Iron Chamber of Memory by John C. Wright

you. Or living on an island with no lights.”
    “Privateers. And there are some lights. And, good heavens, why are you giving me the keys to your mansion?”
    “Because you are not a damned cat. I am not going to forget you, although I will take my troubles to Laurel, as you said, and lay my head in her lap.”
    Hal smiled and hid his unexpected stab of jealousy.
    Manfred said, “Besides, with these keys, you will not need to break in again. Ah, don’t worry! Mr. Drillot saw you going up Rade Street into Wrongerwood near sunset, and old Mrs. Gascoigne, who is a better spy than anyone in MI6, she saw you as well. There is nothing else on that part of the island but my house. I am just wondering why you did it?”
    “Well, it was pretty inconvenient of you to send me a message inviting me to come see your fine new house in its fine old condition, and then forget the date!”
    Manfred shook his head, mystified. “I never sent you any message. In fact, I had plans that day. Laurel insisted, she practically twisted my arm, that I go meet her old man-eating harpy of a mother in Zennor village to try to get her blessing for the wedding. The woman lives in a gray shack on stilts that has two legs in the sea, like something out of a children’s fairy tale where the children don’t make it out alive. I nearly didn’t. Good thing my dove saved me. So who sent you that message? I was not planning on showing you the place until this coming week. There is not a stick of furniture there. Just a cot.”
    “Why not stay in the inn? And why shoot at dogs from your window?”
    Manfred looked blank. “Dogs? I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about.”
    “I found the room where you slept. It was filled with empty cans, as if you had been camping out there for months, eating baked beans cold, and the floor was covered with spent shells from your hunting rifles.”
    “I dragged in my old army cot for a night exactly once. It was part of the transfer of title that I had to spend the night in the house. One of the damn stipulations in the original charter dating back to before the Spanish Armada. Why would I stay in an empty house when Mr. Stocks begs me to stay in the best room in the inn, free of charge? She feeds me rather better than cold beans straight from the can. I did that when I was a First Year, and I bloody well am never doing it again.”
    Hal Landfall felt himself suddenly more sober than he wanted to be. The sensation was the same as if a window in a warm room on a winter evening had opened behind him.
    Hal said, “You are right about things not adding up. We need to get to the bottom of this. I need to know I am not going mad like my poor … never mind. But this feels darker than it looks. That old house is strange. I wonder if it is…”
    “Hiding something?” asked Manfred.
    “I was going to say
protecting
something. Like there is a treasure there, for me.”
    “For you?” Manfred raised both eyebrows. “It’s my damn house.”
    “And somehow, I don’t know how, I get the feeling that Laurel is also involved. It is just a feeling that I have. I can't explain it.”
    Manfred sighed and said, “If there is a mystery involved, or a conspiracy, then it is coming at the worst possible time. I am supposed to be finishing my dissertation, supposed to be planning my wedding, and supposed to be beating my way through a massive thicket of British law and English customs, all while keeping my name out of the papers. The conspirators picked the time in my life when everything is demanding I not look into any conspiracy theories…” He had started the sentence as if he were telling a joke, but by the time his voice trailed off, his tone was very serious indeed.
    Hal Landfall said, “We can study the matter. Study hard! Things will clear up. We will get to the bottom of this. Together. As friends.” His eyes crinkled in a smile.
    Manfred said, “Well, you want to use any excuse not to work on your