"What will it do to me?"
"Your corporeal substance itself contains memory; it is called instinct. I give you a medicine. It will prompt all your cells to erupt memories - even those very cells which now block your memory. We cannot unlock the doors; but we can batter them open. Do you dare take this draught?"
"Will it kill me?"
"No."
"Will it make me insane?"
"Perhaps not."
"Will I know everything I knew before?"
"Yes. And when you have your memory, you must protect our sanctuary."
Efraim went thoughtfully up the steps.
By the balustrade Singhalissa and Destian stood waiting. Singhalissa asked sharply: "What is that vial?"
"It contains my memory. I need only drink it."
Singhalissa leaned forward, her hands quivered. Efraim moved back. She asked:
"And will you drink it?"
"Naturally."
Singhalissa chewed at her lip. Efraim's vision suddenly seemed totally keen and clear; he noticed the lack of bloom on Singhalissa's skin, the minute wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, the bird-like thrust of her sternum.
"This may seem an odd point of view," said Singhalissa, "but consider. Events go well for you! You are Kaiark; you are about to make trisme with a powerful realm. What else do you need? The contents of the vial may well disturb these conditions!"
Destian spoke with an air of authority: "If I were in your position, I would let well enough alone!"
Singhalissa said: "You had best confer with Kaiark Rianlle; he is a wise man; he will advise you."
"The matter would seem only to concern myself," remarked Efraim. "I doubt if Rianlle's wisdom can apply in this case." He passed into the reception hall, to meet Rianlle coming down the grand staircase. Efraim paused. "I hope you enjoyed your rest."
Rianlle bowed politely. "Very much indeed."
Singhalissa came forward. "I have urged Efraim to solicit your advice in a very important matter. The Fwai-chi have provided him a liquid which they claim will restore his memory."
Rianlle reflected. "Excuse me a moment or two." He took Singhalissa aside; the two conversed in mutters. Rianlle nodded and thoughtfully returned to where Efraim waited.
"While I rested," said Rianlle, "I reviewed the situation which has caused a tension between our realms. I propose that we postpone further consideration of Dwan Jar. Why allow so paltry a matter to interfere with the trisme I have suggested? Am I not correct?"
"Entirely."
"However, I have no confidence in Fwai-chi drugs. Often they promote cerebral lesions. In view of our prospective relationship I must insist that you do not dose yourself with some vile Fwai-chi potion."
Very odd, thought Efraim. If the truncation of his memory were so advantageous to other folk, then the disadvantage to himself would seem correspondingly great. "Let us join the others who await us in the parlor."
Efraim seated himself at the red table and looked around the faces: fourteen Scharde and four Eccord eiodarks; Singhalissa, Destian, Sthelany; Rianlle, the Kraike Dervas, Maerio, and himself. He carefully placed the vial on the table before him.
"There is a new circumstance to be considered," said Efraim. "My memory. It is contained in this bottle. At Port Mar someone robbed me of my memory. I am intensely anxious to learn the identity of this person. Of the folk who were with me in Port Mar, two are dead - by coincidence, or perhaps not coincidentally after all, both were murdered.
"I have been advised not to drink this draught. I am told that it is best to let sleeping dogs lie. Needless to say, I reject this point of view. I want my memory back, no matter what the cost." He unstoppered the vial, raised it to his mouth and poured the contents down his throat. The flavor was soft and earthy, like pounded bark and mold mixed with stump water.
He looked around the circle of faces. "You must forgive this act of ingestion before your very eyes... I feel nothing yet. I would expect a delay while the material permeates my blood, courses around my body... I notice a shifting of lights and shadows - your faces flicker. I must shut my eyes... I see splashes of light: they shatter and burst... I see everywhere in my body . .
. I see with my hands and inside my legs and down my back." Efraim's voice became hoarse. "The sounds - everywhere..." He could speak no more; he leaned back in his chair. He felt, he saw, he heard: a jumble of impressions: whirling suns and dancing stars, the froth of salt spume, the warmth of swamp mud; the dank flavor of waterweeds. The thrust of spears, the scorch of fire, and screaming women. Timelessness: visions swarmed past, then back, then away, like shoals of fish. Efraim became faint; his legs and arms went numb. He fought away the lethargy, and watched in fascination as the first furious explosion of images retreated and swirled away. The succession of sensations continued, but at a pace less blurred, as if to the control of chronology. He began to see faces and hear voices: strange faces, strange voices, of persons inexpressibly dear, and tears ran down his cheeks. He felt the extent of space; he knew the grief of departures, the exultation on conquest; he killed, he was killed; he loved and knew love; he nurtured a thousand families; he knew a thousand deaths, a thousand infancies.
More slowly came the images, as if the source were almost drained. He was the first man to arrive on Marune; he led the tribes east from Port Mar; he was all the Kaiarks of Scharrode and of many other realms as well; he was many of the ordinary folk; he lived all these lives in the course of five seconds.
Time began to decelerate. He watched the construction of Benbuphar Strang; he prowled by mirk; he scaled the Tassenberg and struck a blond warrior toppling down the face of the Khism. He began to see faces to which he could almost put names; he was a tall auburn-haired child who grew into a tall spare man with a bony face and short thick beard. With beating heart Efraim followed this man whose name was Jochaim through the chambers of Benbuphar Strang, by aud, isp, umber, and rowan. By mirk he wandered the mirk-ways, and he felt the intoxication of striding forth, clad only in shoulder-piece, man-mask, and boots into the chamber of his sometimes terrified elect. To Benbuphar Strang came the maiden Alferica from Cloudscape Castle, to be taken in trisme by Jochaim, and in due course a child was born who was named Efraim, and Jochaim faded from consciousness.
Efraim's youth passed. His mother, Alferica, drowned during a visit to Eccord; presently to Benbuphar Strang came a new Kraike, Singhalissa, with her two children. One of these was dark vicious Destian; the other, a pale big-eyed waif, was Sthelany.
Tutors educated the three children; they chose cogences and eruditions. Sthelany professed the writing of poetry in an abstruse poetic language, the working of mothwing tapestry, and star-names, as well as the contriving of fumes and fragrances which all well-born ladies were expected to include among their skills. She also collected Glanzeln flower vases, glazed an ineffable transparent violet, and unicorn horns. Destian collected precious crystals, and replicas of medallions on the hilts of famous swords; he also, professed heraldry and the intricate lore of fanfares. Efraim professed the architecture of castles, mineral identification, and the theory of alloys, although Singhalissa considered the choice insufficiently erudite.
Efraim politely acknowledged Singhalissa's remarks and put them to the back o€ his mind. He was First Kang of the Realm; Singhalissa's opinions need not concern him.
Singhalissa herself professed a dozen skills, didactics, and expertises; she was quite the most erudite person of Efraim's acquaintance. Perhaps once a year she visited Port Mar, that she might buy supplies and materials for the specialized needs of those at Benbuphar Strang. When Efraim learned that Kaiark Rianlle of Eccord, with the Kraike Dervas and the Lissolet Maerio, planned to accompany Jochaim and Singhalissa to Port Mar, he decided to join the party. After considerable discussion, Destian and Sthelany also decided to undertake the journey.