Black Sun Rising by C.S. Friedman Page B

were only fragments. Mostly incoherent. I don’t think she even knew I was there. There were three things, she said. And something about a demon in human form. She was hysterical by then, terrified that they were coming back. That’s what scared me most of all. Her reaction to it. I ... well, you know Ciani. It wasn’t like her. She told me they were coming back for her, to take her away somewhere.” He bit his lower lip, remembering. “That she would rather die than go, and would I please kill her before it could happen....”
    Damien looked toward the door, but said nothing.
    “That was when I decided what had to be done. I figured I could make it seem like her defenses had overloaded, blown the place to hells ... and no one would ask questions. Except the insurance people,” he added bitterly. “I figured I could use the shop’s contents as a sacrifice, leave everything in there to burn ... there’s power in that kind of destruction, you know that. And if I did it right ... whoever was after her, they would think she was dead. And leave her alone.” He drew in a deep breath, still shaking. “An adept could have done it and told you all about it. I couldn’t. In order to make it take right, I didn’t dare tell anyone....” He looked up at Damien, bloodshot eyes glistening. “That’s why I couldn’t tell you then. I’m sorry.”
    “Go on,” he said quietly.
    “I brought her here. No one saw us, praise fate; the true night had kept everyone indoors. No one—and nothing—bothered us. I managed to salvage some books that first trip, but the rest of it had to go; the value of what’s destroyed is what gives a sacrifice its power, you know.” He hesitated, as though waiting for the priest to criticize him; Damien said nothing. “I threw on a robe and ran back, and did it. Blew the place. But it worked, didn’t it?” He shut his eyes, and shivered. “All that knowledge. All those artifacts. If I had known then what I know now ... it was more of a sacrifice than I was even aware of. Because I didn’t know about her .”
    “What about her?”
    He looked toward the door. “She’s in there,” he whispered. “Alive. Physically uninjured. Only ... without memory. They took her memory. And the fae ...” He turned away until Damien could no longer see his face. His shoulders shook. “She’s lost it! She’s like us, do you understand? You and me. Most of humanity. They took it away, took it all away, she can’t See any more....”
    Damien put a hand on the man’s shoulder. Tried to steady them both. Inside, his thoughts were whirling. “She doesn’t remember anything?”
    “She remembers who she is. What she is. What she was. But she hasn’t got the knowledge, you understand? All those million and one little facts that she had accumulated over the years—all the things that made her a loremaster—that’s gone now. You understand? This isn’t some godsawful accident that just happened to strike her with amnesia. They took her knowledge—they took her Vision! And they left her with just enough to understand what had been lost. No wonder she wanted to die!”
    It was only sinking in, what he was saying. The ramifications. “And now her research library—”
    “Is gone!” Senzei said angrily. As if daring him to criticize. “I did what I thought was best. Sometimes you have to make decisions so godsdamned fast that there’s no real time to think. You do the best you can. I did the best I could. I thought maybe my arrival had interrupted them, that they might come back any minute to hurt her more ... that’s what she thought. She was terrified—and I couldn’t think of any other way to protect her.” His hands had balled themselves into fists, knuckles white. “And it worked, didn’t it? You couldn’t read past it. The adepts can’t. They’ve called in consultants, but no one can make heads or tails of what happened. Even the godsdamned insurance people can’t read through it.