Memory Page 17

  Across the yard a lot of people were milling around, even though the angle of the sun told him it was ridiculously early for the day shift to be up and about, unless something was seriously wrong and he was the only man in the camp who didn’t know about it. (That’d be right.) Outside the drawing office, which was apparently where they were headed, he noticed a bunch of riding horses tied up to the tethering post; unusual sight, since nobody in the foundry had a horse – even the brigadier and his staff had come by coach as far as the Virtue and footslogged the rest of the way. One very fancy horse; white, nervous, thorough bred, with a gilded red leather saddle, worth a lot of money. Looks like we’re entertaining the quality. Is that good? Poldarn reflected on the sort of person who seemed to make good in the Empire – Tazencius, Feron Amathy – and decided no, probably not.

  ‘In there,’ said the brigadier.

  Usually the drawing office was crowded – people working, people watching other people work – but not today; there was just one man, sitting on the corner of the long, broad table that Spenno and Malla Ancola used for drawing out designs. He lifted his head as Poldarn walked in, and at once Poldarn knew who he was. The last time he’d seen him had been at some army camp in the Bohec valley, where he’d had to trick and threaten a sentry into taking responsibility for the cavalry captain he’d rescued from two murderous old women who’d been looting the dead. He remembered carrying the cavalryman all the way up from the river – he’d been trampled by his own troop’s horses, and both the man’s legs had been broken; it had been an ordeal for both of them, but the cavalryman had been rather more stoical about it. He remembered how the poor bastard had made a point of telling him his name. Muno Silsny.

  And here he was. As soon as he caught sight of Poldarn, he jumped to his feet; staggered, caught his balance and started to hurry towards him. Seated, he’d been like something off one of the grand triumphal arches in Falcata market square: pale, cold and handsome, as if his head had been cut off his head and replaced with a marble portrait bust of himself. But when he moved, Poldarn noticed, he waddled like a duck—

  Two broken legs, badly set by an overworked, apathetic surgeon; it was a miracle Muno Silsny could walk at all, all things considered. Even so; the second most important man in the Empire, bouncing along like an oversized toddler. Not something you expect to see.

  Just before breaking into Poldarn’s circle, Silsny stopped. His mouth was open, and his coin-portrait face wore a sort of idiotic, stunned expression. ‘It’s you,’ he said; then, as if he’d suddenly caught sight of himself in a mirror and remembered with a start that he was a general, ‘Here, you lot; Gianovar, Catny, Uncle – it’s him. The man who saved my life.’

  For a split second Poldarn was left wondering: yes, but is he pleased to see me or not? Then the stunned look melted into a huge boyish grin, and the general (crimson gold-trimmed cloak, best-quality gilded parade armour) took a long waddle forward and, quick as a sword-monk’s draw, reached out and hugged him so hard that the air was squeezed out of his lungs.

  ‘You’ve got no idea,’ Muno Silsny was saying, ‘how much I’ve looked forward to this. Damn it, what happened to you? I can remember you carrying me, and then I must’ve zonked out, and next thing I knew I was lying on the floor with my legs splinted, and my useless nephew Bel was leaning over me saying it was all right, I was safe, and you’d gone—’

  ‘That’s right,’ Poldarn said, with the little breath he had left. ‘I traded you for a horse. Your nephew got me one; I think he stole it from somebody.’

  Muno Silsny laughed and said, ‘He did indeed. A major from the general staff – he was absolutely livid about it. But anyhow: you left, and I never had a chance to say thank you.’

  Poldarn shrugged awkwardly. ‘Oh, it was no big deal,’ he said.

  ‘No big deal.’ Muno Silsny shook his head. ‘Well, I think it was a hell of a big deal, thanks all the same. Those ghastly old women, hovering over me like carrion crows, just about to murder me for my socks. I still get nightmares sometimes, you know.’

  This is getting embarrassing, Poldarn decided. ‘Well, I’m glad you made it in one piece,’ he said. ‘And you don’t seem to have done too badly for yourself since.’

  Behind him, he could feel the expressions on their faces: Banspati, looking like he’d just been stuffed with bread-crumbs; Uncle Muno probably scowling and shaking his head, everybody else staring and thinking, so what’s in it for us? But as far as Poldarn was concerned, he’d rather have been somewhere else. He trusted the past – and anybody who came from there – about as much as he trusted Gain Aciava (who apparently had been telling the truth, at least some of the time).

  ‘Oh, things have been going really well for me, yes,’ Muno Silsny was saying. ‘Damned if I know why, it’s not like I’m anybody special; I mean, I never did anything brave and unselfish like you did. Makes you wonder, really, what the hell makes this world tick. But at least I’ve found you again. It’s time we settled up, you know. It’s been preying on my mind.’

  Poldarn grinned feebly. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said. ‘No charge.’

  Muno Silsny laughed, as if he’d just said something funny. ‘This is absolutely amazing,’ he said. ‘I really don’t know what to say. And to think, all this time you’ve been here, just quietly getting on with it, like nothing had ever happened. Why the hell didn’t you come and see me, once I’d started getting famous and everything?’

  ‘Oh, well,’ Poldarn said. ‘I had things I had to do, you know how it is.’

  Muno Silsny was looking at him as though he’d just remembered something. ‘You told me,’ he said, ‘that day by the river, you told me you’d lost your memory. That’s right, you said you’d lost your memory and you couldn’t even remember your name or anything about who you were. I remember thinking at the time, bloody hell, that must be about as bad as it can get, worse than broken legs or even getting killed. I mean, in a way it’s a sort of death, because everything you were, which is everything you are, when you come to think about it – all gone, lost, and all you’re left with is the clothes you stand up in. Certainly as bad as being robbed, or burnt out of your house, because you don’t even know what you’ve lost. So,’ he added brightly, ‘that’s all sorted out now, is it? Everything back to normal, and here you are home again. I’m so glad about that.’

  Well, why not? Poldarn thought; and he nodded.

  ‘Wonderful,’ Muno Silsny said, slapping Poldarn hard on the shoulder. ‘So, how long was it before it all came flooding back? Days? Weeks? As long as a month? I’ve heard it can take that long, in extreme cases.’

  ‘Something like that,’ Poldarn said.

  ‘That’s awful.’ Muno Silsny shook his head sympathetically. ‘It’s terrifying, really, when you think how fragile memory can be. It’s like when someone dies, and nobody knows where he left his will or the deeds to the farm or the keys to the strongbox. All that absolutely essential stuff that only exists inside our heads, and one little tap on the head’s all it takes to lose it for ever and ever. I think I’d go mad if it happened to me. It’d be like being struck blind and deaf and dumb, all at the same time. Listen to me,’ he added, ‘I’m prattling on like a lunatic. I think it’s just because I’m so very pleased to see you again. I mean to say, it’s not every day you meet someone you owe your life to, and you’d started believing you’d maybe never see him again.’

  Thank you, and can I go now? Poldarn wanted to say. Sure, he knew that by rights this was an amazing stroke of luck, almost as good as finding the genie in the bottle, like in the old stories. Somehow, though, he felt sure that it wasn’t good luck at all, probably quite the reverse. Absolutely no idea why, of course.

  In the event, it took him a very long time to escape from Muno Silsny. Over lunch (in the drawing office; some weird and wonderful picnic of Torcean haute cuisine that Silsny had brought with him – obscure parts of rare animals drowned in thick, spicy butter sauces) he heard how Uncle had happe
ned to mention in one of his letters that they had a chap in the camp who’d lost his memory once, just like Silsny’s bloke; and as soon as he’d read that he wrote back asking for a detailed description, and of course he knew straight away that it was the same man, so he dropped everything, cancelled dinner with the Emperor, and hopped straight on the first boat he could find; and how it had been a pig of a crossing, freak winds in the Bay, had to put in thirty miles south of where he’d been intending to land, and then all the problems of getting here, with the floods and all. Over dinner (at the Virtue Triumphant; same room as the night he’d dined with Gain Aciava) he heard all about Muno Silsny’s meteoric and totally unexpected rise to power; how General Cronan had died at just the right time, though of course it was a tragedy, the best man in the Empire and that was including Tazencius, though of course nobody had heard him say that; and how at every step up the ladder he’d told himself, well, now at least I’ll be in a position to say thank you properly to the guy who saved my life that time, if ever I can find him—

  ‘So,’ Muno Silsny said at last, with a big silver goblet of wine in one hand and a pheasant drumstick in the other, ‘here we are. And the question is, what can I do for you? Anything you like – really anything, so long as I can do it or get it for you; and if I can’t, it won’t be for want of doing my absolute damnedest. You just name it, it’s yours. Well?’

  Well, Poldarn thought.

  Well, what I really want, what I want most of all in all the world, is for Gain Aciava to have been lying. Do you think you can fix that for me, General Muno?

  ‘Well,’ Poldarn said. ‘Nothing, really.’

  Muno Silsny looked at him. ‘No, seriously,’ he said.

  ‘Seriously.’ I can’t believe I just said that. Even so. ‘I honestly can’t think of anything I want, thanks all the same.’

  ‘But—’ Muno Silsny looked like a small boy who’s just been told as he’s pulling his boots on that they aren’t going to the fair after all. ‘Oh, come on,’ he said. ‘Money. A country estate, big house and loads of land. Are you married? No? Look, if you wanted me to, I might even be able to get you Tazencius’s daughter. Seriously.’

  No, thanks, Poldarn thought. I make it a rule not to marry the same woman twice if I can help it. ‘How about the woman with the cart?’ he said. ‘The one who goes around with the Mad Monk. Could you get me her?’

  A look of horror crossed Muno Silsny’s face; but he removed it immediately and said, ‘Well, I can try, certainly.’

  ‘Only joking,’ Poldarn said. ‘Look, it’s incredibly generous of you, but really, I can’t think of a single thing I want that I haven’t got right here.’

  ‘You can’t mean that.’

  Yes, I can, Poldarn thought; because what I’ve got here is nothing at all, and that’s just the way I want it to be. A big house and loads of land – I had that, at Haldersness and Ciartansdale, and I was glad to leave it behind. And the emperor’s daughter, too—

  (He hadn’t forgotten the terms on which he’d parted from Tazencius the last time they’d met; Tazencius had called him ‘my punishment’, among other things, and had made a number of threats which hadn’t meant anything to him at the time and still didn’t. Far better to keep it that way.)

  So he leaned forward (a gross intrusion into Muno Silsny’s circle, but he didn’t even seem to realise that) and said quietly: ‘Can I talk to you in private, just for a moment or so? Won’t take a minute, and then you’ll understand.’

  Muno Silsny looked up at him with surprise all over his face, like froth in a drinker’s beard; but he nodded, got up and led the way out of the inn into the stable yard. It had started to rain, and he started to take off his cloak, to offer it to Poldarn who refused it with a slight shake of his head.

  ‘Listen,’ Poldarn said, before Silsny could say anything. ‘It’s very kind of you and all, and I appreciate it, but could you please leave me alone?’

  The look in the general’s eyes was heartbreaking; kicked dogs and slapped children weren’t even in the running. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘But after what you did—’

  ‘Fine.’ For some reason, Poldarn could feel himself getting angry. He made an effort to resist the impulse. ‘It’s that old gag about no good deed going unpunished. Do you know why I’m here?’

  It was clear that Silsny hadn’t given that any thought. ‘I assumed this is – well, where you come from. What you do.’

  Poldarn shook his head. ‘This is where I am now,’ he said. ‘And yes, this is what I do, at the moment, for as long as I can. It suits me just fine. I like sleeping in a rabbit hutch and digging clay all day in the pouring rain. I like it better than being a farmer, or a blacksmith, or a courier for the Falx house; and it beats being a god into a cocked hat.’ Silsny looked at him, but Poldarn went on: ‘You’re under the impression that I’ve got my memory back. I haven’t. I still don’t know who I am. The only thing that’s changed is, I’ve reached the conclusion that I don’t want to know. And that means I want to stay clear of anybody who might tell me. Does that make any sense at all to you?’

  Silsny frowned, but nodded. ‘I guess so,’ he said. ‘But all I wanted to do was – well, make things better for you.’

  Poldarn smiled. ‘I had a go at that, too – making things better for people, I mean. Some of them are dead now, and the rest won’t forget me in a hurry. The point is,’ he went on, before Silsny could interrupt, ‘sometimes it feels like I’m walking blindfold in a small room stuffed full of fragile things, and any moment now I’m going to bump into something and break it. Everything I do, there’s a risk I’ll meet someone who knows me or I’ll jog someone’s memory and they’ll think, who does he remind me of? Oh, there’s a few things I’ve remembered, or found out about myself. For instance, it seems pretty likely that I did something – well, very bad to Prince Tazencius, many years ago; I ran into him a while back, and he didn’t seem very well disposed toward me. At the moment, I think he believes I’m either dead or a long way away. I’d rather he carried on believing that. And anybody you do a favour for – particularly if it means dashing away from Court, galloping a hundred miles over bad roads, a man in your position – it does rather tend to draw attention to the object of your bounty. Do you see what I’m getting at?’

  ‘I suppose so,’ Silsny replied, rather grudgingly. ‘I hadn’t really thought about it. I’m sorry.’

  Poldarn shrugged. ‘Don’t worry about it. Does you credit, I’m sure. Only, now I’m going to have to leave here. I guess that’s something you can do for me; I’m not allowed to leave without permission, because of this special project.’

  ‘Leave?’ Silsny looked shocked. ‘Why do you have to do that? You just said that you like it here.’

  ‘I do,’ Poldarn replied. ‘It’s great, I’m just an extra pair of hands around here, it’s all I could possibly wish for. But now we’ve had all this excitement, and the special presentation ceremony and everything—’

  ‘You don’t have to leave,’ Silsny said firmly. ‘You leave it to me, I’ll make everything all right. And truly, I’m sorry. I had no idea I’d be making things hard for you. After all, I owe you my life—’

  ‘Not any more,’ Poldarn said. ‘Forget about it, like it never happened. Make that my special favour.’

  ‘All right.’ Silsny pulled a wry face. ‘If that’s what you want. But here.’ Impulsively, he pulled a heavy gold ring off his finger. ‘I don’t know how much this is worth, but I’d guess it’d buy a house and enough land to keep someone comfortable. And nobody needs to know you’ve got it, or where it came from. Please, take it. It’s not enough, but at least it’s something.’

  It matters to him, Poldarn thought; it matters enough that he probably won’t go away unless I accept. ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘That makes us square.’

  ‘Almost.’ Silsny smiled. ‘Personally, though, I’d value my life at slightly more than that. I mean, if I was killed on the road by robbers and all they stole was that ring,
I’d figure it was rotten value for money. So I want you to take this, as well.’

  Poldarn looked at the object he was being offered. He felt he ought to recognise it, but he didn’t; some kind of small badge or brooch, with a pin and a keeper on the back. ‘What’s that?’ he said.

  Silsny nodded. ‘Army stuff,’ he said with a grin. ‘Basically, it’s a combination safe passage and get-out-of-trouble token; show it to a watch sergeant or a guard commander and unless he’s got specific orders to the contrary from the Emperor or myself, he’ll say sorry for troubling you and forget he ever saw you. Or if you need to get someone’s attention in a hurry, something of that sort, it’s good for that, too.’ His grin spread a little. ‘They tell me that the going rate for these things among the gang bosses in Torcea is up around the five thousand mark; not that I’d want to put ideas in your head, of course.’

  ‘Of course.’ Poldarn thought for a moment, then took the badge and pinned it to the inside of his collar, out of sight. ‘Reminds me of a story I must’ve heard once, about a hat or a cloak or something that made you invisible.’

  ‘I know the one you mean,’ Silsny said. ‘Poldarn’s hood, from the time when he defeated the spirit of the fire-mountain. I always wanted one of them for my birthday when I was a kid, but all I ever got was socks.’

  It didn’t take long to clear up the misunderstanding. Somehow, a rumour had got about that General Muno Silsny, commander-in-chief of the Imperial forces, had come all the way to Dui Chirra (breaking off from a crowded schedule and riding through the night along flooded roads) to visit with an old friend or something of the sort. Not so. General Silsny had, in fact, come to the foundry to make a personal inspection of the Poldarn’s Tube project – prompted, it had to be said, by the alarming lack of progress that his uncle had felt obliged to report directly to him. What more telling indication could there be of the importance that Torcea placed on the project than an impromptu inspection by the second most powerful man in the Empire (and so on). Silsny left the next day, having put the fear of several pantheons of gods into Spenno and Galand Dev. (He’d smiled at them, been extremely polite, and assured them that he didn’t blame either of them personally: rumour had it that Galand Dev didn’t stop quivering until late the next morning.) Assurances had been made by everybody concerned that work – actual sawing of wood and pounding of metal – would start the very next day, or the day after that at the very latest.