don’t always cozy up to one another.”

“That would be perpendicular,” Hewspear offered.

“Well, the Memoridons are plaguing perpendicular then, you old goat. Only thing I know is seeing one show up’s not like to be a good thing. Cap’s got the right of it, there. They bring nothing good most days. Unless of course your superior officer got himself a peculiar cursed flail that steals memories. That thing Memoridons tend to know more about than most. Might be the only time one showing up unannounced ain’t the worst thing that could-”

“Enough!” Braylar slapped the table. “She is here. We will survive her presence as best we can until she is gone. That is all. But if anyone so much as whispers another word about Soffjian being a boon, I’ll nail his tongue to a door. With or without the head. Depending on mood. Are we clear?” Everyone nodded, though Mulldoos a second slower than the rest.

I’d read that Memoridons were used to gather intelligence, interrogate, even assassinate-the books noted little else was known about them, besides the fact that they were shadowy and dealt in memory magic, all of which justifiably earned them dangerous repute. But those accounts were written by Anjurians, or Gurtagese, or the odd Ulldesian.

But given that they were controlled by the Syldoon, not the other way around, I always assumed the trepidation was felt only beyond the borders of the Empire. Even if Memoridons had some autonomy, they still answered to the same commander the soldiers did. I didn’t understand how these seasoned and generally callous and crude veterans could be so disturbed simply by one being in the same city. Even before the arrival of the captain’s sister, the mere mention of the name seemed to rankle the Syldoon unlike anything else. But clearly Braylar was in no mood for more on the topic, so I held my tongue. Which was always a wise move, especially on the heels of the nailed-to-a-door threat.

Braylar turned back to Hewspear. “Now then, Vendurro tells me you have less… troublesome news as well. What of it?”

Hewspear set his cup down. “Well, I imagine the other news changes the complexion, but I have word of Henlester.”

Braylar leaned forward. “Indeed. We have his whereabouts, then? I thought our ears in his house had been… stuffed?”

“If Dothelus or Mikkner yet live, I’ve heard nothing of it. I suspect, as you do, that the high priest has culled his household significantly. Still, we haven’t turned up their bodies, yet, so they might survive. But if so, they’ve given no word of any kind.”