Link 3: Ignorance A man opened his eyes to the familiar sight of a grey stone ceiling, dimly lit by a faint, flickering glow. Panic gripped him for a moment, causing him to bolt upright in the bed. As quickly as it had taken him, however, the panic faded. He remained cautious, but he could not divine the cause of his initial terror.
Now that he was sitting up in the bed, he could see that he was in a small, simply furnished room. He was sitting on a bed against the wall furthest from the chamber’s only door. The cushion he was resting on was kept off the floor on a stout wooden frame, not particularly tall but high enough for the bed’s occupant to reach anything atop the adjacent table. On the table itself was a single guttering candle that provided the room’s only illumination. There was a small pack sitting behind the candlestick, likely belonging to the girl in the chair at the foot of his bed. She seemed to have been asleep until recently, and she looked at him only a moment before he first noticed her. “Lois?” His ear twitched at her voice. It took him a moment before he realized that she was talking to him. “Lois…” The sound of his voice seemed odd, like his tongue and teeth would not cooperate the way he was used to. In fact, as he felt about the inside of his mouth, he realized that everything felt wrong. First, there was far more space in his mouth than should have been possible, second, and more alarming to him, his teeth were all sharp and predatory. The panic returned in a moment as he raised his hands before his face, finding that they were now covered by white fur on the backs and strange black pads on his palms and fingers. Those fingers were shorter than he remembered, certainly capable of grasping and manipulating objects but still significantly reduced in their flexibility. His left palm featured a tangle of ugly scars whose source he could not recall. In blind terror, the man threw himself of the bed, unable to the extent of the unexpected changes due to the robe that hung to the floor as he stood. He looked about the room, hoping in vain to find a mirror. “What’s wrong?” the girl asked. She stood quickly and walked beside him, trying to make eye contact even as he glanced around erratically. “What happened to me?” he asked. His voice still seemed odd, but at least the foreign feelings did not keep him from being able to speak intelligibly. “A lutin shaman cast a spell on you to increase the effects of the Curse. It took us two days to discover how to change you back. Are you all right?” The ermine turned to face her finally, gasping for breath in his desperation. Seeing her face, however, he came up short. There was a moment of confusion, and then a flash of recognition lit the man’s face. “Lucy,” he said simply. “Lucy, you’re a mage! Tell me, why am I some sort of animal?” This plea brought the girl up short. She looked at him incredulously for a moment, but a realization slowly dawned in her eyes. “You don’t remember?” The ermine shook his head, his eyes pleading with her to explain his unexpected change of form. He continued to watch her, even as she stepped back and walked a small semicircle back around the room, silently trying to explain the happening to herself. “What is the last thing you recall?” she asked slowly. It was beginning to dawn on her that the man they had rescued was an assassin. If he had forgotten enough to be terrified to find himself turned into an ermine, could that mean that he had likewise forgotten his decision to give up his former employment? The ermine tried to recall, looking about as if the walls could present the answer he sought. His eyes darted about for a few moments, until he finally shook his head in frustration. “I don’t know,” he admitted, returning his gaze to the mage standing before him. “I remember, people, places… I remember events, but I cannot remember if I was ever there or if I simply heard of them from someone else. I remember you; I remember I met you after I came to Metamor to live…” He stopped, his eyes again darting for the ceiling. “Metamor,” he mumbled. “Why is Metamor Keep important?” Lucy prompted. “I came to Metamor because… Because it was home? No, I had only visited it once before. How could it be my home?” He grunted, clasping a fist to either side of his head. “Why can’t I remember?” His voice carried a very genuine degree of desperation. Lucy rubbed her chin as she considered the same question. “It must have been the spell somehow.” She winced. “Did we take too long?” “There has to be something you can do to help me,” Lois demanded. As Lucy’s expression turned sour, he groaned again and paced around her. He drove a fist into the nearby tabletop, making the candlestick jump and wobble briefly, which earned a cautious glance from Lucy. As it settled, she returned to her considerations. “Do you recall who you are?” she asked after some time. Lois hesitated for a moment, but he nodded slowly. “I do not recall everything, but I think I know enough. I am Vincent Lois. I am a patrolman for Metamor Keep. I have not been here long – but everything before coming here is a blur.” He winced. “No, not a blur, I can’t seem to pick out any details at all.” Lucy was cautious about taking him at his word without question, but he seemed sincere enough. He seemed lost, his eyes glancing about at nothing as he tried to find hint of the memories that continued to elude him. His breathing was erratic, and he occasionally hissed something incomprehensible under his breath. The clear stress in his face and his voice made it hard to even consider duplicity on his part. The youthful mage made her way over to the bedside table, taking the pack and browsing briefly through it until she found a small book with soft leather binding. The first few dozen pages were occupied by a rather eclectic combination of nature sketches, annotated magical diagrams, and indecipherable lists that seemed to combine necessities that she intended to buy at market and snide notes to self. The mage flipped past those pages silently until she reached a blank sheet. “Do you think you can still write?” she asked. She gave Lois a small charcoal pencil, and watched as he looked at the blank page. It took him a few moments, but he slowly began to sketch a few letters, and before long the letters had formed an intelligible, if uninteresting, sentence. “I have not forgotten my letters,” he confirmed, looking at his work. Lucy smiled. “Good. Based on what I have observed, you seem to have quite a few memories,” she noted. “I would suppose that the best thing for you would be to write down what you can remember, and try to remember details about each particular thing. Memories exist as a chain, with each one connected to the last. If you can find those connections, you should be able to reconstruct much of what you have forgotten.” Lois looked skeptical, but he nodded. “What will you be doing?” he asked. “I need to tell the others that you have regained consciousness. When we first broke the spell, you acted strangely. They will be happy to hear that you recovered somewhat.” She started towards the door, but hesitated. “Do you remember anything about what you said then?” she asked. The ermine shut his eyes and grimaced. “I don’t recall anything beyond my first few days within the walls.” He glanced at one of his hands. “Until I noticed that something felt odd, I did not even recall being Cursed. I remembered you, though, and we did not meet until after the Keep’s curse changed my form. Are you sure that memories are like a chain? How would I remember the one and not the other?” Lucy gave a smirk. “I said it was a chain; I did not say that the chain was linked in a logical order. A memory from your earliest years may connect to something very recent. The links are caused by emotions and senses, not necessarily in succession of time.” Lois nodded quietly. “I still cannot recall any details of regaining consciousness earlier,” he admitted. “I am sorry.” “Don’t worry about it,” Lucy replied. “Once you have recovered your memories, I am certain that this mystery will be revealed as well.” She opened the door and stepped out slowly, even as Lois sat on the edge of the bed and began to look at the paper before him. He tried to think of someplace to start, even as the door closed and left him in the dark chamber alone. After a few moments of thought, he put the pencil to the sheet of paper and wrote a question. “Who is Vincent Lois?” * * * Lucy was not, of course, so convinced of Lois’ harmlessness that she left him without summoning someone else to guard the room. Thankfully, the combination of her bond to Julian and her magical talent made that simple. The moondog had soon arrived, his face curious as he approached. “Has he moved?” he asked before she could greet him. She nodded. “He awoke not five minutes ago. He has shown no violence towards me, but his confusion is certainly still present. He claims to have lost his memory, and I cannot dispute that claim from what he has said. It seems that only fractured remnants of his memories remain, and he has shown some confusion about what is reality and what is fiction. “I wish to tell the others of this development. Would you be able to guard him in the interim?” The moondog glanced at the door before looking back at her. “Is it safe?” “He does not seem to recall enough of his past to be a threat, and even if he secretly does remember some things, he is nonetheless unarmed. Based on the abilities that you have shown on the battlefield since our acquaintance, I have no doubt that you will have little trouble with him.” He nodded, stepping up to place his back against the door as she stepped away. After a few steps, however, she turned back. “Julian?” His ears perked and he looked at her inquisitively. “Do not be too quick to trust.” He nodded resolutely. “Do not worry. I will make certain that he does not escape.” Lucy considered reminding him that Lois was their fellow patrolman, not a prisoner, but she quickly realized that the truth was otherwise. The events of the past few days cast serious doubt on everything they had learned about the man. He could very well have returned to being the assassin that Andwyn had feared he was when he arrived. Dismissing both the thought and the reprimand she had been considering, Lucy struck out into the halls to find her companions. The search was mercifully short; without the present need to find a solution to an unknown spell cast on a friend, the members of both patrols had returned to their sleeping quarters in the common bedding area. While she briefly considered informing only Alex of the development, she realized without much additional consideration that Balrog had been far more involved in their success that the lynx had been. The lutin and his commanding officer deserved to be informed as much as anyone. While the sleeping area was very nearly empty with the departure of so many patrols in the wake of the plague, Lucy still led them all back to the room where they had cast the spell to rescue Lois. The fire was long since extinguished, but she did not intend to spend much time within. The youthful mage magically lit the sconces that were present to illuminate the room before turning to face her fellows. “Lois has regained consciousness,” she announced simply. “You brought us all the way here just to tell us that?” Alex asked. His tone was easy to identify; he did not actually think that she had taken such unnecessary measures for such a simple announcement. He was simply driving her more rapidly towards the real news. The effect was immediate. “Lois claims that he has lost his memory.” She forestalled questions with a raised hand. “I spoke to him about it, and he clearly can remember some things, but even those are confused.” She briefly recounted her conversation with the Cursed ermine, noting at the end that she had taken the precaution of leaving Julian with Lois. The others in the room remained in contemplative silence for a few moments, until Balrog finally spoke. “I understand your concern. While I call myself his friend, Lois himself has frequently admitted that his past was hardly admirable. Still, isn’t it his past that was forgotten? Wouldn’t that make him less dangerous?” Lucy shook her head. “Perhaps, but we cannot assume either that he truly has lost his memory, or that he has lost only the dangerous portions thereof,” she explained. “He clearly remembers some things, but others are muddled. I have asked him to try to sort it out as much as he can, but we need to find a way to help him.” “I may be alone in this sentiment, but why are we even talking about helping him?” The man speaking was Nathan, who had taken up the position nearest the door. His tail bobbed back and forth in agitation as he looked for reactions on the faces of the others. “I think that everyone here is aware of his past sins; what is wrong with him simply forgetting them? It may take some time to adjust, and there is always the threat of his memory returning, but it may very well make him worthier of confidence than he has ever been before.” Lucy scowled at him. “I cannot justify that,” she declared angrily. “Memories define us. If we leave him as he is, we are as good as accomplices to the person who destroyed the man he was.” “And that is a bad thing?” “Yes!” Lucy, despite her stature, always projected very well, and she took full advantage of this ability as she strode confidently towards the wolf. “It is not for us to dispense justice at all, let alone by killing a man by our inaction.” “It is not that severe!” Nathan insisted. “If you forgot who you were and we made no effort to recover that memory, would you say the same? If the Keep had the same morals that you do, the mages could simply collect fetish stones and use them on anyone they disliked for any reason. I would not wish that on the worst murderer. Punishment is worth nothing if it revokes all memory of the crime.” Nathan glowered at her coldly, but he resigned his argument with a wordless huff and a wave of his paw. Balrog looked none too pleased with his commander’s suggestion, but he was not about to challenge him. Alex’s gaze, as severe as always, darted between the two debating Keepers once more, but any thoughts that he might have held privately remained private as he returned the discussion to its original focus. “Is there any way you propose that we might be able to help him remember?” he asked. Lucy shrugged. “The difficulty with a man losing his memory is always the lack of a consistent method that might lead to its recovery.” She paused a moment; it seemed that she was still regaining her composure from her heated spat with Nathan. “One possible saving grace is the fact that he does remember some small things. Memories are connected, and only rarely are those connections completely dissolved, even in the most severe circumstances. If he can discover those connections, he might very well be able to reconstruct all of his most vital memories through little more than concentrated consideration.” “What is our task, then?” Alex asked. Lucy looked at Balrog. “Few of us have known him for very long, but you say that you have known him for years?” The lutin nodded. “Should I help him recall memories from when he knew me?” he asked. “Yes, but be careful,” the diminutive mage responded. “If you simply tell him of things that happened, the memory will have no connections. It would be like setting a board on the waters of a river, hoping to build a bridge around it. It will be quickly washed away and leave you exactly where you started.” Balrog frowned. “So I must try to help him discover the connections?” Lucy nodded. “It may be time-consuming and frustrating, but I see no other way. If there were some way to restore memories with magic I would gladly make the attempt, but I have heard of no such thing. We must take the long, hard road to success here.” “What if he remembers his years as an assassin?” Nathan asked coldly. Lucy’s glare was enough to show her displeasure in his question, but even she realized that it was something that they needed to discuss before it became a problem. “We are all warriors of one stripe or another, and he is unarmed. If he becomes violent and suspicious we should protect ourselves, but we should try to take care that we do not harm him regardless.” She thought for a few moments before adding one more thing. “To that end, it is probably a good idea to have a mage on hand at all times, to make subduing him easier.” “Since it seems that my task is the most vital to begin with, I will take that responsibility first,” Balrog replied. Lucy held up a hand. “I have no problem with you being the first to speak with him, but I believe that it will be best if we all have a few moments to speak with him. He has known most of us for at least a brief period, and I hope that seeing us together will help him to make some immediate progress.” There was no argument from the others in the room, even though Nathan clearly wanted to say something. Lucy stared him down for a few brief moments to make certain that he never did. Once she was certain that he would not dare her anger again, she turned back to the others. “Does anyone have any other questions?” she asked. The only response was a few shrugs and shakes of the head. “Very well; we should probably go see him then. The sooner we start, the sooner we can make some progress.” When no one presented any argument, Lucy led the way as they went through the halls towards the room where Lois now rested. Nathan hung back, his thoughts weighing on him heavily. He had never been an acquaintance of Lois, but the thought of helping an assassin when they could as easily do away with the danger irked him. Still, he could not fight the arguments that had been brought against him, even if he was certain that they were wrong. Shaking his head, he quietly told Balrog that he had somewhere else to be, and stepped out of the procession to attend to other things. --- This email has been checked for viruses by Avast antivirus software. https://www.avast.com/antivirus
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