12

Odenite camp, outside Kirlan

ASTRID WAS GENERALLY IMPRESSED with the progress Eward’s Prelates had made. She and Knot had just finished a double round of training with them: one round skirmishing against each other, the next practicing maneuvers against potential threats—Outsiders. The former had gone well; against a typical armed force, Astrid thought the Prelates would be able to hold their own. The latter was a different story.

Without much knowledge of Outsiders, it was difficult to formulate a specific strategy, so they focused on teamwork and adaptation, mutable plans and formations, and changing combat styles mid-battle.

“I thought that went well,” Knot said. “Better than the first session we did a few days ago, at least.”

“Oh yes, nomad, that was great. Now the Prelates will look vaguely organized when an Outsider rips them to shreds.”

“Give them some credit.” Knot wiped sweat from his brow. “They did well against the first one.” They were walking away together from the fallow section of the field Eward had claimed for the Prelates. The day was cloudy—such days were rare this far south, to Astrid’s chagrin—and behind the clouds, the sun must be nearing the horizon. She could feel the night approaching.

“Only because we held the front line,” Astrid said. She had glimpsed panic in the Prelates’ eyes when they faced the Outsider. They were good men, but being a good man didn’t mean shit when you faced a daemon on the battlefield.

Knot sighed. “It’s good you’re bein’ a realist about it. I’m being positive to encourage them, but…”

Despite Knot’s validation, Astrid suddenly felt guilty for casting aspersions on the Prelates. “We handled one Outsider already,” Astrid said. “We can do it again, and the Prelates will continue to learn.”

Knot didn’t say anything to that, and they walked in silence for a few moments.

Astrid cast thoughts of Outsiders and the Prelates aside. It was time for a long-overdue conversation.

“There’s a reason I don’t remember much past a hundred years ago,” Astrid said.

“Always figured there was.”

Astrid glared at Knot. “Doesn’t mean you have to be rude about it,” Astrid muttered. She took a deep breath. What she was about to tell Knot, she had never told anyone else before. Not willingly.

“The Denomination found me forty-seven years ago,” Astrid said. “I… I thought they would kill me, at first.”

“How did they capture you? A group of Sons? Goddessguards?”

“Priestesses,” Astrid said. “That’s all they were, really. But they had nightsbane. And they were psimancers.”

“Was psimancy even around then?”

“People had just begun to manifest the abilities, but it was extremely rare, and all very confusing from what I remember. It didn’t take long for the Nazaniin to get a hold on most of them, of course, although the Denomination kept a few to themselves.”

“And they captured you?”

“Imprisoned me. Tortured me. But then, they… they began to show me kindness.” Astrid shook her head. “Kindness is not the right word. They became less hostile, that’s all it was. At the time I was practically feral, Knot. Because of what I’d done—”

“What had you done?”

“I’m getting to it, if you’d shut your mouth for more than a minute.”

Knot, graciously, shut his mouth.

Astrid continued. “I can still remember those first days, when the torture stopped. I remember how confused I was, I remember almost being angry that it had stopped. It was what I deserved. There was a small part of me that wanted it, another part that expected it, and a much larger part that simply could not understand why they would stop. For a while, I thought that leaving me to sit alone with my guilt was just their new form of torture. And I knew, almost immediately, that it would break me. I could not last long. So I begged for it to stop. Or, I guess, I begged them to start again. To torture me, to kill me, to do anything to get me away from myself.

“Eventually, they made me an offer. They said they could take away my memories. In return, they wanted me to… to take assignments from them.”

“Assignments?”

“They wanted me to kill. Intimidate. Destroy evidence. Silence witnesses. Sometimes even within the Denomination itself. You’d be surprised at the places a little girl can get into and out of unnoticed. It was easy for me.

“In return, they took my memories.”

“An acumen did that?” Knot asked.

Astrid nodded. “She obliterated specific parts of my memories, the ones I hated the most. The things I never wanted to relive again.”

“And it worked?”

“For a while.” Astrid stopped. “No, that’s not true. It didn’t work at all. From the beginning, something was wrong. I didn’t remember what had happened, she’d done that part right, but… but the feelings were still there. The guilt, the shame, the fear, the hatred. All of it was still there, only it was worse, now, because I had no memories to associate with them. Nothing to attach those feelings to, so they were just… they were just there, constantly, all the time.

“That’s when the priestesses began to talk to me about redemption. They told me how taking my memories was only a temporary fix, that if I wanted any real peace, I needed to work toward absolution.”

“And they told you that was something they would help you get? You, a vampire?”

Astrid shrugged. “I wanted to believe it. I couldn’t die, not of my own hand, but I couldn’t live anymore, either. So I did what they asked me to do, because they promised me an end to it all.”

“And doing what they asked, taking these assignments, eventually led you to me.”

“Yes,” Astrid said quietly. She still had no idea how Knot had done what he did a few days ago, when she first told him. The act of simply attempting to understand meant more to Astrid than anything anyone had ever done for her. She did not need all her memories to be sure of that.

But things were not the same between them. They might never be. She hated it but at the same time, she was grateful. At least now, from here on out, she could live the truth.

“That’s why you don’t remember anything,” Knot said. “And now your memories are gone? You’ll never get them back?”

Astrid shivered. “The Black Matron placed them in a voidstone.” She pulled the stone out of her pocket, holding it up for Knot to see. The stone was a shining black, polished and smooth, with a blood-red rune carved into the surface.

Knot reached out, almost touching the thing, and for a moment Astrid wanted him to, wanted him to take it from her and never give it back. Instead, he stopped just before he made contact with the stone.

She put the voidstone back into her pocket. “On occasion… twice, actually… the Black Matron has used my memories against me, as another form of torture. At one time I just wanted to be done with the Denomination. They talked about redemption for decades, but I never saw anything from it, and then, after one assignment, I just… I just stopped going back. Eventually I found my way to Turandel—that’s where Cabral made me a slave, for a time. After I escaped Cabral, the Denomination somehow caught up with me, torturing me with my own memories. I didn’t leave their service again, not for another twenty years or so. Not until…”

“Not until you met me.”

Astrid nodded. “Not until I met you.”

“You said they tortured you with your own memories twice. Once after Turandel, and the second time…”

“It was three days ago.”

Silence, then. A silence that could fill an ocean, that could expand beyond the Sfaera and the Void and Oblivion itself, a silence of infinite parts that was both deafening and toneless all at once.

“Are you all right?”

Astrid wanted to laugh at that question, but she wanted to cry as well, so instead she said nothing at all. Not for a while. She was grateful for Knot’s patience, as they stood out in the night air together.

“No,” she said, after some time. “I don’t think I am. Is that all right?”

“Yes,” Knot said, then coughed, clearing his throat, and Astrid wasn’t sure but she thought she heard his voice break, just for a moment, in the growing dark. “Yes,” he said again. “That’s fine.”

They continued walking, once again in silence, but the silence this time was not of infinite parts. It could not fill an ocean, or the Void, or anything of the sort. Instead, it was just enough to fill the space between them, comfortably, warmly, and easily.

“Astrid?” Knot asked, when they got to their tent.

“Yes?”

“I am a psimancer. My powers are all but gone, but I can still summon, on occasion, very small tendra. Enough to use a voidstone.”

“What else is new, nomad?”

“Would you let me see your memories? The ones stored on that stone?”

Astrid recoiled. “Why in Oblivion would you want to do that?”

“Things are different between us, now. I wonder if it would help me understand you better.”

“Understand me better? I’m not the girl I’ve been in the past, Knot. I’m not who I once was.”

“We’re always who we are,” Knot said.

“These memories aren’t pleasant, nomad. You don’t want to see them, trust me.” She leapt onto her cot. This conversation was clearly ridiculous. Knot didn’t know what he was asking.

“I do want to see them,” Knot said quietly. “But if you don’t want me to, I understand. Sometimes it helps to share my experiences with others. Even when they’re horrific, and I want them to go away, to never think of them again. Shedding light on a thing helps kill the shame. The guilt.”

Astrid snorted. She wanted to argue the point, but what Knot said made a certain kind of sense to her. Perhaps sharing some of what had happened to her might help.

Finally, she sighed. “All right. If you really want to, that’s fine. But don’t expect me to go through them with you. I’m back to not remembering anything, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“You said that was worse.”

Astrid frowned. “It is, but… it’s complicated.”

“All right then.”

“All right.”

“I’d best get some rest.”

“Best you should.”

Astrid closed her eyes, hearing Knot slip into his cot. Soon, his breathing evened out, and she was alone with her thoughts.