Finally the day came when he untied my hands and feet, and told me, "You are finished with it now, Cley. Don't worry about trying to find more; I have destroyed the last of it."

He led me out into the forest to a pool and made me wash. When we returned to my home, and I had dressed in fresh clothes, he said, "I have something for you."

Holding out his hand, he opened it slowly to reveal the green veil. "Don't worry," he said, laughing, "I washed it."

With the veil returned to me, I felt whole again. My body began to rejuvenate from the ravages of the beauty. My mind began to clear, and I knew I had to leave Wenau.

"Where will you go?" asked Misrix when I told him of my plan.

"I don't know. Somewhere far away from here."

"Travel with me to the Beyond," he said. "I am going back. This humanity does not suit me well. I want to lose myself in the forest again. I want to fly above the Palishize and hunt like the creature I truly am. I have thought far too much for a demon."

I pictured the Beyond, its boundless tracts of undiscovered territory. "Paradise is there," I said. "I tried to reach it once, but I failed."

"You've got to keep trying," he said.

We made our plans. Misrix flew back to the ruins of the City to gather the supplies we would need for our journey. During the days of our preparation, I wrote this testament for you, good people of Wenau. It is an explanation, a warning. It is a love story. I hope it can somehow cure the evil I had no choice but to loose upon you. Embrace your memories, but be wary. The truth lies in them.

In the small hours of the morning, I will lay these pages on the doorstep of Semla Hood's home, and then Misrix and I and the black dog will strike out for the Beyond, where the demon hopes to forget his humanity and I hope to remember mine.

Acknowledgments

I could not have written this novel without having read two books about mnemonics by Frances A. Yates—The Art of Memory and Giordano Bruno and the Hermetic Tradition. These are truly incredible works of scholarship, and I recommend them to anyone with an imagination.

I also must thank the following individuals for their help and encouragement:

Bill Watkins, Kevin Quigley, Mike Gallagher, and Frank Keenan for reading and commenting on this manuscript in its various stages of creation.

Walter, Jean, Dylan, and Chelsea for their generous technical support.

Jennifer Brehl, editor of this book, who, amidst the baffling maze of memory, would not allow me to forget to remember.