K Parker - Memory

'Why are you here?'

'Let's say I came early for the class reunion. What's the grub like on this project? I heard the idea was nothing but the best for our brave lads. But they say that in every war, and it always ends up being porridge and salt bacon. Remember the bean stew at Deymeson? Sometimes I can still taste it, in nightmares.'

'Are you really an expert in foundry work?'

'Of course.' Big grin. 'You don't think they only taught religion and swordfighting at school, do you? I've forgotten more about pouring hot metal than your friend Spenno'll ever know. They were lucky to get me, I'm telling you.'

'Are you here for the project, or just to annoy me?'

'That's not a very nice thing to say to an old friend.'

Poldarn shrugged. 'I'll show you the canteen,' he said. 'Does anybody else know you're here?'

'I reported to the brigadier as soon as I arrived,' Aciava replied. 'I'm glad he's in charge here. He's a good man, and I always did get on well with him.'

The cookhouse was shutting up shop when they got there; they were just about to pour away the last of the soup and put out the fire. Once they'd finished their shift, nothing would ever induce the cooks to issue so much as an apple core-it was an inviolable rule of the foundry.

'Never mind,' Aciava said. 'I'll just have to make do with the last of the stuff I brought with me for the road. Join me?'

Poldarn remembered that he hadn't had anything to eat for a long time. 'No, thanks,' he said.

'Let's see,' Aciava said, as if he hadn't heard. 'I've got salt beef from Sirupat, you know, with the peppercorns on the outside, and some of that black rye bread, and Torcea biscuits, and there's a chunk of that red Falcata cheese left. And I've got a couple of bottles of Cymari that I was going to take back home with me, but what the hell. They say it keeps, but I've never been able to restrain myself long enough to find out. Oh yes, and some apples. What I always say is, even if you do spend all your time on the road, there's no reason to rough it if you don't have to.'

'No, thanks,' Poldarn repeated, and walked away. Somehow he got the impression that Aciava hadn't expected him to do that; as though the list of fare had been carefully compiled to include all his pet favourites. (What in any god's name was a Torcea biscuit, anyway?) Instead, he gnawed at the stub end of a stale corn cake and washed it down with needled beer. Wonderful thing, integrity, but it tastes horrible.

He'd just managed to drift off to sleep when somebody prodded him awake. Not again, he thought, and propped himself up on one elbow. 'Now what?'

This time it was Chiruwa, which made a change, though not a particularly welcome one. 'Get up,' he was saying. 'Something's happening.'

Poldarn scowled and sighed. 'Chir, you bastard, there's always something happening. Can't you piss off and let me go back to sleep?'

Apparently not. He slouched across the yard and joined a mob of foundrymen, mixed up with offcomers (soldiers, the Torcea engineers, a few nonentities from the brigadier's staff; no sign of Gain Aciava, so maybe he'd dreamt him after all). They seemed excited or upset about something, and the way they were milling about round the drawing-office door suggested that they were expecting someone to come out and announce something.

Maybe it'd be worth missing sleep for, after all. 'What's going on, Chir?' he asked again, but the other man just shrugged. 'Search me,' he said. 'Malla met me a short while ago, told me something was on and they'd be issuing a statement any minute now. That's all I know.'

'Fine,' Poldarn said. 'So why'd you come and wake me up?'

Chiruwa looked surprised, even rather hurt. 'You're my friend,' he said, 'I thought you wouldn't want to miss it.'

'Oh,' Poldarn said. No, he hadn't been expecting that.

A few moments later, the door opened and Galand Dev came out. He was frowning, as though considering some technical matter that should've been straightforward but that was proving unexpectedly difficult. He looked round, then held up his hand for silence, which he got.

'Brigadier Muno's asked me to make an announcement,' he said. 'We've just had word that on his way back to Torcea, General Muno Silsny and his escort were attacked. We don't have any details as yet, but I'm sorry to say that the main point has been confirmed, direct from Torcea. General Muno Silsny is dead.'

Monach woke up out of a strange dream to find that someone was touching him. Immediately, he pushed back the instinctive response. Curious: he'd spent so many years training himself to react instantly to any intrusion into his circle, and now he was having to learn not to.

'You were shouting,' she said.

'Was I?' He grinned feebly. 'Sorry about that.'

She shrugged. 'That's all right,' she said. 'It's nearly dawn, anyhow. Was it the same dream, or a different one?'

'Different,' he replied. 'And, I don't know, more sort of odd than horrible, if you see what I mean. Did I wake up Ciartan?'

She shook her head. 'He's dead to the world,' she told him. 'Just as well,' she added. 'You know it upsets him when you get bad dreams. Also, he's teething.'

'Again?' He grinned. 'That kid's going to have more teeth than a polecat, the way he's going on.'

'He can't help it,' she said defensively. 'And he hates it when they hurt.'

'You fuss too much,' he replied, knowing it'd annoy her. 'Suppose I'd better be getting up now. We're supposed to be making an early start, aren't we?'

She shook her head. 'It's pissing it down,' she said. 'There's no point, we'd only get the wagons stuck.'

'That's all right, then.' He lay back, staring at the barn rafters. 'We'll wait for it to stop and try and make up time when we hit the military road. Does it always rain like this in this horrible country?'

'Yes,' she said. 'This time of year, anyway.'

'Bloody hell. It's a miracle anybody manages to live here.'

'They're used to it.' She pulled a blanket round her shoulders and looked at him. 'You'd better tell me about it,' she said.

'Tell you about what?'

'The dream,' she said. 'It's making you act all nasty, so it must be bothering you.'

He nodded. 'Like I said, 'he told her, 'it wasn't so much bad as strange. Bad dreams I can handle,' he added with a faint smile.

'Go on,' she said.

'Well.' He thought for a moment. 'We were back at Deymeson, all of us-you, me, Gain, Elaos, Cordo, Ciartan-and it was just after first lesson. We were in third grade, I think, but you know how you can never tell how old you are in dreams. Anyway, the lesson had been metalwork, we'd been doing casting in bronze-'

'That's odd,' she interrupted.

'Well, of course it is, that's the point. We never did that, any of us.'

She frowned. 'Hold on,' she said. 'Didn't Gain take foundry as an option in fifth grade?'

He thought about that. 'You know,' he said, 'I think you're right. Ciartan and Cordo took forgework, you and I did precious metals, Elaos-what did Elaos do? I can't remember.'

'Engraving.'

'So he did, you're right. God only knows how you remember all this stuff.'

'Practice,' she said. 'So, we were all coming out of class. Then what?'

'We were moaning,' he continued, 'about the assignment we'd just been set. We had to cast a flute-'

'You don't cast flutes. You-'

'I know that, thank you. But in the dream, we had to cast a flute, in bronze, and we weren't allowed to use a core.'

She looked blank. 'Is that good or bad?' she asked. 'I don't know anything about casting.'

'Well, I don't know a hell of a lot,' he admitted. 'But in the dream it was pretty serious, because we were all arguing like mad about it. And then Ciartan lost his temper-'

'What's odd about that?' she interrupted, smiling. 'Sounds just like real life to me.'