Memory's Wake Omnibus: The Complete Illustrated YA Fantasy Series (36 page)

Memory had no other response than to stick her tongue out, so she went and dragged Will in from the balcony.

Clara eyed him again. “Would you like me to fetch some clothing for Master Will?”

Memory thought back to the last time she’d offered clothes to Will, and they were left untouched. “Okay. Maybe between the two of us we can wrestle him into wearing something clean.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that.” Clara giggled and left the chambers to find something for him.

“And bring us some food!” Memory yelled after her.

Will was giving Memory a look.

“What? I should have said please, right?”

“Maybe I should go.” He looked catastrophically uncomfortable.

“You said you’d stay for a while. Come on. Let me do this for you. Everyone likes a bit of pampering, right?”

“Just worried about your idea of pampering. You painted my nails hot pink once. Got me picked on for months.”

“Just a hot bath and some clean clothes this time, promise,” she said, swiping an X over her heart.

“A hot bath… that would be nice.” Will half-smiled.

Memory put her hands on her hips, appraising him. “And a haircut. Let me cut your hair, please?”

There was a lot of grumbling, but Memory soon had Will on a chair and worked at removing the largest of knots from his hair. She had a plan to make Will more presentable, so he'd fit in at the castle, but with scissors in hand, she realized how much she liked his hair how it was and became scared of doing something that changed it. She didn’t take much off, just trimmed the roughest parts out to make it a bit more manageable.

Clara returned with clothes for Will and sent him into the bathroom where the tub had filled and warmed. She put down a tray of neat sandwiches in a range of cut shapes and rolls, and Memory grabbed three.

Stuffing them in her mouth, Memory took the chance to kick off her muddy shoes, leaving them in the middle of the floor while she went to the closet for a clean dress.

Clara picked them up, pouting. “I’m happy to assist you in whatever way I can, but that’s no excuse to be a slovenly. Watch out, or I’ll have to call in extra help again.”

Memory smiled at the motherly tone. “And I sure don’t want that.”

Clara inspected the muddy shoes. “You two look like you’ve been on quite an adventure.”

“You know me, anything to get out of the castle.”

“Funny when so many people would do anything to get into this castle.”

Memory pawed through her current selection of dresses. Only a dozen or so filled the wardrobe, but these were exchanged and refreshed every few days so she was never seen in the same dress twice. Each one looked like it would take a month to create, with delicate beading and embroidery, and so many layers of fine fabric folded to create bows and roses. “That’s just the thing, Clara. Look at this stuff. This isn’t me. Or maybe it is, but the point is I don’t know yet. I’m a diary full of blank pages. I went from nothing, to forests and fear for my life, to crazy opulence. I feel like I’ve missed a few steps in between. I want to know more about the normal people of Avall, what their lives are like.”

“It’s a fine sentiment. But after all you’ve been through you may find us quite dull.”

“If everyone else is anything like you, I doubt it. Is there any chance… Could we go out somewhere? Into the city, just for a night?”

Clara pouted a cheeky smile. “You know the whole of Avall has been celebrating. It’s a shame you’re stuck in here on your own while the celebration is so much for you. You have me scheming now. I think we could do it. Oh, partying with the princess! My sisters will be so jealous when they hear!”

It will be good for Will too, to get out with some normal people,
Memory thought. “Can we go tonight? Will isn’t around much, and I want him to come with.”

“We’d better get you changed then. One of the coachmen is a friend, but his shift ends soon.”

In just moments, Memory leaned against the thick carved post of her four-poster bed as Clara tugged at the lacings of her corset. “Oof, really? Aren’t I skinny enough?”

“Might as well flaunt it,” Clara said.

“Skinny is over-rated. I want curves like Lory. Do you think I’ll get boobs if I eat enough, or have I permanently stunted my growth?”

Memory reached for the silk bolero to match the gown Clara had chosen for her. The smoky purple skirts fell in a neat bell shape with a small bustle, and the shrug jacket buttoned over a simple square topped corset. Classy but unassuming, Memory liked it.

After she was dressed, Clara set to work on Memory’s hair while Memory threw on some make up. Memory flinched and twitched as Clara poked through her hair with fingers, combs and pins. She was growing fond of Clara but still not keen on having other people dress her, touch her. But her hair was one of her most recognizable features, and there was no way she could do something with it herself to disguise the modern cut. She’d been trying to let it grow out, but a month hadn’t gotten it much longer.

Clara managed to create a style that completely hid her ragged haircut. With a few strategically placed braids and curls, it looked like her hair was a lot longer than it really was.

Just as they finished with Memory’s hair, the bathroom door opened slightly. They turned around, but Will didn’t immediately emerge.

“What’s up? Come on, I’ve got a surprise for you!”

The door opened fully and Will stepped out. Memory got her own surprise. She fumbled behind her for a chair but found nothing, so put extra energy into her legs to make them keep holding her up.
Oh dear god, he’s gorgeous.

Will had been a bit cleaner lately than the day she first saw him, but she’d never seen him like this. His hair, Memory saw with relief, looked great. Still wet, he must have finger combed it back from his face, and it fell in neat waves to around chin length. There was nothing animal about him anymore, the furs and skins replaced with a neat pair of trousers, a black shirt and vest and a deep blue knee length overcoat that his shoulders were just a bit too wide for.

He held a tie of some kind in his hand. “I don’t know what to do with this.”

“Oh my, I could volunteer a few ideas,” Clara muttered, fanning herself with a hand. Memory elbowed her.

“You look great, really.” Memory beamed. Her comment caused an obvious blush on Will’s high cheekbones. Or maybe it had been Clara’s comment. “We’re all ready then. We better get going!”

“Going where?” Will asked.

“That’s the surprise.”

Clara left them briefly to get changed from her maid’s uniform and arrange for their exit from the castle. Memory spent the time convincing Will that he looked good enough to go out in public.

As the three of them climbed into the carriage, Clara gave the coachman a sly grin. He tipped his cap in return, and the horses broke into a trot.

The cool night air blew softly in through the windows as the carriage clattered along the road, and a sense of freedom exhilarated Memory. Caermaellan castle lay just on the outskirts of the city and before long they were being driven through narrow cobbled streets, full of revelers and the subtle smell of wood-smoke. It had been explained to Clara that Memory suffered a form of amnesia and was relearning everything about Avall, and Clara took pride in offering as much information as she could. She pointed out various important buildings they passed, including the finishing school the twins would soon be attending, and sprinkled her information with juicy bits of gossip.

Memory asked if they could stop, to get out of the carriage and continue on foot. The coachman pulled up near a watering fountain for the horses and agreed to wait for them there. Memory hopped down from the carriage, wanting to run off in every direction at once. The city was so enticing, full of misty secrets and winding pathways to explore.

The lively sounds of a busking fiddler filled the air. Men in top hats and waist coats and women in dresses much like hers surrounded them. Clara had chosen her outfit well. The utter volume of people passing by made Memory feel completely anonymous. She found comfort in that. The pebbled pavement under her feet felt real compared to the silky marble floors of the palace. She kept checking on Will to see how he was managing the crowds, and he seemed more intent on keeping an eye on her than worrying about himself. She smiled.
He’s doing fine.

To cater the city-wide street party, food vendors had set up on nearly every corner. Some roasted chestnuts and whole potatoes in small ovens. Others offered boiled sweets and candy apples. The sweet smell intoxicated Memory, but she could see that not everyone was benefiting from the business taking place on the streets. Next to nearly every stall that sold food there was a child or teenager begging. And where there weren’t stalls there were yet more people hunched together, either sleeping or pleading for alms.

“Who are these people? Are they homeless?” Memory asked Clara.

Clara grimaced unpleasantly. “I guess you could say that. They’ve nowhere else to be. They’re beggars.”

“Why are there beggars? I thought Avall was supposed to be all prosperous and rich.”

“Oh, it is,” Clara said. “But I’ve heard some of the older folks say that things are changing. That there are less fae in the world these days, and it is the fae that turn Avall from barren to abundant. There are stories of some land becoming infertile and dead like in the olden times.”

“Like Kenth?” Memory shocked herself in having information to offer the conversation.

Clara nodded. “And when a township cannot grow food any more, folk must look for work elsewhere and often go missing, and the children who are left behind find their way here, looking for help.”

“Are they not finding it? Why isn’t anyone helping them?”

“I’m not sure anyone knows quite what to do with them. This has never been a problem before. Some say it was Thayl the fae disagreed with, but others say it started earlier. Anything I know is just gossip and rumors of course, I mean there has even been wild talk of beggars being found drained of every drop of their blood. Vampires, some say it is, but I don’t prescribe to such superstition.”

Superstition?
In a world full of dragons and fairies?

“Well this is a terribly depressing topic of conversation for your night out on the town. Shall we find something more entertaining to do?”

“How about we go there? It looks good.” Memory indicated a busy looking tavern across the road from them called “Beyond the Veil.”

“Oh fun! They welcome the fae there, and boy do the fae know how to have a good time!” Clara grinned.

Will had been following along a step or two behind the girls as they chatted, but moved up close beside Memory now. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

Memory hesitated. “Yeah, isn’t that dangerous?”

“Dangerous? Pish. It’s all fine as long as one adheres to the usual precautions when dealing with fae.”

“What, like don’t piss them off?”

“Indeed. Also remember that although they may sometimes appear human, always be on guard,” Clara warned. “Never accept food or drinks lest they’ve been spiked with fae-food. Always purchase at the bar. And certainly don’t agree to do anything for anyone. If in doubt about whether someone is really a human, offer to share some bread or some salted food. They won’t touch the stuff. That’s a sure way of telling whether or not they’re fae. Just follow my lead, you’ll be fine.”

Memory looked up at Will for confirmation. He frowned, but shrugged and nodded.

Inside, the tavern was alive with energy. The décor was lush, with red velvet furnishings and dark, oaken walls. Memory could see fae mingling with humans throughout the room. A lithe woman with green skin and leaves sprouting throughout her white hair lounged in an oversized armchair and a circle of entranced men surrounded her. Smaller sprites, bright as stars, socialized in the rafters and a couple sat on a chandelier, making the crystals shoot bright spots of light around the room. From what Memory could see, none of them had fully black eyes. That made her a little more comfortable.

As she moved through the room, the fae watched Memory suspiciously. She almost walked straight into the bare chest of a tall fae man with elk horns, and he hissed and pushed through the crowd to get clear of her.

“The fae keep such a distance from you,” Clara observed.

Memory shrugged. “Yeah, they don’t like me very much. Vessel too full, gonna spill and spoil everything or some fairy nonsense. Guess we didn’t need to worry about avoiding them after all.”

Most of the fae and human patrons were engrossed in some sort of play being acted out in the center of the room. A large table formed a makeshift stage, but nothing else about the performance seemed makeshift. It all looked far too fancy for being performed on a table in a pub.

Clara must have noticed Memory’s disbelief. “The fae use their glamour to change the player’s appearance and dress the stage. Looks wonderful, doesn’t it? I love these. We can watch it, if you wish?”

Without responding, Memory sat down at a table, with Clara and Will following suit.

Clara pouted and stood back up. “Oh, I’ve seen this one. And it’s nearly over. You watch. I’ll get some drinks.”

Nearly over? To Memory, the play seemed in full swing. Arthur Maellan was locked in armed combat with another man. Or at least, some actor glamored to look exactly like Arthur from the illustrations Memory had seen.

“Ooh, he’s using Caliburn.” Memory told Will, recognizing it also from her book. “You know he and his fairy friend Myrddin drew up all of the iron ore in Avall to make it with?”

Will looked thoughtful, his eyes on the play. “In the stories I know, Arthur drew a sword from a stone, but it was way more literal.”

The swordplay intensified, and the men lunged upon each other, swords bloodied, piercing through each other’s torso. Memory gasped. It looked too real.

The men fell apart, both lying still when they hit the ground. Another man ran onto the stage, distraught. He looked human, but his eyes were solid black orbs. He tried to revive Arthur, and cried beside him when he could not. With a look of resolve, he stood, took Caliburn from the ground, and vanished into thin air.

The dead men on the ground lay still, as dirt and grass grew up over them. A creature of powerful beauty walked in, calling for Myrddin. Tall and built like an Amazon goddess, this fae woman wasn’t waif-thin like sprites Memory had seen. She had the all-black eyes of the unseelie fae and matching black hair that was not so much hair as swirls of pure darkness that caressed her figure, flowing down to her heels. She wore regal gowns, but where her skin showed it rippled like tree bark and shone silver with the scales of a serpent.

She continued to walk, calling Myrddin’s name, as the graves beside her feet turned white, covered in snow, then sprouted fresh blossoms which withered into dust and blew from the stage. She fell onto her knees, called out for Myrddin one last time, and then collapsed into tears.

The audience stood in applause. The fae glamour faded, revealing a cast of normal human actors who looked nothing like the roles they played. Even the female fae was played by a man. They stood and took their bows.

Clara returned with glass goblets that held some kind of pink-blushed cocktail in them, and Memory thanked her. She had got one for Will too, who accepted it but sniffed it suspiciously.

“Did you enjoy the play?”

Memory grunted. “Damn spoilers. I hadn’t gotten that far in my book yet. I didn’t know how Arthur had died.”

Clara waved off the comment with her hand. “This is just one version of events, a dramatization. King Arthur and his nephew Mordred were indeed found dead together, and Myrddin, who had been King Arthur’s closest companion, was not seen ever again after that time. Playwrights have come up with the rest on their own.”

“Who was the fairy woman, at the end?”

“Lady Nyneve. She was Myrddin’s lover. Some say she still looks for him and still mourns him. It’s a sad tale, but they love to show it in taverns. I think it makes people drink more,” Clara said, taking a swig as proof.

Memory brought her own goblet up to drink from, glancing around as though she could still get in trouble for drinking alcohol. She was the youngest person in the tavern. Even Will and Clara were older than her. She guessed Clara might be twenty. She had done the math and worked out that Will should be eight years older than her, but he looked much younger than that, closer to her age. Must be a lifestyle thing.

“You’re not drinking. Don’t you like it?” Clara asked Will, pouting slightly.

“It’s very sweet. And pink,” Will said. He still acted so much like a boy, too.

“Not man enough to drink a girly drink, huh?” Memory challenged, hammering her own drink on the table with a slosh.

“I’m sorry,” Clara said. “I’m not used to buying drinks for men. Normally it’s the other way around. I have to head back to the bar anyway as I appear to have finished mine. I’ll get you something else.” Clara stood back up. “Do you have a request?”

Will shook his head. Memory doubted he went out drinking much.

Memory offered Clara some of the money she’d brought, but Clara refused.

“No, this is my treat! In return for getting to party with the
you-know-who
.”

With a very conspicuous wink Clara headed to the bar. Memory watched as she went. She seemed so natural, talking to people on the way and giving the occasional flirty smile to men. After a few moments, she returned with drinks on a copper tray. Two more pink cocktails and a monstrous jug-sized mug filled with something brown and frothy. She heaved the mug onto the table and pushed it towards Will.

“Here is something you might like better,” she said.

“Clara, are you trying to get Will drunk?” Memory said.

“Me? Why never,” Clara said in her breathy voice that made everything sound sexy.

The three of them continued to drink and enjoyed some of the music that was being played. It was a mixture of human and fae musicians, with two human fiddlers and a flautist and the fairies singing in voices that reminded Memory of birdsong. Clara dragged Memory up to dance, showing her a set of moves where they clapped hands and spun each other around. Memory got the sequence wrong half the time, turning the wrong direction and laughing all the while. Some men approached the girls on the dance floor to request a dance, but the girls both refused through giggles, having far too much fun together.

Memory and Clara returned to the table rosy cheeked and all smiles. They each took Will by a hand, trying to drag him up to dance. They couldn't budge him, but a smile broke on his face at their efforts. The girls gave up and returned to their seats. Memory was happy Will seemed to be fitting in. He wasn’t doing much more than sitting and watching, but that was a big step up from hiding in nearby bushes and watching.