Chapter 20: Knight Of Swords

The Broken Dog sat on a crossroads a little way from a bridge across the river defining the northern edge of old Bellpolis. Zeb looked at the sign showing a black and white dog in pieces as if it had been made of glass. It was no odder than the signs of other taverns he had seen in the past weeks. He pushed the door open and walked in.

"Arthur!" someone shouted. Zeb walked to the bar and ordered a drink. The man behind the bar looked like he had seen a ghost. At that moment, a large hand clapped down on Zeb's shoulder and spun him around.

"Arthur, you dog," the man said. "You're alive?"

"Who is Arthur?" Zeb asked.

"Who is Arthur? Who is Arthur?" the man said. "Are you putting me on? I would recognize you anywhere. Now stop playing games and come over and have a drink with an old friend."

Zeb picked up his drink and followed the big man to a table full of other men. They were dressed better than the farmers that Zeb had been working for. He guessed they were merchant's sons.

"Hey, look who I found!" the man said as if he had indeed gone out and dragged Zeb out of the mountains singlehandedly. In an instant Zeb was surrounded by a crowd of young men who whooped and shouted while they thumped his back. Zeb's drink was a lost cause, but every second person determined to buy him another. Finally, the maelstrom calmed enough for Zeb to take a drink from his glass.

"Where have you been?" the first big man asked, who, as the discoverer of Zeb, was tacitly appointed spokesman.

"Around," Zeb said. "Where was I supposed to be?" Most of the young men laughed, but a few looked concerned.

"Is something wrong?" the big man said. "You don't look like yourself."

"Not surprising, considering I have no idea who I am," Zeb said. Something the sheriff in Westfale said came to his mind. "I took a blow to the head, in the spring, and I have lost all memory from before that."

"No!" they shouted and immediately started demanding that he must remember them.

"Whoa! Give the man some space," shouted the big man. "Look, if you are Art, you will have a scar here on your ribs," he said pointing to his own ribs. "It is from a fight we were in the winter before last."

Zeb pulled up his shirt and looked at his ribcage and sure enough there was a scar there. "I guess you can call me Art." 

"What did people call you before?"

"Mostly 'hey you'," Zeb said.

"I'm Daniel," the big man said. "Whether you remember me or not, I have your back."

"John."

"Fredrick."

"Hal."

The names came thick and fast. Zeb struggled to attach the names to the faces. These weren't bandits in the forest, they could be invaluable to him, and he was glad enough to have a name for people to call him.

The reunion party went on all night with the men taking turns telling stories about Art's escapades. I already have a reputation for troublemaking; that could be useful, if the mage doesn't know or care too much about my background.

The stories ran out at about the same time that the sun came up.

"So, Art," Daniel said, "what can you tell us about the past year."

Zeb didn't think telling them about being a bandit would go over well, even in this crowd. "I found myself a good way north of here. I mostly wandered about doing odd jobs. I spent most of the winter and part of the spring with a shepherd up in the mountains."

"A shepherd," Hal said, "you mean like watching sheep?"

"Yes, and killing wolves," Zeb said.

"Wolves!" they said, so Zeb told them about the wolves while they ate the coarse bread the tavern served for breaking their fast.

"Look, fellows," the bar man said when they had finished breakfast, "I know you just found your friend, but you really need to move on."

"Sure thing, Jack," Daniel said, "we're just going."

Zeb picked up his pack and his staff and followed Daniel and the others out.

"The owner doesn't mind our money, but she really doesn't like to see our faces," Daniel explained to Zeb.

"That might have something to do with you trying to seduce her one too many times," John said, nudging Daniel. They continued jostling and joking with each other like the young men Zeb had met heading to the big city to find their fortune. Zeb guessed that it wasn't much easier to be a merchant's son.

They reached the bridge, and as Zeb's boots sounded on the wooden planks a vast pit of terror opened up inside of him. The others stopped as they noticed that Zeb had frozen at the edge of the bridge.

"What's wrong?" asked Daniel.

"I don't know," Zeb said, "but I can't make my feet cross the bridge."

"Weren't you supposed to meet that noble's girl on the bridge? That was the night you disappeared."

"Yeah, you were all ready to get you some noble loving."

"Maybe you fell off the bridge that night and that's how you ended up in the north."

"Perhaps. I don't remember."

"There is a ford a little way downstream," Daniel said. "We can cross there. We'll meet at the Unkissed Prince tonight."

"Their beer isn't as good as the Broken Dog's."

"And the girls aren't as cute."

"You are going to wade back and forth across the river every night?"

"Okay, okay, the Unkissed Prince at sunset."

The other men walked off across the bridge.

"This way," Daniel said. "It is just as well, I need to talk to you about some stuff without them jawing in at every sentence."

"Lead on," Zeb said, shaken more by his body's rebellion than by the fear. What else have I inherited with this flesh?

"That noble girl you were after got herself married to a Baron leBraun just after you vanished; by all accounts, she is happy too. You'll want to stay away from her. Her husband won't appreciate you showing up at the door."

Zeb agreed silently. The last thing he wanted was more complications.

"You are going to have to see your dad and your sister, Joan. He never figured you for dead. I guess he was right." They arrived at the ford. The water was low enough they were able to cross without getting their feet more than damp.

"The last thing is that you have a running feud with this Count laFreeid's son. That is where you got that scar of yours. You were just plain lucky that it wasn't worse. I will try to point him out to you so you can avoid him. He and his cronies are bad news, and they hate you like poison. I don't know why."

"I don't remember either," Zeb said, not having to work at sounding frustrated. Bad enough the mage had him tangled in chains of magic without needing to deal with old enemies of this flesh.

"You'd better go and see your dad before some clown lets him know you're back." Daniel shook his head. "You two are worse than my old man and me, so you needn't pretend to any great liking. You will want to try to be a little bit contrite. If you keep him happy, he won't be on your back all the time."

Daniel and Zeb planned out the coming reunion as they walked through the city. They came to the market. Zeb saw a young girl with a small board in her hand watching men unload a wagon. She saw Zeb and dropped the board. A moment later, she had launched herself at Zeb. He braced himself, but instead of the embrace he expected, she pounded on him with her fists while swearing with a facility that was making the watching crowd of men grin in appreciation.

"Arthur," Daniel effortlessly lifted the girl off of Zeb, "meet your sister Joan."

"What do you mean, 'meet your sister'?" Joan said. "You know me, don't you, you reprobate.... Don't you?"

"Arthur took a bang to his head, Joan," Daniel said. "He doesn't remember anything at all."

She launched herself again, but this time to hug instead of attack. Zeb knew from the summer he was expected to hug her back, so he wrapped his arms around her while she wept on his shoulder.

"It must be terrible for you, not to remember anything," she said finally. "I imagine that it would be terrifying, never knowing if you know the person you are talking to or not."

"It is unnerving," Zeb said.

"What is going on?" An older man stood in the doorway of the building beside the yard.

"Father...." began Joan and she started crying again.

"Well, it is about time you got home," Arthur's father said, "I've been waiting for you."

"That is not what I expected," Daniel said. "I had better get on or my own father will be saying the same to me." The big man waved casually at Zeb and walked away. Joan took Zeb's hand and pulled him into the building.

"Father," Joan said, "Arthur was injured and lost his memory. That is why he took so long to come home."

"Nonsense," her father said, "it is just more of his foolery." He looked at Zeb. "What was it this time? A bet, another fight, another woman? Do you know how hard it is to hold up my head in this town with a son who has caused as much trouble as you?"

"I have been told that I was not a good son," Zeb said, "I don't know what to say, since I don't know what I have done to distress you."

"You lie," Arthur's father shouted, "this is just another one of your tricks."

"Look at his eyes, Father," Joan said. "He really doesn't remember."

"Bah," her father said, "the wagons need unloading. I don't have time for this." He picked up some papers and started working.

Zeb walked back outside. The men were standing around.

"Well, this thing won't unload itself." Zeb picked up a box off the wagon. Joan retrieved her board and stared at him.

"Now I know you lost your memory," she said. "Put it over there with the rest."

Zeb helped with that wagon and a dozen others through the day. Several times, he caught Joan watching him doubtfully. At sunset, the last wagon rolled out, and Daniel came by to see them. He laughed when he saw Zeb covered with sweat and dust.

"Now that is proof that you lost your mind, Arthur," he said.

"Joan said the same thing," Zeb said.

"Oh, Arthur, do you have to go out?" Joan said. "I have so much to tell you."

Zeb looked at Daniel who just placidly stared back at him.

"I will be back by moonrise," Zeb said.

"That's the Arthur I know," Daniel said laughing. Joan just nodded her head and went inside.

The evening was spent telling and retelling the stories of Arthur's doings. Zeb was sure they had grown since the night before. He didn't drink much. Zeb didn't like how the beer lowered his barriers. The others, except maybe Daniel, never noticed. When Zeb saw the moon above the houses across the street, he stood up.

"Time for me to get back." 

The other young men just stared at him in disbelief. Zeb shrugged and left. He found when he got home that Joan and her father had already gone to bed. Without anyone to tell him where he should sleep he lay down on the floor with his backpack under his head and slept.

Zeb hadn't dreamt much since he left the monastery, but this night his dreams were replays of the death and despair he had left in his wake. He saw the wolves tear Lamb apart, but then they turned and attacked Joan and her father. The soldiers from the forest came, and, still bleeding from their death wounds, began hacking at Arthur's friends. Zeb could hear the mage's laughter through it all.

"You can't escape me, demon. Though you won't surrender, you will do as I ask, or these others you claim will also be destroyed."

Zeb woke in the morning shaking.

Joan came down and looked at him with a frown.

"What time did you get home?" she asked.

"At moonrise, as I said."

"So, why aren't you in bed like a civilized person?"

"I don't know where my bed is."

Joan's eyes filled up with tears again.

"Forgive me, brother," she said, "I had assumed that you had returned to your old habits."

"I used to sleep on the floor?" Zeb asked.

"The floors of the taverns," Joan said. "Come, I will show you your room."

Arthur's room was small but comfortable. The wardrobe was filled with clothes that were very much like what Arthur's friends wore. Zeb left them there, for now, and put on clothes from his backpack. They were better for the work he was doing.

He spent the day working with the men on the wagons. Arthur's father came out and watched for a while, then went back inside without saying a word.

Daniel, again, came by at sunset and Zeb went with him to the tavern. The Unkissed Prince showed a frog with a prince's crown slipping down over one eye. Zeb thought it looked more than a little drunk. He left at moonrise again, to the astonishment of the rest of the group. Conversation had turned to other subjects and Zeb was finding it hard to keep track of who and what they were talking about. This time Daniel left with Zeb.

"Maybe it is time I learned responsibility," he said, "though, my father would die of astonishment if he knew I was learning it from Arthur Candler. It is good to have you back." He slapped Zeb on the shoulder and headed off toward his own home.

This time Joan had waited up for him.

"What is it like?" she asked him. "Not to remember the people you love?"

"It is confusing to have people who know me and treat me like their friend," Zeb said, "especially since I know nothing of them."

"So, there is nothing at all? No indication that you once loved this person?"

"I don't know anything about love. Just loss. It seems to me that love is a dangerous thing."

"Yes, I suppose it is, but it is wonderful too."

"I don't see the wonder."

"No, I guess you don't." Joan sighed deeply. "Did Daniel tell you about Marriette?"

"Marriette is the girl who is married now?"

"Yes, we are friends, strange as that may seem. I don't want to see her get hurt anymore."

"I will stay away from her. Daniel thought so as well. I don't want the...confusion of trying to resolve something I don't recall."

"Thanks, brother." Joan stood up and yawned. "Time for me to go to bed."

"Don't do that," Zeb said.

"What, go to bed?"

"No, call me 'brother'. I don't remember being a brother. I don't know how."

"It isn't something you do. You just are, memory or not." Joan hugged him and left him alone to his thoughts.