We need a better system, Madison thought, bouncing on the saddleless back of the Eshad leader’s horse.
For transport? I agree. Ulysses had never been fond of horses and the rolled-up blanket that the woman had condescended to provide was not doing much to protect them.
No- well, actually yes. Tell me why we can’t just teleport back to Trailsend?
Teleportation is flashy, a huge expenditure of power. I do not know why the Stranger has not come for us yet- it could be that he is disinterested, or it could be that he cannot find us. Given all the trouble he went to to acquire both of us, I doubt that it is the former. And if it is the latter, I do not want to tempt fate by making us easier to find. Ulysses did the mental equivalent of looking away and rubbing the back of his neck. Also, I never mastered the teleport spell.
What do you mean you never mastered teleport, that’s like the most useful one!
I spent my entire adult life trying to lay low and avoid detection by an elite group of spymaster wizards. Learning to teleport would have been the equivalent of affixing an enormous archery target to the back of my skull.
Point. But I was talking about a system for memories. Madison shifted her grip on the leader’s back as the horse shifted its gait. Don’t get me wrong- touching that memory was a dick move and a huge violation of my privacy.
I am sorry for that.
Don’t apologize again, it comes off as insincere. But- and this is a caveat I am being very generous in making- it did have some useful information. I don’t know how much you can see from my perspective, but when you did whatever you did, I relived it like I was there. Full-on hallucination. Torek-in said I was completely frozen for a few heartbeats.
The memory was much longer than that, wasn’t it?
Yeah, which is probably a good thing. It means if we want info from a memory we don’t have to play the whole thing out in real time. And that’s my point- there’s probably some use in being able to access memories like that.
Ulysses lay back in the golden grass and stared up at the wheeling thoughts above him. A memory rose from the sea and fell up into the grass, changing color as it did so. The memories we call to the foreground are always changed by the act of remembering. They’re never exactly the same as they were.
Yeah, sure, Madison replied, feeling a lot less philosophical. But it feels like maybe you’re intercepting them before they change? Like, okay, pick something for me to remember, and I’ll remember it, and then touch the memory and see if it’s different.
You’re asking me to pick an event from your own life? How am I to know what your experiences are?
Pick something we both remember, then. There’s gotta be some overlap, we ran in the same circle for like a month.
Ulysses hummed, thinking. May I make a selfish request?
Yeah, but I get to turn it down if it sucks.
Of course. Do you remember the day you tried to kill Nikolai?
A wave of memories came rushing up from the ocean, swirling past Ulysses in a multicolored tide. On the horse, Madison tightened her grasp on Torek-in. Obviously.
May I?
Madison hesitated, then nodded. Ulysses reached out and touched one bobbing light.
Her hand was on her father’s wand and she was snarling out a curse in the middle of the cobblestoned road. She snapped her hand up in a sharp breaking-glass motion and the jagged bolt flew through the air- a war-sorcerer’s curse, the legacy of a man who was lost to his wife and child but could still give her this much. Her aim was unpracticed but it didn’t need to be perfect, not at this range, she couldn’t miss, that man had killed her friend and he needed to die-
Ulysses pulled back from the memory. He could feel their body shaking. Tears were rolling down Madison’s cheeks, whipped away by the wind.
Why? she asked, and he knew what she meant.
If I hadn’t stopped you, we both would have been killed. You, for being a clear assassin, and me, for failing to protect the baron’s beloved son.
You could have killed him yourself. You trained with evil spy wizards your whole life and you never learned how to kill someone without getting caught?
Ulysses closed his eyes. He could still see the thoughts and memories bobbing around him, sunlight against pink eyelids. I was afraid.
Figured. Same reason you didn’t do anything to stop the others from taking your entire body away, right?
Was there a point to this exercise or are we just going to relitigate my failings?
I mean, I could go on. But the point was that when I first thought about that memory, it was just impressions. When you touched it, we were both full-force thrown into the exact feelings and perceptions. Reliving it like we were there again. The horse began to slow down, and Madison relaxed her grip on Torek-in’s armor. There’s gotta be something we could get out of that.
Hmm. Ulysses watched the approaching barbarian camp with trepidation. Or we could be burned at the stake for demonic possession.
Wood’s valuable on the plains. They’d probably just kill us.
Madison swung off the horse with rather more grace than Ulysses felt he could have managed. The Eshad scouts led them through the outskirts of the camp, keeping a careful eye on them. They’re making sure we don’t run off and go further into the camp, Madison explained. Enna gave me the rundown on some of the barbarian tribes. The Eshadin are isolationists.
Was “isolationists” the word that Enna used?
No, it was “real dickbags.” But I got the gist.
There was more discussion around them and they were indicated to take a seat on some boxes that were scattered around. Ulysses cast Comprehend Languages again and their words faded into something understandable.
“Our leader is coming soon,” the woman who’d led them there explained, raising an eyebrow at Madison when she indicated that she understood her again. “You will address him as Chieftain, or sir. You will not try any of your outlander tricks on him. Do you understand?” They nodded, and the woman folded her arms and sat down across from them.
You are going to be doing the talking, I assume.
Ulysses, I wouldn’t trust you with this further than I could throw you. And given that you are currently a voice in my head, and therefore unthrowable, that should give you a pretty good idea of how much I am absolutely doing the talking.
Ulysses sighed and sat back in the grass. The golden thread was wound tightly around his wrist. If he closed his eyes here- wherever here was- he could feel the heat of the sun overhead and the grit of the dirt that had made its way into their thin shoes. It was disconcerting. Maybe that dissonance was part of why he hadn’t yet panicked over the fact that he was trapped, perhaps permanently, in the mind of someone who was at best annoyed with him and at worst actively hostile towards him. Or perhaps, after months of separation from his own body, he had simply gotten out of the habit of panicking at all.
Look sharp. The leader’s here. If shit goes bad, I want you ready to bust us out.
Alternately, maybe he just trusted Madison to know what she was doing.
Madison made an attempt to brush dust off of the hem of her dress as the chieftain approached. He was an old man, bent almost double over a well-polished walking stick. Walking half a step behind him was a middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair and a sour look on his face. An attendant rushed behind with a hide-covered stool that was placed in front of them. The old man lowered himself gratefully into it and smiled at them.
“So, you’re the falling star that my scouts found in the plains?” he asked, his voice hoarse with age. His face was open and friendly, but the man still standing behind him was glaring daggers at them.
Madison smiled at him, her best dealing-with-an-elderly-customer smile. “Yes, sir. I do apologize for depriving your scouts of their star-metal.”
He laughed, a loud wheeze of genuine humor. “A star with manners! How unexpected. I am Grynulf, the chieftain of this clan. This mistrustful scowler behind me is Absar, who will rule after I am gone if he ever learns to have fun.” Absar’s scowl deepened at that. “Now tell me, who are you and how did you come to cause such a fuss?”
Madison bowed her head, a universally-respectful gesture that hopefully didn’t mean something obscene here. “My name is Madison Heatherlock, sir. I was recently imprisoned by an evil wizard and his demon companions.” Ulysses supposed that he was the evil wizard here, which was fair, actually. “I was able to escape, but I fear I am far from the lands that I know.”
Grynulf waved away an attendant who was trying to fan him. “Torek-in tells me that you cast a spell to be able to understand her, and another to keep away the rain. How are we to trust that you are neither an outlander wizard nor a demon?” He tapped his fingers meditatively on his staff. “It would explain your sudden appearance, as well as your strange eyes.”
“I was-“ Madison paused, thrown off her rhythm. “I am sorry, sir, what about my eyes is strange?”
The barbarian chief leaned forward. “You claim you are not aware?” At Madison’s shocked expression, he tapped a gnarled finger under his own eye. “One is a deep brown, while the other one is light and reddish. Not outside the realm of possibility for a normal human, but strange when taken into account with your unusual arrival.”
Madison clapped a hand over her mouth to hide her shocked expression- unsuccessfully, given the smile that Grynulf gave her. What color are your eyes, Ulysses?
Light brown. Nearly rust-colored. What is happening?
If my hair starts going blonde, I’m drowning you in that ocean you keep telling me about. Her tone was light, but Ulysses could see the grasses swirling under an agitated wind.
If you need me to steer for a bit, I can.
The wind died down as Madison took her hand from her mouth. I’m fine. If that’s the weirdest thing that comes from having you in my head, I’ll live. Madison took a deep breath and managed to smile at the old man. “I did not know that. I only escaped yesterday. It must have happened sometime then. Please, sir, I know the Eshadin are traders- I would be willing to make a deal for safe passage out of the plains.”
The old man’s bushy eyebrows raised up to where his hairline would have been if he’d had more than a few wispy strands of hair. “You know quite a bit of our ways for an outlander. Most of your people lump us all in together.”
“I have a… a friend,” Madison managed, her smile turning wistful. “She is from a Roshman tribe, and she told me quite a bit about the plains.”
The old man nodded. “Perhaps we crossed paths with her at Bildoobaris recently. What tribe is she from?”
Memories swirled around Ulysses, but none distinct enough for him to make out. “I’m not sure. Her name is Crush-Your-Enemies-See-Them-Driven-“
Absar took a full step back, and Grynulf inhaled sharply. He doubled over, coughing, and Absar rushed to his side, glaring at Madison like it was her fault. Grynulf caught his breath and waved Absar away. “No, no, I’m fine. I’ve still got a few years in me left, you overserious bastard.” Absar protested, but shut his mouth when Grynulf gave him a loaded look. Madison looked between the two men, trying to figure out what had been so startling. Grynulf took a deep breath and looked back to Madison. His face was carefully composed. “I do apologize, I believe something got in my mouth. Your friend- what was her name again?”
“Crush-Your-Enemies-See-Them-Driven-Before-You-And-Hear-The-Lamentation-Of-Their-Women Johnson,” Madison replied, trying to keep her curiosity out of her voice. “Do you know her?”
“Perhaps,” Grynulf replied, settling his hands on the knob of his walking stick. “What is she like?”
This may not be a good idea, Ulysses said, winding and unwinding the thread around his fingers. Wasn’t Enna banished from her tribe? Is it a good thing to be associated with her?
It’s too late to back out now, Madison replied, and squared her shoulders. “Um. She’s about this much taller than me. She’s a tiefling, with a tattoo here-” Madison indicated her neck and collarbone- “and horns that curve like this-” Madison swooped her hands around her ears- “and bright red skin.” Ulysses tried to avoid touching any of the memories that were now floating around him. There was no knowing just how much of Enna’s skin was going to be in them, and that was one mental image he had absolutely no desire to see.
The two men shared a look. “And you are… close to this friend?”
They could feel the color rising to their cheeks. “Yes.”
Absar bent down to whisper in Grynulf’s ear. The two shared a quick conference, darting looks at Madison. She twisted her hands in the filmy fabric of her skirt. Ulysses, if you see any memories that look useful, you’ve got my permission to access them.
I do not think either of us have any memories pertaining to barbarian negotiations, but if I see any I will let you know.
Absar straightened up and strode away from the chieftain. Grynulf nodded at them, his smile careful and pleasant. “A friend of that woman is a friend of our tribe. You said that you were seeking safe passage out of our lands?”
Madison nodded, and only Ulysses could tell that she was hiding her surprise. “Yes, towards Damara. If you can get me to the nearest Damaran town, I am sure I can make my way from there.”
“Anything you need, the tribe of Cadain will be happy to supply.” Grynulf bowed deeply to her, to the audible shock of the Eshadin around them. “Absar has gone to speak with our master of horse about a suitable gift for you, and all your other needs will be attended to by our tribe’s quartermaster.”
“I- I’m sorry, you’re giving me a horse?” There wasn’t any point in hiding her surprise now, given the mutterings of the people around them.
“Of course,” Grynulf said, rising to his feet and indicating that she should follow. “We are quite conscious of the debt we owe to the King, after all. We ask only that you tell your friend who was so generous to you when you see her next.”
Madison got up and began to follow the surprisingly speedy old man. “Of course. I am sure that Enna will be, ah, very appreciative of the kindness that you have done for me.” She didn’t miss the shocked expression that flashed across Grynulf’s face when she used the nickname.
We can agree that that was weird, yeah? Barbarians don’t usually have kings, and hardcore isolationist traders don’t usually give shit away for free?
Not that I know of. I don’t suppose Enna ever gave you a conveniently exhaustive breakdown of barbarian social structure that you would like for me to tap into?
I don’t think so. Not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth on this one, though.
Quite literally.
Yes, Ulysses, that was the joke.
Their meeting with the quartermaster, a woman with her leg in a brace and a friendly expression that only wavered when Grynulf mentioned that her supplies were to be given as gifts, was even weirder. Grynulf explained that Madison was “a companion of the King,” which sent the quartermaster into a frenzy of politeness and deep bows that Madison could only hope wouldn’t tip her out of her chair. After Grynulf left, attended by servants who kept glancing nervously at Madison, the woman only got more formal, almost falling over herself to offer Madison the entire contents of her stores. When Madison asked her her name, trying to be polite, she beamed at her with unsettling intensity.
“I’m called Dayviyan, after the great hero. And may I say, miss, that you’d be hard-pressed to find someone more appreciative of the King than myself. There’s nobody who knows the limits of a tribe’s endurance like the quartermaster, and if that awful man hadn’t been driven off, we would have reached those limits too soon indeed.”
Madison smiled and nodded like that all made total sense to her. “Of course. If you’d like, I’d be happy to pass along your appreciation to the King.”
“Oh, gods bless you, miss, that’d be quite generous of you.” Dayviyan looked at her, clearly too polite to comment on the ruined state of her clothes. “Now, what can I get for you? The tribe of Cadain does rather well for itself, so I am sure we can accomodate any of your needs.”
“I appreciate it.” Did Enna depose someone and put someone else on the throne? What happened while I was gone?
Whoever this king is, we’ll do well to pretend like we know him. I’ve made trips like this before- we’ll need all the advantage we can get.
If you know more about rations than I do, you’re steering. Ulysses felt a pull on the golden thread and allowed himself to settle into their body.
“Could I see your stores, ma’am? We’ll need a few supplies, and a map if possible.”
Dayviyan looked confused for a moment. Madison could have slapped their forehead. “The horse and I, of course,” she said, shoving Ulysses out of the way. “Taking proper care of your mount is so important, don’t you think?” We? Come on, man.
The quartermaster beamed at them again. “Oh, of course! I hope you do not take offense to this, but it is rare for an outlander to be so concerned with their mount’s well-being on a journey. Truly friends of the King are rare heroes indeed!” Madison stepped back to let Ulysses steer again. She didn’t roll her eyes, but Ulysses could feel the impulse.
She showed them around a few wagons, chattering away about pack-weight optimization and light camping options. Thankfully, this was a topic of genuine interest for Ulysses, and he was able to hold his own in the conversation quite well. He was in the middle of a discussion about the relative merits of linen versus leather tent canopies when he heard a man clear his throat behind them. Absar was standing rather awkwardly between two wagons, holding a horse’s lead and making an expression like his face didn’t know what to do if it wasn’t scowling. He handed them the lead and bowed stiffly.
“The tribe of Cadain offers you a steed as a gift for your journey. She is the descendant of a mount owned by the chief himself, and has the stamina to walk for many days with little rest.” The horse was barrel-shaped, with a bristle-brush mane, and was not much taller than the man holding her. Muscles rippled under her thick coat. Ulysses was suddenly extremely out of his depth.
Madison stepped forward with an outstretched hand to pat her white nose. “She’s beautiful. What’s her name?”
Absar bowed again. Madison figured that this was his way of covering up for the fact that he had no idea how to act around them. “Her name is Shas. She will be able to carry you to your destination.”
Madison bowed back. “Thank you, Absar. The tribe of Cadain is truly generous to friends of the King.”
Dayviyan and Ulysses loaded the horse up with bed-rolls and saddlebags. Most importantly, Madison picked out a good selection of traveling-clothes and sturdy shoes for the road. They thanked Dayviyan again, who gave them a broad smile and a tight hug. When she realized what she’d done, she apologized, but Madison stepped forward to hug her back and she nearly burst into tears. “Good luck on your journey, hero,” she said, dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve. Madison swung onto the horse and took out the compass she’d provided for them. Based on what Dayviyan had said, it would be several days’ journey to Trailsend. They needed to get moving. As they left, Dayviyan waved at them from the edge of the camp until the distance made her a hazy dot on the horizon.
Author's Notes:
Written 9/19/2020, or at least put into Google Docs on that day. Madison and Ulysses make progress!