The thieves killed, written by Jake Kerr. Chapter sixty Where did the memories go? Dala stood up. Prosper looked up from his stones.
His fingers still held the single pebble lightly between them. His lips had stopped moving. His eyes were vacant. Dala wasn't even sure he knew he was looking at something, but somewhere deep inside him he knew where Maila was, and that was all she needed from him.
She crossed to the peg by the door, and took the crimson cloak down in one motion, swinging it over her shoulders. The weight of it settled across her back, and she reached for the knife at her belt. Not to draw it, not yet, but to close her hand around the grip. The leather worn smooth and familiar.
The crossguard, a hard edge against her palm. The deep sadness that had consumed her was gone. Replaced with action, with the momentum of a decision that meant following a heart and not a mind. It was enough.
Maila was in the mountains. Of that, Dala was now sure. The pebble was clear enough. But why was she there, and was she okay?
Was she wondering some corridor Dala had never seen, improvising the way she always improvised, casting the instincts that had never betrayed her? Or was she bruised and bloodied and imprisoned? She walked over and grabbed Prosper by the shoulder, lifting him firmly and gently to his feet. He didn't resist.
Dala spoke to him. Prosper, we are going to find Maila. You will need to help me find her. The stones shine, but are lonely.
Prosper had fallen into babbling again. Never mind Dala thought I don't need his mind. She helped him with his boots and a proper cloak. She didn't take food.
She didn't grab a water skin. She had her knives. She had a guide. It was all she needed.
They exited, and Dala led Prosper forward. She didn't know this city. She had no map and no guide and no way to ask questions that she didn't even know. What she knew was that magnificent and terrifying mountains stood in the distance, and that was the only map she needed.
It was a long walk, and Prosper was constantly pausing and looking around, as if he suddenly found something familiar and had to see if a memory still existed somewhere in his brain. What did he say? He still had the shape of his memories. Maybe that's what he was doing, laying out the shape of nothingness in his mind.
Guiding Prosper forward was slow going, with Dala nudging and pulling him or supporting him when he suddenly, in the middle of an alley or even crossing a road, decided to sit down and draw lines in the dirt. It was distracting, but not enough that she didn't get a better sense of the city. The further they walked, the more Dala realized that the city was, knew. The buildings were nearly all single-story and wood, with planks placed with precision, and none of them sagging with age.
The stone buildings were all in the distance, closer to the tower that stood over the city, like an intimidating guard. Even her memories of the tower reminded her that the tower itself appeared new, with clean lines between the stones and a lack of the natural decay that gave older towers their character. This was a city that was smaller than her nests, newer than her nests, and, like her nests, organized in a way that could be seen not just in the people but the buildings. There was no upper quarter that she could see.
There was no flats. It was just a stone tower, and then wood buildings that all looked the same and spread out like ripples from the tower tossed beside the mountain. The buildings became more sparse as they worked their way north and west. Dala wanted to approach the mountain from as far from the tower as possible, while still being close enough that Prosper could find the shape of Maela's location.
The line of houses at the edge of the town was oddly straight. There was a dirt street which seemed to border the city, and on it were houses lined in an organized row, and behind them grass and rocks that led to the short and steep foothills near the mountain. It was there that they were intercepted by a guard who was otherwise lazily walking down the street. You there, what's your business?
She hurried over and looked at Dala and Prosper. You don't live here? Dala wasn't Maela, and her mind went blank. She had to come up with a lie, and quick, but what lie could explain them walking to the mountain through a neighborhood they didn't know?
The guard walked closer, looking more suspicious. The order is not to be disrupted. Dala couldn't understand the words, but the guard looked shocked. She walked over to Prosper and stared into his eyes.
What was that? And to Dala's horror, Prosper felt her his knees and started tracing lines in the dirt around the guard's boots. She rushed over and grabbed his arm to pull him up. My apologies, his mind is gone.
I was hoping that taking him closer to the mountain would help recover his memories. Prosper resisted Dala's tugs, and the guard grabbed her arm. She knelt down and put a hand on Prosper's shoulder. She looked into his eyes.
My brother. You have delved too deep and found the darkness. May you rediscover the light. She stood up.
It is not common, but for some minds even basic magic can. Her voice tailed off as she looked at Prosper again. Thank you. It was all Dala could think to say.
I appreciate your efforts. It is kind of you. Is he your brother? Yes.
Dala simply said what she felt the guard wanted to hear. It is a tragedy, but I fear your efforts will prove hopeless. Magic consumes and nothing can give back what it takes. The guard helped Prosper to his feet and he didn't resist this time.
Memories don't die, my brother. They just live elsewhere. When your time comes, you will be reunited with them again. And with a nod, the guard continued her patrol, but Dala didn't move.
The guard's comment, clearly some kind of wizard saying, made her think of Prosper's magic differently, and in a way she hadn't considered before. If the memories weren't consumed, where did they go?