Valerid: “Who is Seffon?”
Leah: “The five were hired to kill him. He is in the Contested Lands. Jun.”
Valerid: “They are uncontested. It is Jun province. Next question: who are the five?”
Leah: “Five women warriors, mercenaries, guards…they were hired to kill Seffon.”
Valerid: “Are you one of the five?”
Leah: “Apparently.”
Valerid: “Apparently. Who else would you be?”
Leah: “Leah Louise Armande.”
Valerid: “So you’ve said.”
Leah’s lungs are burning. The air is spinning around inside her mouth, drying the skin, cracking her lips. Blood is trickling down to her chin and she feels like she has to cough up an ounce of cement-like phlegm. Her mouth moves of its own accord, speaking only truth.
Auzzo: “What do you remember of Seffon’s tower?”
Leah: “It was small.”
She hears a snicker but can’t place it.
Auzzo: “Do you remember being inside the castle? What did you see, or hear?”
Leah: “I remember waking up on stone. There was a fight. Metal clanging. Yelling. I saw someone wearing red. I saw a woman with a war-hammer smash a man’s head through his helmet, turn it into paste against the floor. I fainted.”
Meredith: “That was the rescue.” The voice sounds thin and terrified, with a small attempt at controlling it.
Valerid: “Anything before that?”
Leah: “I fell asleep in my own bed, at home.”
Valerid: “Was that in Seffon’s castle?”
Leah: “It was in Joinsburg.”
Someone sighs.
Valerid: “What happened to you in that castle?”
Leah: “I don’t know.”
The captain’s hand presses harder against her neck, and she feels the air swirl around and force into her lungs. The hit of oxygen makes her tremble, and she realises that she is suffocating except for when he gives her some air. The immobility taking over her body makes the feeling distant, but the reality is immediate and terrifying. Still, her mouth moves, and she answers honestly.
Valerid: “Were you awake at any point during your captivity?”
Leah: “I don’t know.”
Auzzo: “Were you fed?”
Leah: “I don’t know.”
Auzzo: “If not, how didn’t you die?”
Leah: “I don’t know.”
Valerid: “Did you die?”
Leah: “I…don’t know.”
The blood drop reaches the tip of her chin and falls, splashing her hands. It feels burning hot.
Valerid: “Why the hesitation?”
Leah: “Maybe…Leah Talesh did die.”
Another gust of air circles through her lungs, taking away carbon dioxide and giving barely enough oxygen to sustain. The heat of the air is like sandpaper.
Valerid: “Is Leah Talesh someone else?”
Leah: “…Yes.”
Valerid: “Then you are not Leah Talesh.”
Leah: “I am Leah Louise Armande.”
Valerid: “Where is Leah Talesh?”
Leah: “I don’t know.”
Valerid: “Is her mind intact?”
Leah: “I don’t know.”
Valerid: “Is her body intact?”
Leah: “Yes. This is her body.”
The second part comes out unprompted, as an obvious statement. It causes all present to hesitate. The Lord’s mouth hangs open, ready to form his next words but struck dumb by this.
Valerid: “This is Leah Talesh’s body?”
Leah: “Yes.”
Valerid: “What are you doing in it, if you are not her?”
Leah pauses for a long moment. “I don’t know.”
The hand at the back of her neck grips it. The spell does not change, and Leah thinks this must be a reaction of frustration or outrage from the captain. She cannot entirely blame him, given the useless answers she is providing through his force.
Valerid: “Can you leave her body?”
Leah: “I don’t know.”
Valerid: “Is her mind alive, wherever it is?”
Leah: “I don’t know.”
The Duke mutters something indistinct, Leah thinks maybe in another language. She stares up at the faint pinprick of light that marks a candle on the wall. It hurts to look at, like looking at the sun, yet she can hardly make out the details of the room around her. Her eyes water, and she thinks how grateful she is she can at least blink them. She feels another split open up in her lower lip.
Auzzo: “Can you give us any other information about Seffon?”
Leah: “He calls himself Lord, not King. He deals in enchantment and conjurations. Those who serve him are under his spell.”
Both men scoff at the first bit, but all fall silent as Leah continues.
The Lord leans forward, blocking her sight of the candle. She can barely see his face.
Valerid: “What do you remember about your time with Lord Seffon?”
Leah: “Nothing.”
Valerid: “But did you spend time with him? You, Leah Louise Armande, did you spend time with him?”
Those gathered lean close to listen. Even Meredith seems drawn to the answer.
Leah feels another drop of blood fall from her chin, and a crack break open within her sinuses. Blood starts dribbling down the back of her throat as the wind picks up again, moving through her throat like an alien thing. “I don’t know.”
The Duke swears again, Leah thinks. She hasn’t had a hit of oxygen in a full minute.
“Let her go,” the Duke finally calms down enough to say.
The hand is lifted from the back of her neck. The lights immediately flare up, but only Leah seems dazzled. Control of her body returned to her, she slumps forward and coughs into her lap, feeling a dozen new tears open up along the back of her throat and up through her nose. She whispers out a cry, but cannot use her vocal cords for fear of doing more harm.
The room is quiet while she recovers, and she feels a building hatred for them because of it. They are giving me time to come to, after the ruthlessness, as though it isn’t their fault that I’m in this state. They are giving me time now, instead of during the questions.
She rasps out a shaky “Wa…” but her tongue gets stuck to the top of her mouth when she tries to finish the “-ter.” No-one moves to answer her request.
The Duke settles back against the wall. “So what does this mean?”
Lord Valerid shrugs with one arm. “I have no experience in what these magics – ” He has a distasteful expression as he uses the word, “ – usually yield. Wellen?”
From behind, Leah hears a few shuffling steps, then Wellen’s hesitant voice. “I’ve never heard of a truth spell of this strength maintained for so long. I don’t mean to say that the spell may have faltered over time, only that…well, look at her.”
Another moment of silence as Leah continues to wheeze.
Wellen scoffs at them all. “For sanity’s sake, give her something to drink.”
Lord Valerid shakes his head and picks up a mug from the desk, nursing it. “But what does it mean?” He pauses, looking to Wellen. “You know something, don’t you?”
Wellen shuffles a bit. “You know of her missing memories?” When the Lord nods, he continues. “She has been coming to me for help in remembering, both through magical means and through study. The questions she would ask me…I think that this is not Leah. Not the one we knew. She has been replaced.”
“What?” Lord Valerid says, setting the cup down in surprise. There is anger behind the word, but mostly horror.
“We had some success, with the Bitter Dream spell, and she was due for another session today – ”
“Bitter Dream…” a disdainful voice behind her says, and Leah shivers on instinct.
“It was successful,” Wellen says insistently. “She remembered some of her previous travels with the five, and perhaps further efforts, more focused, could have brought back more…”
“But if this is not Leah Talesh then how could she have her memories?” the Lord asks lazily. “It might as well have been a fabrication, or a false memory, or a story that she heard and internalised. Certainly the exploits of your fine group are spoken of widely throughout Volst, and beyond.”
This last, directed at Meredith, seems to help snap her out of her fear. “Yes,” she says. It sounds like an effort for her to speak through her fear. “But there were details…little things, that only Leah would know…things we didn’t tell outsiders, inside jokes, insignificant moments…”
“Could she have read them from your memories and used them to convince you?”
Leah would have expected that to have come from the Duke, or maybe his captain. Instead it was Wellen’s voice that spoke.
That seems to give people pause.
“We have suspicions that Seffon can influence minds, so why not read them? Could he have taken memories from Leah and given them to…” Wellen trails off, gesturing at Leah. “It’s been weeks since she was in Seffon’s lands; no compulsion could last that long in the first place, so it has to be a combination of compelling and supplanting, or something else entirely…”
Leah pushes herself upright in her chair with great difficulty. The captain offers her a cup of water, and she takes it. Drinking it burns, and swallowing makes her tear the skin more, but she continues, with slow sips. She barely takes three before the cup slips from her numb hands, the tin clanging against the wood floor, spilling across her legs and feet.
Meredith is looking at her in horror. Leah can’t move her face enough to say anything in her defence, or even to show by expression that there’s something wrong.
“I don’t know what to do about this.” Lord Valerid slumps back in his seat, rubbing his chin. “Gods, she looks pathetic. Can’t we do something to set her right?”
The Duke gives a quiet snort. “Why even try? This isn’t Leah, what does it matter if she dies right here and now?”
“It is Leah,” the captain says gently. All turn to look up at him, even Leah, though turning her neck hurts wildly. “The hedge-wizard is right that Seffon influences minds. He can charm, compel. But he cannot read minds. That is different magic.” The captain pauses, looking down at Leah with an intent look. Leah can tell from up close that the hazy eye is not a cataract, but a cloud of whitish-blue over half his pupil. “Sometimes, a very strong compulsion charm can wipe small parts of memory. This is…drastic. But not impossible.”
“But she said she wasn’t Leah Talesh,” the Duke protests.
“Without her memories, she is not.” The captain offers her a hand up. She stares at it, and wishes she had the saliva to spare to spit in it. She stands on her own, though warily. Meredith half-moves to help her, but hides the impulse quickly.
The captain looks her over. “Can you move again?”
Leah shakes out her arms, winces at the pain in her throat, then nods.
With a sudden lunge, he twists her arm and pins her down against the chair, hitting her forehead against it but not overly harming her. Her body resists, but clumsily, and she gasps out a croaking yell of “Bitch!” before the pain makes her fall silent again.
The captain barely raises an eyebrow. “I have sparred with her before. Leah may not be sharp but she is astute. She would not be pinned like that. She would see it coming. This is not Leah…and yet, it was. And parts of that are coming back.”
He resets and repeats the move, and Leah feels her other hand reach over to grab his elbow. She drops her weight and pulls his arm down, lifting her knee to impact the wrist that is holding her. The move does successfully free her hand, but a cloth-clad knee hitting a metal-clad arm makes a low ringing thud and leaves an immediate, huge bruise.
The captain smiles, and it reaches to his eyes. “The exact move I showed you. Well done. You’re still in there somewhere, Leah.”
Leah watches him, and hears mutters around the room as people understand this supposed demonstration of what she already knew. My body has muscle memory, and apparently people interpret that as other-Leah poking through this mask, this intruder.
“Can she be saved?” This from Meredith. “Does Cheden have…magics…that can bring her all the way back? Get rid of whatever’s inside her head?”
“Miss Havren, there is nothing inside her head but herself. It’s just a little…empty.” The captain turns another smile on Leah. “We can fix that, though. It’s just the result of a very poorly executed enchantment. You remember, don’t you?” He bends down slightly to be at her level. “You’re her, right? Whatever has gotten you confused, it’s just part of the spell error, and that’s why the truth spell saw it as a half-truth. You honestly believe you aren’t Leah Talesh, just because you lost all your memories.”
Leah wipes the blood away from her chin, and stares into the eyes of the captain. Up close she can see the faint lines around them, the right one with its floating haze of light blue, the other plain brown. The scar down his face.
A name jumps to mind from her conversations with Jeno. “Eschen?”
The captain grins. “That’s right.”
Breathing is becoming less painful, and she can move enough to pick up the cup from the ground. He smiles and reaches out a hand to accept it back.
Leah searches the face for some clue as to what his game is. She remembers the way his hand clutched at her neck in anger. She remembers every step she’s taken to preserve the other-Leah’s life, and how it has all come crumbling down because of him. She works her jaw and considers her words, considers her future, considers if there is any path that could lead to a safe, happy, or peaceful ending.
She looks back up at him. “I have no memory of you. But I want you to know, that I hate you.”
Letting gut instinct take over fully, she slugs him across the scarred temple with the tin cup.
