Occasionally the drug did not bring me Anotine, but instead Below or the Doctor or Misrix materialized to torture me with recriminations of one sort or another. One night, after having just made love to Anotine in my bed, I heard something creeping around the door of my house. The moment I leaped up, she vanished. I was suddenly frightened, thinking that someone had come to take the last of my store of the beauty. I knew that by this time, the entire village must be out of its mind, swinging between elation and craving. It was more than conceivable that someone would be willing to kill for a drop or two of the drug.
I fetched my stone knife, and creeping over to the door, swung it open quickly. There, sitting before me, was the black dog, Wood. When he saw me, he barked once, then trotted past me into the room. His ear had been torn off and there were nasty-looking wounds that had healed on his right shoulder. At first, the sight of him frightened me, as if he was a ghost. Then, he walked over to where I stood trembling, reared up on his hind legs, and threw himself against my chest. I put my arms around him and petted his fur. I had dried, salted meat in my pantry, and I gave him a huge plate of it. He sat at my feet as I opened another vial of the beauty and took five drops. Anotine returned, and I told her all about the courage of the dog. When the sunrise turned the sky red out on the horizon, she vanished, but Wood remained. As the days passed, it became evident that he had really survived our ordeal on the fields of Harakun.
Semla Hood came to visit me one afternoon just after I had taken the drops. I saw her approaching out the window, but when she knocked, I tried to pretend I wasn't in. To my horror, she was not put off by my silence, but opened the door and stepped into the house. The minute she saw me, she shook her head.
"I came to you for help, Cley, but I can see you are no better off than the others."
"I'm sorry," was the best I could do.
"That cure you brought has turned Wenau into a living hell," she said. "There is thieving and there have been two murders over that witches' brew. Men and women are acting like children, and there are children who sit all day drooling, staring at the sun."
I shook my head.
"There are a few of us who are trying to restore things to normal, but it seems impossible. You brought my husband back to me, but now I have lost him again."
"What can I do?" I said. "I'm tired."
"Well, I just wanted to tell you that Jensen Watt drowned yesterday, chasing a beautiful angel into the river."
"You will have to leave," I said to her, because I could see Anotine materializing in the kitchen. I turned away and heard the door slam behind me.
That night Wood woke me with his barking. I rolled out of bed and grabbed the stone knife. Crouching behind my chair, I waited to see if I was being robbed. There came a knocking at the door.
"Who is it?" I called.
The dog growled.
"It's me," said a deep voice.
"Go away," I said. "I have a knife."
The door suddenly burst open with so much force, I fell back onto my rear end. The demon stepped through the entrance. His eyes burned with a yellow fire, and his tail was snapping the air. I put my hands up to protect myself as he came forward. He reached down with a massive hand, and his claws passed right through the material of my shirt without cutting my chest. Lifting me off the ground, he said, "I've been watching you, Cley," and with this, backhanded me into unconsciousness for the third time.
I woke the next morning tied to the posts of my bed and saw Misrix standing by the table across the room. He was lifting the remaining vials one by one out of the crate before him and crushing them in his hands.
"It's time to wake up," he said.
The withdrawal nearly killed me. It took a solid week before I could get out of bed and move around on my own. I can't bring myself to tell you the depths to which I sank in the midst of my craving. The pain was so intense I thought my head would split open. There were entire days of shivering and sweating and endless tears. I derided the demon with the worst curses and disparagements my insane mind could conjure. I told him he was responsible for his father's death, and that he was nothing but an animal who had been tricked into thinking he was human. Through it all, Misrix's only reaction was to laugh. He made me soups out of plants he gathered in the forest while I was sleeping. Wood and he became fast friends as they watched over my return to life.
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.