K Parker: Memory

Poldarn looked at him. 'And did I?'

'No. But there could be all sorts of reasons. Maybe there are people who need you. Have you ever once considered that?'

'Yes,' Poldarn said, without much confidence. 'But-well, I may not remember further back than three years, but I learned a few things about myself back in the old country-not things I did, things I am. I reckon anybody who knew me before is probably better off without me.'

'Oh, sure,' Aciava said, pulling a face. 'You're a sadistic wife-beater and you carry thirteen infectious diseases. While sleepwalking, you set fire to hospitals and orphanages. You are, in fact, the god who brings the end of the world. But apart from that-'

'Fine.' Poldarn sat down. 'Just tell me, why was finding me so important?'

Aciava hesitated, then grinned sheepishly. 'I missed you,' he said.

Poldarn stared. 'You what?'

'Straight up. I'd better explain. At Deymeson-you do know, don't you, you were at Deymeson?'

Poldarn nodded.

'Well, that's something. You were a novice there. You joined in second year of the third grade; you were eighteen months older than the rest of us, but Father Tutor reckoned you had to stay down, because you were so far behind. Anyhow, that's beside the point. There were six of us. No, that's misleading, because there were twenty of us in the class; but there were six of us who always went round together. Bestest friends, that sort of thing. There was you, and me; and Elaos Tanwar-he's dead now-and the only girl in our year, Xipho Dorunoxy-'

Poldarn felt as if he'd just been slammed back in his chair by a kick in the stomach. 'Copis.'

'That's right, Copis. That makes five. And one more. Cordomine was what we knew him as, but he's better known these days as Chaplain Cleapho.'

There was a long silence. 'I don't believe you,' Poldarn said eventually.

'Oh.' Aciava frowned. 'What a shame, because it's true. I can prove it, you know.'

'I don't want you to prove it,' Poldarn shouted; then he took a deep breath. 'No matter what you say,' he said, 'I'm not going to believe you. See, I've been through this before; I was at Deymeson-before the raiders burned it down-and they told me all sorts of stuff, all perfectly plausible, about who I was. And I believed them; but then I found out they were lying, using me, it was something to do with the war and some general called Cronan-'

Aciava nodded. 'I know about that,' he said. 'Hardly surprising, you weren't very popular with the sword-monks after you left. Anyway, that was when Copis told you she'd been-well, looking after you, bad choice of words, on their instructions, and then she pulled a sword on you. No wonder you're suspicious when I tell you I used to be a monk too. And you don't believe she was one of them, because you were in love with her at the time. Sort of.'

'No,' Poldarn said.

Aciava shook his head. 'Trust me,' he said, 'you were. You were in love with her back in fifth grade-sorry, I'm not allowed to tell you that, am I? But she wouldn't have anything to do with you, so it's probably all right.' He smiled. 'Actually, it's bitterly unfair, because when you did finally get her in the sack, you weren't to know that you were finally achieving a lifetime ambition.' He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap. As he did so, a fold of his coat fell away, revealing the hilt of a short sword tucked into his sash. Poldarn wondered if it was deliberate. 'Now do you want me to piss off and leave you in peace? If you do, I will.'

Poldarn closed his eyes. 'No,' he said.

Then the door opened, and the sutler came in with a big jug of beer. 'Here you go,' he said. 'You haven't finished the first one.'

'Leave it,' Aciava said, 'we've got a use for it.'

The sutler went away again. 'Sorry,' Aciava said, 'I've lost my thread. Did you just agree that you do want me to tell you?'

Poldarn sighed. 'I'm not sure,' he said.

'Progress,' Aciava said brightly. 'A few moments ago, you were absolutely dead set against it.'

'That was before-'

'Would you rather I hadn't told you? About Xipho-sorry, Copis?'

'That's academic, isn't it? You've told me now.' He slumped forward onto his elbows. 'I guess you'd better tell me the rest.'

But Aciava shook his head. 'Not so fast,' he said. 'I've still got your best interests at heart, remember. I'll tell you some things, but only what's good for you. All right?'

'I'm not in the mood for games.'

'Ah.' Aciava grinned. 'I've heard you say that before. You always were an impatient sort-you know, always reading ahead, wanting to learn lesson five before you'd properly got the hang of lesson three. I can still just get up and leave, and I will if you don't behave. Understood?'

'Fuck you,' Poldarn said. But he stayed where he was. 'Go on, then.'

'Thank you so much.' Aciava settled himself in his chair and picked up a slice of smoked lamb in his fingers. 'Now,' he said, 'one step at a time. Do you want me to tell you your name-not Ciartan, the name you had in the order? Or not; it's up to you.'

'Yes.'

'Splendid. You were called Poldarn.' Aciava smiled. 'No, I'm not kidding you, it was the name Father Tutor chose for you, since he refused to call you Ciartan, he said there was no such name; and it's quite usual for novices to take a name-in-religion. Signifies a complete severance of ties with the outside world, or some such shit. Anyhow, that's what we all knew you as.' He breathed in deeply, like a man of sensibility smelling a rare flower. 'My guess is, Xipho was playing a game with you. Probably, being told to look after you put the idea of the god-in-the-cart stunt into her mind. Also, it'd be easier for her, so there wouldn't be any risk that she'd suddenly call you Poldarn by mistake, out of habit, and then you'd get suspicious. Either that, or it was just her idea of a joke. You see, it was always a source of extreme merriment and wit in our gang, Father Tutor giving you such a wonderfully apt name.' He paused. 'You do know why it's apt, don't you?'

'Enlighten me.'

Aciava sighed. 'Well, Poldarn's the god of fire and the forge, and before you joined up, you were working in a blacksmith's shop. You learned the trade back in Haldersness, and when you wound up over here and needed to start earning a living, it was the only useful thing you knew how to do.'

'I see,' Poldarn said. 'That explains-no, forget it. None of your business.'

'Suit yourself.' Aciava shrugged. 'So that's your name,' he said. 'I reckoned there couldn't be any harm in telling you, since that's what you've been calling yourself any way. And of course, it's not your actual name, because really you're Ciartan. Bit of a non-issue, really.'

'I've had enough of this,' Poldarn said, jumping up again. 'I think I was right to start with. I don't want to know any more, it's just making me angry-'

Aciava nodded gravely. 'Because you're finding out you've been made a fool of. Same old Poldarn, always was scared to death of being made to look stupid in front of the class.'

If he'd had a sword, Poldarn would probably have drawn it; he could feel the intrusion into his circle, like a splinter in the joint of a finger. 'Maybe,' he said. 'But you've told me now, and I don't want to know any more, thanks all the same. You can piss off now.'

'Fine.' Aciava held his hands up. 'Whatever you like. But a moment ago you were dead set on knowing why I'd come looking for you. Obviously you've changed your mind.'

Poldarn closed his eyes. 'You said you missed me.'

'Oh, I did.' Aciava laughed. 'But I miss loads of people. Hardly a day goes by when I don't ask myself what happened to old so-and-so. But I don't go hunting them down across half the Empire. There's a reason why I'm here, something that affects your present and your future, not just your past. You can ignore it if you like.'