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A Memory Book


Ah, my Baron Who Moves Like Light Glittering Through Crystal. What can I recall about him before his memory slips away?

He was tall—but they're all tall to one who adopts the stature of a Bosmer. I had good reasons for doing that, and I can almost remember them … something about being nimble and making a smaller target.

But remembering Light-Through-Crystal—you see how it goes, Tutor, I'm so easily distracted. I need your cool words to flow through me, a rippling current, to bring me back to focus.

Focus! That's the word, exactly! Light-Through-Crystal was all about focus, it was his reason for being. In battle, he moved from point to point almost instantaneously, scintillating from front to flank to other flank, his attacks flashing out like malondo-rays. I remember him when we fought the Five Recalcitrants, how he glowed with varliance and ferocity! Shields shattered like glass, and the ground was littered with fangs and antlers.

And we were triumphant! I never want to lose that day, Tutor. Place it carefully in the Reservoir of Recollection, that I may relive it whenever I need to.

The Baron Who Moves Like Heat Lightning! Can you not picture him in your mind? He arcs from one cloud to another, following no predictable path, going where he will at a speed no eye can follow! There! Like that!

But no: I'm fooling myself. Those are only words, a recollection of a description of a vision. The vision itself … is lost to me. Intellectually, I know where and how we fought, who we defeated and when, but the memory of the actual events is foggy, slipping away into the dusk of the forgotten past.

I know, for example, that Heat Lightning fought beside Seht and me when we battled the Borers from Within. I know that Seht and I dueled The Hinged Ones while Heat Lightning overcharged the Null Pistons until they cracked and burst. I know it happened. I just can't remember the event itself. Or my baron, who won the day for us all.

Help me, my Tutor. Teach me to remember the Baron Who Moves Like Heat Lightning. I am lonely for that part of me, and want to see it again. At least, that's how it feels.

I have an idea, my Tutor! We shall try something different to remember the Baron who Moves like Wind in the Reeds: we shall reconstruct him by pure logic!

Wind: air movement, amorphous but persistent, varying in vector, pressing from every point of the compass, strong, then soft, then strong again.

Reeds: tall drying grass stalks, foundations of literature, rattling and swaying, bending before pressure, or vibrating in tones if constrained.

Baron: a figure of mastery, a person made for warfare, an aspect of myself that concentrates a body of skill into a skilled body, an incarnation of artistry.

Therefore: the Baron who Moves like Wind in the Reeds! We know his components, thus we must remember him complete, in totality, and see him clearly before us! We must ….

No. No. It doesn't work like that.

What shall I do, my Tutor? What was it you said about being reminded of what is within, by someone who is without? What was that, Riparius? Say it again.