Night had fallen by the time I awoke. I came to with a splitting headache and that certain crawling of the flesh and itching of the brain that signaled withdrawal. Groping in the dark, I found Anotine next to me and initiated a round of lovemaking, even though I knew she was not fully conscious. At that point it had been almost an entire day since I had my last infusion of the beauty, and I wasn't concerned about the ethics of the situation. She lay there with her eyes closed as I lifted her dress and moved her legs apart. I worked quickly to quell the urgency in my very blood.

At one point my ear was near her mouth, and I heard her say the name "Drachton" very faintly. Had I not been driven by addiction, I would certainly have stopped to ponder this, but as it was, nothing could have stopped me. When I finally backed off of her, I felt ashamed of what I had done, and wondered how I could explain it to her when she woke up. The beauty, a hundredfold stronger than my conscience, was turning me into an animal.

These self-recriminations lasted only as long as it took for the drug to produce its euphoria. Then my mind raced, spinning twisted philosophical theories that eventually smothered my guilt. I shelved my apprehensions by telling myself that Anotine would understand. As pleased as I was to have dispersed these troubling thoughts, I was now again aware of my surroundings. The fact that I could see no more than a few feet in front of me, and that we were in a strange forest in some country of the Master's mind brought with it a brand of paranoia worse than anything I had previously been feeling.

Twigs cracked and something moved through the fallen leaves. Who knew what nightmare creatures roamed this tract of Below's addled mind? I considered waking Anotine for company, but I didn't want to have to explain just yet. Instead, I huddled up, my arms clasped around my knees, and listened. The effects of the drug made everything more uncertain, and I began to see misty white forms moving through the trees in the distance. For the first time, I noticed that the temperature had dropped considerably from late afternoon, and I started to shiver.

Anotine mumbled a phrase in her sleep, and I looked over at her to see if she was awake. Her eyes were closed, but it was obvious she was having a bad dream, for her face went through a series of grimaces and winces. When I turned back to look out into the night, there was a man standing in front of me. He was tall, and at first, my heart leaped because I thought the Delicate had somehow returned to life and tracked us. I tried to cry out, but I couldn't. The beauty had, as always, left my throat incredibly dry. By the time I worked up some saliva and could have given voice to my fear, the shadowy figure had put his finger to his lips, motioning for me to be quiet.

He sat down in front of me, folding one leg under the other and wrapping himself in his cape. The fact that he adopted this nonthreatening posture did much to relieve my fear. When I saw his smile, I relaxed and asked his name.

"Scarfinati," he whispered.

"I know you," I said.

Though his body appeared to be in remarkable shape, his face, a veritable web of wrinkles, showed his age. Still he seemed very spry, and there was a certain light in his eyes that couldn't have been a reflection.

"I know you," he said. "Cley. Am I right?"

I nodded, incredulous at the fact that he had my name. "This is Anotine," I said, pointing to her.

"She is still beautiful," he said. "But don't wake her."

"Why are you here?" I asked.

"The same reason you are. To save you and Anotine, and in the process even this son of a dog turd, Below."

"Do you know …"

"I know a few things. I have it within my ability to follow the events of this world. This forest is my prison, so to speak.

I can go no farther than its boundaries, but I still see with the eyes of an adept. Many things are clouded but some things are clear. Unlike your friend there, I am aware that I'm a memory"

"This world is dying," I told him.

"Yes," he said. "That's why I am here. I can't stay long, but I've come to tell you how to reverse the ravages of the disease."

"Please," I said. "Do you know the antidote?"

"The antidote you speak of is more dangerous than the disease. I will tell you a better way to cure the illness. Enter the forest, and before long you will come across a path. Follow it. A half day's journey from here, due west, there is a large field, and in the very center of it lie the ruins of a City that Below was once the ruler of."

"The Well-Built City," I said.

"I would have used that title, but I can't say it without laughing uncontrollably." He reached out and put his hand on my shoulder. "Now listen. You must go to that place and find the memory book. I can tell you know what I am speaking of. Find in the book the page that begins with these three symbols: the eye, the hourglass, and the circle. When you have located it, burn it, but do not let the ashes fly away. Gather all of the ashes together and ingest them. I have calculated that once this strand of symbols has been obliterated from the mnemonic world, the disease that infects Below will be neutralized."

"But I thought the memory book could not be kept in the memory," I said.

"No, it can't be kept in the memory palace. It's too difficult to assign symbolic meaning to symbols that already carry a complex of assigned meanings. You are no longer in the specialized environment of the floating island, though. This is the country of things one cannot help remembering, the everyday memory, if you like. Here, it is not the meaning of the book that is preserved, only the book itself. Do you understand?"

I nodded in order not to offend, but I was never more unclear in my life. "Where will I find it in the city?" I asked.

"I don't know," he said. "I must be going."

"Wait," I said. "If the time should come when I leave here and return to my reality, I want to find the ship that Anotine sails on."

Scarfinati laughed. "Did you really believe that fairy tale?"

"It was a memory," I said.

"If only every memory was truth," he said. "Very little of that story has anything to do with what actually happened. That is why I didn't want you to wake Anotine. I believe it will be less tormenting for her to believe the lie. Below wasn't powerful enough at the time to carry out those achievements. Anotine's mind never seized. He and she had a child together while they were studying at Reparata. I think he might have even loved the child, but it made him nervous because of his memory of his sister. He engineered some drug he would take in order for him to be calm enough in her presence to spend time with her. No, there was nothing miraculous about it. He simply stole the memory book and abandoned his family."

"And what became of you?" I asked.

Scarfinati grinned. "He knew he wouldn't be able to make off with the book while I was still alive. The night he left, he poisoned my dinner and slit my throat. With anyone else, I might have seen it coming, but I had begun to think of him as my son. I still want to save …"

The old man couldn't continue, and I immediately saw the reason. A dark line of blood began to appear like a necklace around his throat. He brought his hand up to it quickly and gurgled some curse. Then he slowly got to his feet and staggered away into the night.