Memory by K. J. Parker Read Free Book Online

asked.
    â€˜That’s right,’ the salesman replied. ‘Actually, just for once I’m not really going there on business. That is, if I can possibly get a few orders along the way, so much the better, though to be honest there’s a fat chance of that out here in the sticks. But mostly I’m going there for – well, personal reasons, if you follow me.’
    â€˜Of course. None of my business, in other words.’
    The salesman grinned. ‘Precisely,’ he said. ‘So, what line of work are you in? Haven’t been to Scieza before, but isn’t it all metalworking down that way?’
    â€˜That’s right,’ Poldarn said. ‘Biggest foundry in the district, which is where I work.’
    â€˜Got you,’ the salesman said. ‘The bell-foundry at Dui Chirra, right? Well, maybe that’s how I know you, then. Before I got into this gold-tooth lark, I was a pattern-maker. Well, I say that; mostly I just sanded and painted. Very boring, so I packed it in. So, what do you make at this foundry? Just general casting, or do you specialise?’
    Poldarn smiled. ‘We make bells,’ he said.
    â€˜Bells.’ The salesman looked slightly bewildered, as if he’d always assumed they grew on tall brass trees. ‘Well, that’s probably a good line to be in – must be a fair old demand, and I’ve never heard of anywhere else that makes them.’ He shrugged, dismissing the topic like a wet dog shaking itself. ‘My name’s Gain Aciava, by the way.’
    Poldarn smiled. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ he said. ‘I’d tell you my name if I knew what it was – well, that’s another long story – but recently I’ve been answering to Poldarn. Like the god in the cart,’ he added before Aciava could say anything, ‘I know; but I sort of picked it up before I knew any better.’
    Aciava looked at him for a moment. ‘Fair enough,’ he said. ‘Anyhow, pleased to meet you too. Welcome to Tulice.’
    â€˜Thank you,’ Poldarn replied solemnly. ‘Just out of interest,’ he went on, lowering his voice a little, ‘what’re they in aid of?’
    â€˜What, the soldiers?’ Aciava looked grave. ‘You haven’t been in these parts long, then, or else you’ve been out of the flow. Bandits.’
    â€˜Oh,’ Poldarn said.
    Aciava grinned ruefully. ‘They call them that,’ he said, ‘because it doesn’t sound so bad. You know, bandits, sort of thing that can happen anywhere. Actually, they’re nothing of the sort. Civil war’s more like it, only it’s not as simple as that. All you need to know really is, don’t bother them and they probably won’t bother you. Unless you’re a bandit, of course.’
    A slight sideways glance came with that last remark. Poldarn ignored it. As far as he could tell, Master Aciava just enjoyed making himself seem mysterious to strangers met on the road. No harm in that, coming from a gold-tooth salesman. ‘Thanks,’ he said, and changed the subject to the merits of the inns along the road between Falcata and the coast, on which topic Aciava proved to be erudite, passionate and fairly amusing. He was in the middle of a tirade against the Light In Darkness at Galbetta Cross when Poldarn looked up and realised that he knew where he was. ‘Scieza,’ he said.
    â€˜Ah,’ said Aciava, ‘here we are, then. Just as well, I’ve never been here before, and they don’t always call out the names of the stops.’
    The wagon rolled to a halt outside the Virtue Triumphant (which had received a vote of qualified approval in Aciava’s catalogue, its effect slightly tarnished by the assessor’s admission that he’d never been there). Poldarn jumped down while Aciava started unloading his baggage, of which there seemed to be an unexpectedly large amount.
    â€˜Right,’