The Shattered Circle

7. The Curse of Memory

I heard Melody's soft voice drifting out of her rooms as I strode back through the halls of the Winter Palace, my mind in relentless motion after everything that had transpired in the course of Luka's little favor. The spymaster still had not arrived to give me his opinion of the settlement, but it was an inevitable eventuality. I stopped in my tracks to listen. Even just the sound of Melody's voice could calm me down when I was like this, frustrated with the world I was surrounded by. Part of it was her nature, the inherent magic of her voice, but more of it was the comfort I associated with her presence.

"You seem so perplexed, Shira." Melody's laugh rang in the air like the pealing of silver bells. There was something otherworldly about even the smallest hints of her voice. "Let me offer you a piece of advice: you will find most around the Undying Court have many faces. Lady Aleyr is no exception. With one hand, she takes life, with the other, she gives kindness. Sometimes they are one and the same."

There was an unpleasant tightening in my stomach as I thought of the boy with sunflower eyes. I banished the thought almost as quickly has it had come. Once upon a time, they haunted me for months. Now? The memories of my challengers faded within days, leaving only the bitter anger at their mistreatment behind.

"Shall I spin you a story of her?" Now Melody's tone was practically conspiratorial. She loved stories, both the hearing and the telling. "Ask and ye shall receive."

A brief pause hung in the air, no doubt Shira asking her question by the flicking of her fingers. It didn't surprise me that Melody could understand her, not when her gift and hobby was languages. I envied her talent often.

The delicate woman cleared her throat for dramatic effect. "Surely you know that once upon a time, the King in Black was mortal. Rusans say that he was Iskandar the Great's personal wizard, but if you want my opinion, that's absolute rubbish. Their kings can't abide the idea that their greatest foe came from humble origins, the son of a merchant who could only rub enough silver together to buy his son the lessons needed for literacy."

I leaned against the wall outside of Melody's room and closed my eyes, letting the spell of her voice smooth over all my frustrations.

"It is a long story, Shira. I will spare you many of the details, fascinating though they are, for the sake of time." I knew that when Melody said such things, what she really meant was that she would omit details that might be dangerous for Shira to know. "But picture this boy, taking to the written word as a wyrm hatchling to flight. His hunger for knowledge was insatiable. People say that he met the Devil in the woods one day, walking the merchant's road, and that was when he learned his first spell. However it began, that too he took to. He found he had a gift for it, and the second that first flicker of power touched his fingertips, around it crystallized an ambition you cannot imagine."

Truth be told, it was difficult for me to think back so far into the past. Mortal memories are such fallible things. The King in Black recalled everything with perfect clarity, his whole self preserved perfectly by undeath, in some ways the same and in other ways wholly changed.

"The stories they tell in Rusa say that the King found a use for this boy and his gift, sending him with the army against kingdom after kingdom, defeating each ancient enemy in turn with the help of his growing magic. Perhaps they paint so to illustrate hubris: a king feeding his own defeat with the suffering of his enemies, never recognizing the serpent held to his breast, the serpent fed by his own ambition. Whether that is the truth, who can say? The history has been told and retold, written and rewritten, so many times. What I will tell you is my favorite part of the story."

I hesitated, looking at the crack of the open door. Depending on which version Melody was telling, how close to the actual truth it was, interrupting was potentially important. I trusted her, but some versions were harder on my heart than others.