Chapter 7

Serinda

            “What are you doing?” Allegra inquired as she watched me sit down and close my eyes, trying to ignore the somewhat bumpy trail our wagon rolled across.

            We were heading for a town by the name of Dufton. There supplies could be restocked and decent baths could be had at an inn. The group of bards were apparently yearly regulars and well-received each time they appeared, or so they told me. Casimiro struck me as one to exaggerate. I had moved my things to the blue wagon with the Farfalla siblings, not wishing to intrude on the privacy of Donatella and her husband. Though subtle, she seemed intent on getting me out of black and into more flattering colors as soon as possible. On that, she and Corim had been in agreement. She had been sure to take my measurements before I had left, muttering about shades and hues of blue. Now here we were on our way.

            We rode behind the red wagon driven by Casimiro, Leandro at the head of this one. I sat with my knees drawn up and leaning against the wall.

            “I'm concentrating,” I answered the girl, willing myself to relax. “It's how I retrieve memories.”

            “Is it really so hard?” she pressed, puzzled.

            “It depends on the memory,” I replied. “It's like searching for a book in a library. The ones most familiar to you are the easiest to find. If it isn't a book you know, then you at least need an idea of what you're looking for. Granted it will get you more results than you ask for, and not always the right one. But it may point you in the right direction.”

            “And the memory you were talking about is one of those?” she continued to prod.

            I nodded, refusing to open my eyes. I wanted to concentrate,. To clear my mind and block her out. I needed quiet, as close to tranquility as possible.

            “Actually, I know next to nothing about it. However, I can make some assumptions. One of which is that it is old. Most important and powerful things are. The question is how far back.” I explained, then took a deep, cleansing breath. And how much it will evade me.

            “So it's like trying to remember something from hundreds of years ago,” ventured Allegra.

            “Correct. Or, in this case, possibly thousands. Now, please, hush.”

            I had no intention of being rude. Answering her questions just made it difficult. She had probably been about to speak again, but she was stopped when the curtain separating us from the outside world was pulled back by her brother.

            “Leave her be, sorella. Practice your routines or something.” I heard him say.

            “With a bumpy ride like this? You're joking.”

            “Then do something else. Just be quiet.”

            Finally, my body relaxed. My hands went limp on my knees. The voices slowly drifted away, dwindling to nothing. I could focus.

            I hadn't an idea what I was looking for other than ancient. Unfortunately, the older the memory, the harder it was to pull back. Such memories were the dusty old tomes hidden away in solitary nooks and crannies. You had to search for them and blow away the dust to slowly draw out their stories. To make matters worse, this one would struggle against me.

            Don't think about that. Relax.

            Soon I was floating through memories like an otter on the water. They came easily, steadily as I wandered ever further back. It was like being carried down a river.

            Blades ran in the night as steel met steel...

            The plans for the construction of the Mage Collegium were laid out before me, my son slumbering peacefully in my arms...

            I knelt before the altar of the dragon god. They called me a cultist, a traitor to my own people. But I knew better. We could not fight the dragons, not successfully, not without leading ourselves into annihilation. The war could not go on. We must make peace.

            I almost stopped at that one. Already I had gone back at least a thousand years. It was the memory of a dragon priestess from the times before the Alliance, when humans and dragons had been at war. Their objective had been each other's destruction. Only the combined efforts of tolerant individuals from both sides stopped the slaughter. They became the first Rider partnerships and the instigators of the Alliance that persisted to this very day.

            Never had I had a memory like this. This woman could have been one of the brave first Riders. Such a thing was incredibly historic. Why hadn't Corim ever mentioned it?

            Intellectual curiosity tempted me to stay with it, to continue to learn about the dragon priestess. It would have been so easy to stay and just watch her life unfold. I wanted to see what had happened to her, what had brought her to that moment in front of the long-dead god. But that wasn't my priority. Finding that memory was. I had to go further.

            Come now, where are you? I need you. I thought impatiently.

            Memory after memory came and went before me. Happy moments, triumphant victories, domestic squabbles. Small things, big things. Some caught my interest and I made little mental notes to myself to revisit them at a more appropriate time. Others I found to be the epitome of monotony. They seemed to stretch on forever. Yet I refused to relent. Giving up was not an option.

            And then there was something. A thing so brief that I scarcely realized it was there. It was the shortest of whispers and sense of obscurity. Then it seemed to flounce away the moment I took notice of it. Not wasting a minute, I pursued it.

            It was like chasing after a fish. Everytime I neared it, about to make sense of the mutterings and almost imperceptible flashes of images, it slipped from my grasp. Each time I struggled to keep up with it. I tried to reach out with invisible fingers, tried to wrest it from its path and hold it. Eventually I caught something, a measly word hanging like a thread.

            And then, like a sudden breeze, it was gone, fled like a hare from a trap. The word I had clung to had disappeared as if it were never there. Then, to make matters worse, I was instantly diverted to another memory.

            I smirked cheekily at the black-haired boy in front of me, his arms crossed and a brow raised. For so short a man, he seemed to have girls falling all over him. He's not that handsome, I thought with an insolent sniff. With that nose he might as well have been a bird. A short, skinny bird.

            “You're serious, aren't you?” he shook his head, appearing to be caught between annoyance and bemusement.

            “Yes.” I shot back. “Don't tell me Corim Danyr is afraid of a little bet.”

            “I would hardly call your proposal 'little'” he said with a wry smile. “The penalty for losing is quite steep.”

            “Daunted?”

            “More impressed that a fourteen year old girl is willing to get a mermaid tattooed onto her arse if she loses,” Danyr answered smoothly, trying to hide the fact that my presence bothered him.

            “And you think you're so much older? You've only got four years on me.”

            “Four years is a long time, Shaebury.”

            “So deal or no deal?” I pressed smartly.

            He took a moment to consider the stakes, I waiting patiently, roughing up my already wild short, red hair. I knew he'd accept. If he didn't do it for the sake of the challenge, then it would be fore the chance to revel in the embarrassment of the girl that loved to be a thorn in his preciously perfect side. After some thought, he beamed and I knew it was official. Hook, line, and sinker.

            “Very well, Shaebury. Consider it a deal.” concluded Danyr with a look of idle triumph. That wouldn't last long. “Whoever manages to steal old Harlin's gloves wins. Loser get the tattoo.”

            We extended our hands to shake on it. Then, as we were about to clasp hands, he cleared his throat.

            “And the lost must show the winner the tattoo. Deal?” he added.

            I grabbed his gloved hand without hesitation and gave it a good shake.

            “Deal.”

            We separated and parted ways, returning to our masters. Or at least I was. For all I knew, Danyr was probably running off to one of his many obnoxiously high-pitched, pretty figured fools. He had all the time in the world.

            And why shouldn't he? I'd already nicked them this morning.

            I shook my head, cradling it in my hand as if that would relieve the sudden throbbing pain in my skull. I gritted my teeth, tears of frustration and agony streaming from eyes squeezed shut. It hurt. Gods, it hurt. It was like an incessant pressure was building and building inside my head. My body felt cold and bone-weary. Was this all the memory's doing?

            I had had headaches before as a result of memory searching, but not like this. Usually they were only mild, a simple irksome thing that could be tolerated. At worst they would be moderate and only a nap or brew of herbs could cure them. But never had they reached this degree of pain. It made me want to cry out, to curl up into a ball and block everything out. I couldn't even think. I just wanted it to stop.

            “Serinda, what happened?” Allegra exclaimed worriedly, her hand at my back.

            “The memory...” I hissed through my teeth, my head pounding like a drum. The bouncing of the wagon did nothing to ease my discomfort (though that word was an absolute understatement).

            Allegra left me to pull back the curtain, letting in a gust of frigid air.

            “Leandro, how far are we from Dufton?” she demanded of her brother hurriedly.

            “About an hour. Why? What's happened?” he answered her, bewildered by her vehemence.

            “Serinda. She isn't well.” she told him, so small and thin that the wind probably could have blown her away and carried her off. Yet she stood firmly, her tiny feet planted firmly to the floor as if anchored by roots.

            I wanted to say I would be fine, that it would go away after a decent rest. But every muscle in my body was either clenched or exhausted. An odd, if infuriating paradox.

            Breathe, I reminded myself, as Corim had when I had gotten headaches from prolonged searching. Just breathe. Calm yourself. Pain goes away.

            I breathed as the siblings argued. Deep. Deeper. In and out. I thought only of the in and out. My jaw unclenched and my limbs did not feel so much like jelly. I looked to the Farfallas.

            “I just need to rest,” I said weakly, not expecting to be heard.

            To my surprise, they did. Somehow over their minor din, my soft-spoken words had reached them. Brother and sister turned to me, concern and confusion in their shared hazel eyes.

            “Once we get to the inn, I can sleep. Then I will be fine.” I informed them with a wan smile. “It's just a bad headache. They are common afflictions for Memoriums. Too much memory searching at one time can do that.”

            While I had most certainly diluted the severity of said headache, Allegra and Leandro visibly relaxed, their worry lessened. Leandro let out a sigh of relief, then smiled kindly.

            “Take it easy for a moment then. You've been sitting there all morning.” he suggested helpfully. “And Allegra, don't bother her.”

            “I'm not stupid!” she snapped indignantly.

            “I don't think you are. Just chatty.” he shrugged, letting the curtain drop and returning his attention to the horses ahead of him.

            Allegra glared at the hanging blue fabric with her hands on her hips. Her pretty, petite face was screwed up in exasperation. She halfheartedly kicked at some multicolored garment of silk lying on the floor. It reluctantly flew up into the air, then billowed back down.

            “Do you have any brothers?” she suddenly asked me.

            I glanced up at her. I gingerly pushed my spectacles up the bridge of my nose. Rarely did anyone ever ask about my family. To everyone else, I was simply a Memorium. People didn't see us as someone's child or sibling. We were just there to serve a purpose.

            “I have an older brother,” I replied. “His name is Willard.”

            I hadn't spoken his name in years. I'd never had reason to, nor the urge. No one ever asked. Only Corim knew anything about him outside my own little town.

            “Does he ever treat you like a child?” Allegra continued, a nettled edge to her voice.

            “I haven't seen him in years. I doubt he would recognize me.” I answered truthfully.

            She sighed heavily, sat down cross-legged. The girl propped her chin in her hands.

            “Consider yourself lucky,” complained Allegra. “For as much as they love you, they seem dead-set on making you feel like a stupid baby.”

            Personally I had no experience with such things. But I held memories of those that did. In a way, I knew how she felt. I knew how she probably felt infantilized and stifled by her brother's well-intentioned protection. How his knowledge of her faults loomed over her, unspoken but always there like a dark cloud preparing to release the rain it held inside. Not every case was the same, but many were similar. There was always some precarious balance between inferiority and superiority.

            “It's the way elder siblings are. They usually mean well, even if it doesn't always seem like it,” I shrugged, not precisely certain what else to say.

            “Doesn't make it much better,” groaned Allegra.

            “I suppose not,” I said awkwardly, then fell silent.

            I had little skill in dealing with people. That had been Corim's area of expertise, not mine. He had been able to make people laugh and smile and persuade. I succeeded in intimidating, angering, and ruffling the feathers of most that had the misfortune of disagreeing with me. Any casual conversation involving me was amicable, but impersonal. Corim had simply possessed an effortless warmth and playfulness that I significantly lacked. For all the memories shelved within my mind, I failed to form connections as easily as he had. I was not automaton, but human emotion baffled me, it too often left me without an acceptable way to react. I was practical, not emotional. Where my master had happily conversed and gone out to taverns for the sake of liveliness, I found sanctuary in a quiet room surrounded by books and research.

            Repeating my deep breathing, I settled back, nursing my nasty headache. I eagerly anticipated sleeping in a bed, and maybe some time alone.

            Soon we began to hear the low buzz of many people talking and shrieks of excitement, which caused my headache to almost leap. Allegra joined her brother outside, her former state of melancholy seemingly forgotten in the bustle of welcome. Tentatively, I got to my feet, as unsteady as a newborn calf. My head swam and my arm shot out to brace myself against the wall. Steadily the wagon came to a halt. The noise had diminished somewhat. The curtain was pulled back to reveal Leandro, his muscular arms outstretched to help me down. I certainly was not complaining as he carefully set me down on the ground. He pulled my hood back slightly to see my face.

            “You look a bit pale,” he noted. “Would you like me to walk you to the room?”

            I only nodded, tired. I remembered Corim had been in such a situation as mine on more than one occasion. Sometimes he had required my help with walking up stairs, which made me thankful he had never been a large man. Every now and then someone had offered to aid me, whether or not I accepted had depended on how weary my master was. Now I was the one needing help.

            Leandro put his arm about my shoulders to keep me steady. I shivered at the sudden cold, blinking in the sunlight. The wagons had been stopped outside a remarkably large inn. The sign above the tall red door featured a serpentine dragon holding an overflowing tankard in its claws, foam dripping onto its scales. The others already stood by the entrance in animated conversations with the townspeople. Girls swarmed around Casimiro, peppering his face with kisses of fond welcome and gleeful giggles. Various men and women spoke to Donatella and Fiore, many with children. Allegra laughed and joked with a small group, all around her age and mostly male. She grinned and waved when she caught site of us.

            “We're quite popular here,” Leandro told me. “We visit here about once a year for a week or two.”

            Beneath my hood, I frowned, my eyes widened. I couldn't wait that long. I needed to get to the Collegium and Conservatory as fast as possible. Every day I wasted was another day that whatever rotted in Laeith festered. Surely they understood that.

            Donatella's friendly smile faded when she saw me. Casimiro did not even seem to notice. How does a man like him become a leader of anything? I thought.

            “Serinda, are you alright?” Donatella asked with concern.

            “She has a headache,” Allegra answered for me. “Said it was a Memorium thing.”

            “Well, let's get her to a room then,” she sighed, then glanced at her husband.

            The man nodded and pulled on Casimiro's arm to get his attention. He grinned, then bid a poetic farewell to his fair maidens to lead us inside the inn. I caught its name embossed on the door, The Laughing Dragon. The name already seemed fitting.

            Inside it was warm and the smell of sugar and almonds permeated the air. Were my head not pounding, the aroma might have made me peckish. As it was, however, my only desire was to lie down. Much like the Ranger's Rest, there were plenty of freshly polished tables and a roaring fire that seemed to beckon to each and every guest. Except it was far larger and probably had multiple floors of rooms. People were laughing and talking casually about anything and everything. Various paintings adorned the walls, most displaying the establishment's theme of dragons. Most of them, however, did not appear to be laughing, which in my mind begged the question as to whether dragons could laugh at all. Serving girls scurried to and fro like mice, carrying trays of  food and drink. There was an interesting looking spiraled staircase toward the back that led upstairs. A bit of an extravagant thing for an inn, but then again, this place hardly seemed like a common side-of-the-rode business. And then, barely a step from our little congregation, so silent I had not even realized he was there until I turned my head, stood the tallest, bulkiest, broad-shouldered man I had ever seen. He looked as though he were half giant.

            “Was wondering when your little group would show up,” he uttered, and, for all his intimidating, hulking appearance, smiled with genuine pleasantry.

            Casimiro beamed and vigorously shook the big man's hand. When I looked closer at him, I could discern that he was still a relatively young man. He was perhaps twenty-five or twenty-six. The beard did not completely hide his youth.

            “Garth, it has been far too long, my colossal friend,” Casimiro greeted him in a jovial tone. “You would not believe the trouble that held us up in Lieder.”

            “I can guess, Cas. With you, it's usually women trouble.” the giant said with a hint of amusement. Casimiro only grinned back at him, nonplussed.

            “Not always my fault, mind you.” he replied casually. “If a woman with an unfaithful husband invites me into her empty bed, it is only decent that I accept.”

            “And drag us into a wild goose chase across the city trying to outrun her angry husband,” Leandro muttered in my ear. If my head didn't hurt, I might have laughed. But I did show a small smile.

            “Mum will be right out to get your room. But I'd ready myself for a tongue-lashing if I were you.” Garth was so kind as to tell us, jerking his thumb behind him.

            “Still angry, eh?”

            “Yep.”

            “So off I go to face the dragon lady then,” laughed the bard fearlessly, then took us to the front counter. Leandro kept a supportive arm around me, giving me a warmth I appreciated. Was he always this warm naturally?

            From a room behind the counter bustled in a short, stocky, middle-aged woman. Her face, brown as a nut, had only a few lines around her mouth and cat-like eyes. Her long chestnut brown hair frosted with gray was tied back neatly, though some locks of hair had escaped and hung in disarray here and there. A simple gown of green hung about her form, a rumpled square cloth tucked into her belt. What shocked me, however, was the crisscross scar marking her neck. She had been smiling with accomplishment upon entering, but that vanished for a split second when she laid her eyes on us, then the upward curve of her lips swiftly returned. Those golden-brown eyes landed on me with curiosity.

            “Well, well, it's about time you got yourself a girl, Leandro,” she said with a nod of approval. “And a pretty little dear she is too.”

            I raised a brow quizzically, wondering if she truly meant me. But then, we were in a pose that could have been taken in a rather wrong way, what with his arm around me. Leandro blushed and opened his mouth to correct her. Yet Casimiro interrupted him, having ideas of his own.

            “And what makes you think she isn't mine?” he interjected. She planted her hands on her wide hips, glowering at him.

            “Because you wouldn't take a girl halfway out of town, which I happen to know quite well after your little stint last year, thank you very much,” the innkeeper admonished him sternly.

            Casimiro stepped back. He held his hands up in mock surrender, struggling to keep his smile pasted on. For as much as he tried to hide it, the woman could easily subdue him, if only a little, like how a child feared its mother's wrath.

            “Tova, Tova, my sharp-tongued lovely,” he spoke silkily, his green orbs shining. “I assure you, had I known she had felt so strongly for me I would have broken it to her gently.”

            Tova snorted and dropped three gleaming keys into the rakish bard's open palm.

            “Your usual rooms,” she grumbled. “And I better not find you with one of my girls this time.”

            “I swear, you'll find me on my best behavior,” he grinned broadly, tossing one of the keys to Leandro.

            Leandro excused himself and led me up the stairs. I was grateful I had accepted his help, for I nearly slipped on at least three steps. I didn't pay much attention to what the room looked like once we stepped inside. All I saw were the three beds. I had barely removed my cloak when I collapsed onto one of them. Leandro said something I didn't quite hear, then left me to sleep.

            I embraced slumber like an old friend.