The sun was setting. It was an all in all fantastic, even picturesque, view. My mind wasn't on it.

I put the boat in more or less the same spot and badly tied it to the dock. The man was not about. I went to the fishery and opened the door just enough to peek inside.

The man stood at one of the tables. I didn't have a good view, but he seemed to glide and slosh more than walk with an odd lurching motion that made the fine hair on the back of my neck raise.

My fingers twitched, but I shut the door. I needed to talk to the sheriff. Surely someone would have noticed how weird all this was?

I made my way to the inn, asked the innkeep.

"It's a bit late, but she should be home," he finished. "You should call it a night though, traveler."

"I'll be right back."

I turned down the road, plans already forming. I pounded on the sheriff's door. It opened. My nose wrinkled. The smell of fish permeated the air. The woman looked at me, eyes like glass. Behind her, the floor looked covered in fish guts. She did not seem to notice. "What can I do for you, stranger?"

I hesitated. "Just introducing myself, thought I'd see if there were any strange happenings while I'm passing through. But it's an awfully quiet town."

"Nice to meet you." She extended her hand. I took it. It was slimier than it looked. "I'm Sherriff Thornston."

"Valac. I'll be at the inn, if something comes up."

"You didn't see anything, did you, stranger?"
I smiled, a little bleakly. "It's just a quiet lakeside town. I'll probably head into the woods tomorrow. Glad to hear everything is all right."
"Do you want to come in?"

"Nah. It's getting late. Pleasant evening." I stepped back. The door did not close. I very much did not want to turn my back on it, but I had to. I walked quickly. There was only one thing for it.

I stopped around the corner to string my bow. I needed some oil. The innkeep, who seemed to be the only one with any wits about him, might have some. As I turned down the street, I froze at the creek of every door on the block opening. One by one, every head turned toward me.

I shot down an alley and jumped, caught the eaves of a window ledge and propelled myself up to the roof. I rolled across it, keeping low, jumped down to the next roof. This seemed to have confused them, and they were not quick. In fact, they just stood there, on their porches. I might have been able to take the street.

I dropped down by the wharf and slunk low through the fish guts in the dark. Through a window, I spied four figures. They were talking in a sense, but they weren't really saying anything, as if they were only going through the motions. When one of them moved, they seemed to glide.

I crouched with my back to the wall, took a breath. Peeking again through the window, I was able to find the entrance to the basement, open and just inside. What I'd give for a damned torch.

No matter. I'd make do.

"Mister." A hand tugged my shirt.

I jumped. "William?"

The boy tugged at me. "That's my dad in there, mister. You're not gonna hurt him, are you?"
I swore. "He's not your da, William. He just looks like him."

"But that's him, Mister. What are you gonna do, Mister?" The hand on my arm had six fingers. Like the drawing. William had had a teddy bear, and he had been very much against leaving the house.

"What I have to."

William took a step back and started to run. Something on the ground moved. A long, thin trail of fishy slime.

I grabbed my knife and sliced through the trail of slime. William shrieked. Every villager turned toward the sound. The body of William collapsed and flattened into ooze. I dropped the knife back into my boot. The villagers began their lurching slide toward me.

Fear and need thrilled through me. My hands cupped together. I could not say from where I knew to do this. I had been around wizards and the arcane all my life. Maybe I had seen it in a vision. My infernal bloodline roared through my veins as I reached toward it. I felt my body heat. Blood rushed so loudly I could hear nothing but my own pulse. Fire spewed from my fingers in an arc, leaving me numb in the power's wake. I bent double, gasping.

Inside, the four figures slid to the floor. They did not bend or duck, but melted downward like a flan and disappeared from view. The fire ate through the wood and thatch with a vengeance. A broken bottle of fish oil caught flame.

I pulled up the knitted snow mask over my nose, to help against the smoke, and shouldered the door open. Smoke poured out of the open door. Glass shattered. Any trace of the people were gone. I picked up a jar of fish oil from a cabinet and tucked it into one of my jacket pockets. I scooped a bucket of salt from the floor as I made my way to the basement. A rusted padlock held it shut. With the heavy bucket, I smashed the padlock. I kicked open the doors and jumped down.

A wall had been broken away, the masonry chipped away by nearby tools. It led into a cavern. I sighed and headed in.

In places, I had to bend double, moving the bucket back to be carried by my tail, which I couldn't do for long. It opened after about ten minutes and I could walk upright. Distantly, I thought I heard the sounds of wailing and I followed the sound. The ground was damp, muddy in places, but seemed sturdy. Around a bend was William.

The boy's face looked fearful, scared.

I raised my sword. The boy held up empty palms. "Wait! I want to talk."

Slowly, I lowered the weapon. "Talk quickly then." I looked for that fishy cord, but it seemed lost in the mud.

William said, "I don't want to die. And I'm not hurting anyone."

I scoffed. "You're kidnapping people and replacing them with something that isn't who they were."

"It's more who they were than they could ever be, don't you see?" It touched the place a heart would be. "They have all these memories. They forget them, they lose them. They die and then they are lost forever. It's a greater tragedy than any burning library. I want to hold them forever."

It was genuine, that was what was terrible about it. The monster believed what it was doing was moral and right, and it did care for them, for their memories. All my life, I had been around created abominations and undead. They never believed what they were doing was wrong. They always justified their actions. No one believed they were evil.

It continued, "My master wants to treasure those memories, make them last for an eternity when they are one with him."

"Who is your master?"

William smiled softly. "The Great One."

Too vague to get a name out of it. "What is the Great One?"
"He has been here long before humans or elves, and will be here long after."

An old god? A demon? Something otherworldly? "Where are the people?"

"I keep them safe with me."

"You need to let them go."
It eyed the blade. "If you go, now, I'll let them go."

I stared. "You're hurting them."

William shook his head adamantly. It was a very child-like motion. "No. I'm not evil. I care about them. All of them. That's why I want to hold them close forever."

I thought of the bones in the lake. "What creature left those bones in the lake?"

It seemed sad, suddenly. "I was new and confused. I was like a child, and I only knew hunger." It looked up at me. It really did look sorrowful. "But I've learned since then."

One mystery solved, I guess.

I knelt, so we were eye-level, as I had before. "I don't think you're evil." I swung the bucket forward, showering the creature in a spray of salt, clanging the bucket against it. It shrieked, stumbling backwards. I swung with the sword, slicing what was William. A spray of greenish liquid bled from it. The body of William liquified into a puddle and raced along the ground. I pursued it. A human groan diverted my attention and I froze.

A well-dressed man, covered in ooze, groaned in the mud. I rolled him over so he didn't drown in it. I propped the villager up against the wall, and looked the direction the slime creature had gone. It had seemed to "spit" the man out after its injury. How it had carried the man with it, I didn't care to think about.

I could try to drag the person back alone, but it would mean abandoning the others, then there was the fire and the crowd to worry about. There hadn't really been any alternate paths, so I continued after it.

By the way it spoke, I was guessing it was a piece of a hive mind. More, I didn't think it was intentionally cruel. It hadn't liked the salt, but I didn't have any more of that. It had fled at the start of the fire, too.

As I walked, I applied the fish oil to the sword. It stank, but so did the rest of the tunnel. I stopped to light a torch, which I carried in my other hand.

Sometimes, I spied the odd rat or crawling insect. The tunnel was wide enough to walk upright the rest of the way, possibly to make it more comfortable for those the creature secreted away. The noises were getting louder.

The cavern opened just ahead. I hunched down and moved quietly toward the noise.

People, most barely conscious, floated in a greenish red slime. The slime surged around them. I at first thought they were dead, but I could see them breathing. The slime must have somehow sustained them. A few clawed toward the surface, but as if they were exhausted. Sometimes, a head would emerge, and they would scream, claw at the slime covering eyes and mouth, choke on the slime, then were pulled back under.

The ground was about five feet down, with three other exits at similar intervals. It probably had built an entire network under the village, creeping up through basements and earth. The smell was overpowering, but did not quite block out the exquisite taste of suffering.

I steeled myself and jumped. My boots hit the slimy ground and I started forward. "Release them. Now," I yelled.

A piece of the slime pulled from the whole and formed again into William. It bothered me that it kept picking the boy as its messenger. It did it because some part of it knew it troubled me, I thought.

William said, "See? They're whole. I wouldn't hurt them."

I shook my head, striding toward the creature. "Then why are they screaming?"

"They're frightened. They do not understand. They are so valuable."

I glowered. I touched the sword blade to the fire of the torch. The oil caught. It would destroy the blade. "Let them go."

"Wait. A deal." Fear crept onto its features. "I'll leave them. And I won't come back to this village. But you have to let me go."

I took a breath, looked at every face. But it would go to other places and do the same. It could sweep through whole villages without anyone even noticing. I gripped the sword, but didn't look at William. "But they wouldn't be themselves, would they?"

"They'll eat. Drink. Sleep."

"But they wouldn't remember."
"I would hold their memories. They would still exist."

I shook my head. "At a point, creature, memories is all we are." I swung the sword. The blade cleaved neatly through the slime. I twisted it, slicing upward.

The slime creature recoiled. It flailed, then it pulled the mass of its body against the wall. It was protecting the people within itself from harm.

I cut into it again, taking an appendage. The arm regrew, down to the sliced off clothing. There were six fingers on one hand. It couldn't perfectly replicate a person from the memories of one.

A gushing sound rattled from one of the exits, like a sound of rushing water. The rest of its body.

I cut, sliced, dodged the weird pseudopod attacks. A pseudopod slapped the torch out of my hand. The fishy substance smoked. It would stretch its arms, or bits of itself, until it no longer resembled a person, then reform back, alternately from William or parts of it. When I would step too close to a wall, a pseudopod would reach out to strike, but had to relinquish hold on a person. Sometimes, the person screamed.

"Don't hurt them!" it cried at my wild strike at the pseudopod. The slime sunk back, away from the burning sword, rather than risk hitting the people inside by accident. I attacked William with renewed vigor. The sound of rushing water hurried toward us. I cracked the jar against a rock and threw it toward William. It hit him, breaking and splashing over him. The fire danced around my rapier and I plunged it toward the creature. The oil ignited and burst.

A pseudopod shoved me to the side and I lost my footing, rolled in the mud. Another struck out, latched onto my shoulder. It crawled up my neck, and oozed over my face. I felt it pry at my lips, but seeped past my mask, into my nose. I felt it crawl back further, a cold sensation of it in my brain and I screamed. My mouth filled with ooze. I slashed at it, rolled away. It fell off of me and I coughed, choking on the ooze. I pulled the mask down to my neck and vomited the slime. It was hard to think. Hard to focus.

What had it taken? I shook my head. The sound of water roared. Fear wound its way down into my gut, and I sprang up. I needed to get out of this cavern. I ran to the nearest exit in a panic, down the hall, skidded at the corner, and stopped.

William's voice. "We can still reconcile. It's not too late, Mister."

I turned and slashed at the half-formed William. It shrieked from the mouths of the people it had taken, an animalistic sound that rattled me and echoed down the paths, amplifying the sound, then it stopped. There was a thin trail of slime. Slowly, I walked back the way I had come. The fire flickered out with nothing left to burn.

I climbed down from the exit to look over the people. The slime was gone, leaving only a sticky residue. They were helping each other, but most were confused.

It ran so much deeper than disorientation; several only looked around as if they were simple, or were recognized by others, but didn't know them. I was surprised that I recognized a few from what the monster had puppeted.

A woman approached me. She was a less fish-like version of the sheriff. She said, "I saw what you did."

Her tone was not accusatory, but grateful.

I nodded. I didn't know what to say. Thanks, I saw you trapped. Thanks, it was your screams I followed to get here. I settled on, "I wish I could have gotten here sooner."

She shook her head. "It's a whole bloody mess."

"I need to get someone in the tunnels, and we need to find a way out. The path I took is… no longer useful." I looked around, tried to remember which way I had come in from. Only one path had footprints that only went inside. I followed that back. I went a little past the fellow in the mud, but the scent of ash and smoke drove me back. I carried the man back to the others. As the only one who could see, I said, "Stay here. I'll find a way out and be back."

The sheriff grabbed his arm. "You can't leave us here in the dark."
I stared. "If all of you follow me, and I lead you to a dead end, we'll be worse off. You have to trust me."

Slowly, she let go. "Then we have to trust you."

The first way I picked, I found was unfinished, and looking at a compass, I guessed this way led out of the village, toward the farms. The central cavity was probably at the center of it. It had started there, and was burrowing into basements or privies, after the people. I shuddered. It hadn't gotten to William; there weren't many children among the survivors. Not enough memories to be appetizing.

But it had used the people it was controlling to bring those at the surrounding farms to it, as it had with Asper.

Worse, I didn't think it was dead. The bulk of it had arrived in time for me to flee and get somewhere it couldn't use its mass against me.

The scent of fresh air drove me deeper down, until I could smell cooking fires. A few more minutes, and I moved aside a patchwork pallet from the hole. A house was inset on a hill, the first floor a woodworking shop. The slime creature had probably seeped through and infected the carver. A ladder led into the house. I gathered up anything I could use for torches, found an oil lamp. I filled it. I carried all of it in a bundle and hurried back the way I had come.

The villagers, in the dark and confused, could not go far on their own. I turned on the oil light, dimly, so as not to sting their eyes. The sheriff took it. As I started passing out makeshift torches, just sticks with some fabric, dipped in tar, they lit them, and passed them on to those with their wits still about them.

I helped them climb up to the path out. I said the same short speech every few people, "It's only one way, lets out at a carpenter workshop."

Torches were brought in a long march down the hall. We helped the feeble or those struggling under the weight of lost sheriff and I were among the last to leave. I walked behind her lantern.

She said, "I do not know how we can repay you. You've done a great deed for us."

I was quiet a moment, then said, "A woman named Gertruda said you needed help."

"Gertruda," she said, tried to remember. I thought, for a moment, that she might, but her memories failed her. She explained, "I was not taken long, but long enough. I don't remember her."

"It'll come back to you."

I hoped. Something in my memory was missing too. I didn't feel it like a void. It was strange; I must just skip right over it. I couldn't even tell what was missing.

Outside, the crowd was dispersing and they were being led to their homes. The fires at the fishery had died and smoke rose into the night sky. I fought back a yawn. It would be morning in a few hours. I supposed I still had a bed waiting at the inn.

As I turned to go to the inn, someone called, "Tiefling."
I turned toward them.

An elf watched me idly. "I'm Asper." I guaranteed that was a shortened form of his name, maybe his human wife's last name. "My friend, Bartholomew, isn't in a state to go home. I will need some help getting him to my farm."

I smiled and helped him with the heavyset, well-dressed man. Out of town up the hill, I carried the man on my back. Asper said, "Ah, my son has seen us coming. There is a light in the window."

"What of his mother?"
"Gone." He shrugged as if it were nothing.

Asper was greeted by a rowdy and excited William. I helped Bartholomew to a guestroom. I turned to go, but Asper asked if I wanted to stay in another room.

William grabbed at my legs. "Please stay!"

I fought a yawn. It was a long walk back to town. "All right. But I need to head out in the morning."

Asper inclined his head. "You want a drink?"
"I want a bath most of all."
Asper laughed, but waved me to the bathhouse. "I need one as well. I'll join you once my son tells me all his news."

I stoked a fire under it and pumped the water into a large tub. I was barely pulling off my boots when Asper arrived, Bartholomew in tow. Had he just used me to do the manual labor? No, he did need to visit with his son. It was unfair of me to have such jaded thoughts. I think it was all the dark things I had seen lately getting to me.

"I'm afraid we're all so covered in mud and slime. What was that thing—Valac, you said your name was?"

I nodded, then glanced at the drooling Bartholomew. "Who was your friend?"
"Finest lawyer in the north. Came here for an early retirement. Some trouble with a gang in the south." He shrugged. "Help me undress him, will you? You look strong."

I stood up. I didn't tower over Asper, or much of anyone, but in muscle, I was twice the other's size. With two of us moving the other, we got him out of his filthy clothes.

Asper said, "Do you think this memory loss is temporary?"
I shook my head. "I'm not sure." I looked up. "Which is why I need to leave in the morning." We set the big man down on one of the benches and wiped him off first. It was worse than a child. Children had enough curiosity and alertness to imply there was intelligence in there. The man would walk, if you walked with him. He would sit up if you propped him up, but this seemed about it. "There's a temple in Bryn Shandor that might be able to help."

Worried Bartholomew might drown if he fell over, we carried him back to the house, wrapped in a dressing gown, and into bed. We went back to the bathhouse to attend to ourselves.

I scrubbed off and rinsed, but couldn't wait to soak in the water. Asper stared at the tattoos, but made no mention of them. I stepped right into the water, unbothered by how hot it was. Steam rose around me and I sunk down to my neck. It felt impossibly good. I settled into the water.

"It was William that sent me looking for you. I knew there was something wrong with the fishery, but I couldn't say what."

"He's a bright boy." I shut my eyes. I could fall asleep in the steam, the scent of the fire.

Asper leaned his head back against the side of the tub. "I don't know how this town can ever repay you."

Asper seemed fairly normal. The sheriff did too, and many of the others. Some were as bad off as Bartholomew, but I couldn't make much sense out of some of it. It could be that Asper just had more memories than others to drain. It could also be that it had gone after those with more interesting memories first. There was so much I didn't know about that creature.

The "Great One" was too vague for me to guess. Plenty of cultures called their gods things like that, especially when they did not wish to specifically invoke their god's attention.

I opened one green eye. "The bath is a good start." I closed my eyes and relaxed into the water.

Asper sat up. The water sloshed and I felt the other crawl up my legs. My eyes opened. Asper's hand settled on my shoulder.

#

I was a little resentful that, despite how friendly Asper had been at the bathhouse, he had been adamant that it stayed there.

I was given a guestroom, but despite my best efforts, I wasn't going to be falling asleep on the bed any time soon. The carpet was comfortable enough, and with a blanket and a pillow, more than I needed.

It was near noon when I woke, and I cursed with passion that I had slept so long. I'd be traveling well after dark. Cursing my host's name, I crawled out of my makeshift bed miserably. The house was warm, and I could smell food. My clothes were folded nicely, and cleaned, outside the door. I grabbed them and dressed quickly. I was parched, hungry, and still had a long day ahead. William was in the kitchen with a woman. The woman paused often, had trouble remembering where things were, but William helped her.

She smiled at me. "You're the one that saved the town. I wasn't sure what you'd like so…" She gestured. "I've been keeping it warm. I wasn't sure how long you'd sleep."

I smiled, never showing teeth. "I'm surprised you're up and about so soon."

"It's good to be moving around." There was something haunted in her eyes for a moment, then the smile came back. "Let me get it on a plate for you. What would you like, I have—"

"A little of all of it," I said, then excused myself to the dining room. She and William piled a plate high, and William sat with me, staring at me with what I realized was hero worship.

William said, "What other adventures have you been on?"

I cut into a thick chunk of ham. "Well, let me think." I told him about the incident on the Rivermaiden, since that one was making the rounds around Ten Towns anyway. William was amazed that I had prevailed. In fairness, so was I. William was enamored with the idea of adventure.

Asper was listening at the door, leaning against the frame, with all the disapproval I expected, and a hint of the kind of worry any father might have when their child starts getting big ideas for adventure.

William asked questions and, in the way of children, droned on about his own stories. I tried to eat quickly during those moments, then stood up. "I need to be on my way. Long journey ahead."

"Will you be back?" William said.

I turned. "Yes, I need to find some help for the people with lost memories."

William looked crestfallen that I was leaving, but awed that I was off to continue saving the town. Asper said, "I went into town this morning to collect Bartholomew's clothes. I picked up your effects." He smiled. "Found the key to the trunk in your pocket when Anna was cleaning your clothes."

I made a face, but I couldn't exactly turn down clean clothes and a nice deed. I gathered my things, adjusting my collection of weapons, my pack. William appeared by the door, as if blocking my exit. "Take me too."

Asper, down the hall, straightened. I picked up William and deposited him out of the way. "No." I opened the door and glanced at Asper, who looked nothing but relieved. "Live your life."

I camped at a crossroad that was a common enough campsite for travelers. One day, it might sport an inn. Two days to Bryn Shandor on foot. I needed a horse.

A group of city guards walked along the road headed toward me around noon the next day. Their armor did not fit all of them well and they were not dressed for travel out this far.

"City's taxes," one of them said as I neared their number. "I have a writ, stating that all travelers must pay a tax, in accordance with their own personal wealth and possessions."

Gold leaf gilding wrapped around a lead coin.

I tilted my head. "No reason I can't do that in town." I stepped around them.

A pike blocked my way. "I have my orders. Don't know anything about exceptions. I'll write you a receipt and you can take it up with the officials."

My expression turned cunning, a glint of a fang. "Oh, of course, of course. I'm headed that way anyway, and we aren't far off. Why don't you escort me to the town and we can get all this messy business sorted out."

The first raised his document, turning it to face me. It did look official. The seals were there, signatures in place. A very good forgery, in fact. "Can't be doing that. We're stationed on the road."

I nodded along. I did not have time for this nonsense and I was internally screaming as I thought of what was going on in the world. Werewolves, demons, gods—and these bandits were getting in my way.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw archers in the trees. "Right, well, let's just go over there to that stump, and I can put my things down for a proper inventory." Before they could object, I walked briskly toward the stump, further from the archers. The stump was down a ditch, putting me at a bad angle for them.

The bandit followed me. The others hovered a short distance back. I swung my pack down, in case I had to fight, then I spun toward them. The earth shook in a faint tremor. Whispers all around them. I said, "You had best leave."

The bandits scattered. One said, "I told you they all have magic!"

Another yelled, "I said it wouldn't work!"

They ran for the forest on the other side. The archers panicked. The leader dropped whatever he had been holding in his haste to escape and scramble out of the ditch. I stalked after him, but slowly, giving the other plenty of time to panic and scamper off.

I went back to grab my pack. The leader had dropped their writ. I bent to pick it up and looked it over, then stuffed it into my jacket. I'd turn it into the local authorities to deal with it. Bandits were not what I was concerned with, though they did always find ways to compound problems.

I pulled out my map and marked the location where the bandits had fled to before I moved on.

I made it to Bryn Shandor in the late afternoon. They ordinarily took a long time to process visitors, but I was quickly becoming a bit of a celebrated hero in Ten Towns.

The hole in my memory ate away at me, but I needed to get the guard onto those bandits before they were a problem. Besides, the document looked official and they might have a leak somewhere.

A guard seemed pleased to see me. "Valac, you're back. Not after more traitors, I hope?"

I shook my head. "No. More mundane and I think you can handle it. I need to make a report."

The guard took me to a chair and wrote down notes from my statement, then had me write it out once he understood that it was serious. I handed over the writ as evidence. The guard set it aside and asked a few questions.

I stared at the seals. A couple were generic, another was of House Fangberg. Had they been using the bandits as part of their smuggling scheme?

I wondered if it were a stolen seal or a coincidence, but I was skeptical.

Finding out the answer risked getting involved, though, and I was eager to be quit of it. The temple wasn't far from the watchhouse and it was getting colder as the day turned to night. More people were heading home.

I was greeted by some acolyte, and some insistence brought me to the local priestess. Just by the look on her face, I knew she didn't like me. Whether it was because I was so clearly Thayan, or because I was a tiefling, or just because of the tattoos, I couldn't say.

I kept my distance and recounted what had happened in Easthaven. Despite her dislike of me, she still saw it as a divine call to action.

She looked at the images the barbarian had drawn in charcoal. "Do you know anything more of this 'Great One'?" she said.

"Only that he collects memory. Such as the people in the town. He took a bit of mine too. Is there a cure for it?"
She nodded absently and stood up, looking through her shelves of religious texts. "It's not in any demon bestiary." She picked one off of a lower shelf and brought the heavy tome to a desk. She opened it. I loomed beside her, peering at the pages. She stopped on an illuminated page. "Shilset. Don't look at me like that; it was ancient and named from the sound it made."

I considered. "Shilset." If I had a mouth full of jam, it might sound about how the slime creature had when it sloshed about underground.

"I'm afraid they, or it—It's confusing, because it can break itself into pieces to report back to the whole—It mostly wants knowledge and memory. On its face, it doesn't seem evil, but it's the way it acquires it that is harmful."

I nodded. "It never seemed inherently evil. It did try to protect the people it had in its care. It said that it didn't want their memories and knowledge to die with them."

She glanced at me. "So you see, evil but without evil intent." She left the page open and went to a desk drawer. "Thankfully, it is still a magical memory loss, and that, I can cure."

She removed a satchel and plopped it on the desk. The crystal inside clunked together. She pulled open the drawstring and searched through the geodes and cut crystals until she found a pale, cloudy amethyst. She walked over to me. I stilled while she whispered. I felt nothing, but I could see the crystal darkening, the color getting deeper purple until it filled.

The priestess set the crystal aside. "Thankfully, crystals are not expensive. I feel we will need a lot of them."

I rubbed my temples. My head felt clearer. The memories did not flood back; they just settled back into place as if they were never gone. "It didn't remove them permanently then?"

"No. If it did that, you wouldn't form new ones for it to take in the future. Fortunately, Shilset isn't exactly evil."
I snorted. "Do you know anything else about it?"

She waved her hand to the book. "Shilset is a creature that lives deep underground." She frowned. "But its master is evil. Juiblex. Some say it's Ghanadour, but it's difficult to parse."

Gooseflesh raised along my arms and I suppressed the urge to shiver. I stared at the ceiling. "Right. Good talk. Thanks for that." I gestured to the crystal. "Will you help the people of Easthaven?"
She held out her hands. "There is no option not to." She gestured to the imagery of her faith, painted on the ceiling in horrific detail. "The Suffering God commands that we must all bear such burdens, so we will go to shoulder theirs."

"But you're healing them?"

"Yes."

I chose not to point out the contradiction between the two statements and went to the book. There was only about a page about Shilset, most of which we had discussed.

Shilset seemed to be a unique aberration, but wasn't necessarily a demon despite whom it served. It could reproduce images of people, but usually only went off of their own memories, or memories they held of other people, which was always distorted—hence the six fingers. The drawing of the creature was a blob the artist had somehow managed to make not look like a dropped jelly.

But it didn't explain the second figure in the barbarian's drawing with the eyes, or the bones in the lake. Had Shilset worked in conjunction with another creature? Shilset drained their memories, then gave the drained people to something else?

Hell, I needed to go back. I pinched the bridge of my nose. First, I needed to sleep. I couldn't do anything if I were exhausted.

A horse wouldn't be a bad idea either. I could figure out how to ride. And a new sword.

I should let Taervelaine know what was going on too, and see if Talia had made it back. Maybe check in on Aela if I was able.

Taervelaine's home had the lights on and the maid was glad to see me, showing me inside and down the hall to Taervelaine's den, where he seemed to be in discussion with a feminine voice I recognized as Talia. I picked up my pace. They were talking spiritedly in elvish when the maid announced me. I swept in.

Taervelaine said, "Excellent, you've returned. Where is Bartholomew?"

My shoulders sagged. "I've got to talk to you about what happened in Easthaven." I looked at Talia. "But what happened with Malar?"

Talia leaned back in the chair. "I couldn't find the bastard. But there's a whole network of tunnels down there. They must have been building it for years." She shuddered. "Right under our feet, and we never noticed."

I shivered. I wanted to go down in them, find where they were smuggling up creatures and plug up that hole like a rat's hole. But I knew I had little time. I needed to get Aela out. And maybe Gertrude had some way to save me from the curse. I said, "Did you explore all of it?"

"No. Some areas are unstable. We're trying to find all the entrances to it." Because that would reveal the rest of the conspirators.

I took a breath. "About Easthaven." I told them, as briefly as I could, what I had found there, why I did not have Bartholomew. "Some clerics went to heal the people there, but Bartholomew was one of the ones caught. I couldn't bring him back with me." I took a breath. "I think I need a horse. And I've got to get a new sword."

Taervelaine considered and rose. "I'll give you enough for a horse, and I have a rapier in the armory you can have. There's a stable at the edge of town. Best to make haste." He glanced at the scar. "Best not to dally."

He knew.

I thanked him for the satchel of coin and wasted no further time. He selected a pretty three-quarter hilt rapier from a stand. The pommel was decorated with two hissing snakes. I was grateful for it, and I thanked him, but as I looked at the pommel, I knew he had given this to me because I was a tiefling. The other swords had dragons, a unicorn, decorated like flowing water and seashells. I wasn't so entitled that I thought he should have given me one of the silvered or magical swords; I was disappointed that he gave me one based on my looks, not who I was. Despite that, I smiled and thanked him. A sword with snakes was better than a ruined blade.

The elf wanted my ruined blade, said it made a good artifact for what had happened in Easthaven, and that it would, in fact, be a major event in the town's history, and evidence and artifacts from it would prove inspiring to future generations. I gave it to him. I suppose elves tended to think in centuries. Maybe he wasn't wrong there.

I selected a pale mare from the stables and hurried along the road. I trotted past the place the bandits had been. If they were there, they left me be.