Memory by K. J. Parker Page B

wonder you’re suspicious when I tell you I used to be a monk too. And you don’t believe she was one of them, because you were in love with her at the time. Sort of.’
    â€˜No,’ Poldarn said.
    Aciava shook his head. ‘Trust me,’ he said, ‘you were. You were in love with her back in fifth grade – sorry, I’m not allowed to tell you that, am I? But she wouldn’t have anything to do with you, so it’s probably all right.’ He smiled. ‘Actually, it’s bitterly unfair, because when you did finally get her in the sack, you weren’t to know that you were finally achieving a lifetime ambition.’ He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap. As he did so, a fold of his coat fell away, revealing the hilt of a short sword tucked into his sash. Poldarn wondered if it was deliberate. ‘Now do you want me to piss off and leave you in peace? If you do, I will.’
    Poldarn closed his eyes. ‘No,’ he said.
    Then the door opened, and the sutler came in with a big jug of beer. ‘Here you go,’ he said. ‘You haven’t finished the first one.’
    â€˜Leave it,’ Aciava said, ‘we’ve got a use for it.’
    The sutler went away again. ‘Sorry,’ Aciava said, ‘I’ve lost my thread. Did you just agree that you do want me to tell you?’
    Poldarn sighed. ‘I’m not sure,’ he said.
    â€˜Progress,’ Aciava said brightly. ‘A few moments ago, you were absolutely dead set against it.’
    â€˜That was before—’
    â€˜Would you rather I hadn’t told you? About Xipho – sorry, Copis?’
    â€˜That’s academic, isn’t it? You’ve told me now.’ He slumped forward onto his elbows. ‘I guess you’d better tell me the rest.’
    But Aciava shook his head. ‘Not so fast,’ he said. ‘I’ve still got your best interests at heart, remember. I’ll tell you some things, but only what’s good for you. All right?’
    â€˜I’m not in the mood for games.’
    â€˜Ah.’ Aciava grinned. ‘I’ve heard you say that before. You always were an impatient sort – you know, always reading ahead, wanting to learn lesson five before you’d properly got the hang of lesson three. I can still just get up and leave, and I will if you don’t behave. Understood?’
    â€˜Fuck you,’ Poldarn said. But he stayed where he was. ‘Go on, then.’
    â€˜Thank you so much.’ Aciava settled himself in his chair and picked up a slice of smoked lamb in his fingers. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘one step at a time. Do you want me to tell you your name – not Ciartan, the name you had in the order? Or not; it’s up to you.’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜Splendid. You were called Poldarn.’ Aciava smiled. ‘No, I’m not kidding you, it was the name Father Tutor chose for you, since he refused to call you Ciartan, he said there was no such name; and it’s quite usual for novices to take a name-in-religion. Signifies a complete severance of ties with the outside world, or some such shit. Anyhow, that’s what we all knew you as.’ He breathed in deeply, like a man of sensibility smelling a rare flower. ‘My guess is, Xipho was playing a game with you. Probably, being told to look after you put the idea of the god-in-the-cart stunt into her mind. Also, it’d be easier for her, so there wouldn’t be any risk that she’d suddenly call you Poldarn by mistake, out of habit, and then you’d get suspicious. Either that, or it was just her idea of a joke. You see, it was always a source of extreme merriment and wit in our gang, Father Tutor giving you such a wonderfully apt name.’ He paused. ‘You do know why it’s apt, don’t you?’
    â€˜Enlighten me.’
    Aciava sighed. ‘Well, Poldarn’s the god of fire and the