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I moved about the perimeter of the first floor, among the memorial biers placed along the wall. Unfortunately, Dhall's directions were of little use, since I had no idea which way was northwest. I studied the name on each bier as I came to it, hoping one would trigger a memory, carefully staying far away from any other Dustmen.
I came to a bier with a plaque which read, "Here lies Deionarra."
Shockingly, an insubstantial phantasm of a woman appeared before the bier. A strikingly beautiful ghostly form, her arms crossed, her eyes closed. She had long, flowing hair, and her gown seemed stirred by some ethereal breeze. I realized I had seen her before. This ghost had appeared in my dream before I awoke in the Mortuary. As I watched, she stirred slightly, and her eyes flickered.
Her eyes slowly opened, and she blinked in confusion for a moment, as if uncertain where she was. She looked around slowly, then saw me. Her tranquil face suddenly twisted into a snarl.
"You! What is it that brings *you* here?! Have you come to see first-hand the misery you have wrought? Perhaps in death I still hold some shred of use for you...?" Her voice dropped to a hiss. "...'my Love.'"
Surprised by her venom, I plaintively asked, "Who are you?" In a sudden change of emotion, the spirit made a begging motion with her hands.
"How can it be that the thieves of the mind continue to steal my name from your memory? Do you not *remember* me, my Love?" The ghost stretched out her arms. "Think..." Her voice became desperate again. "...the name *Deionarra* must evoke some memory within you."
"I *think* I feel the stirrings of memory... tell me more. Perhaps your words shall chase the shadows from my mind, Deionarra."
"Oh, at last the fates show mercy! Even death cannot chase me from your mind, my Love! Do you not see? Your memories shall return! Tell me how I can help you, and I shall!" There was one main question on my mind.
"Do you know who I am?"
"You are one both blessed and cursed, my Love. And you are one who is never far from my thoughts and heart."
"'Blessed and cursed?' What do you mean?"
"The nature of your curse should be apparent, my Love. Look at you." She pointed at me. "Death rejects you. Your memories have abandoned you. Do you not pause and wonder why?"
"Memories aside... and assuming death has rejected me... why is that a curse?"
"I do not doubt your ability to rise from the dead. I do believe that every incarnation weakens your thoughts and memories. You claim you have lost your memory. Perhaps it is a side effect of countless deaths? If so, what more will you lose in successive deaths? If you lose your mind, you will not even know enough to realize that you cannot die. You shall truly be doomed." I wondered how many times I had awoken in this Mortuary.
"'Countless deaths?' How long has this been going on?"
"I do not truly know. Except that it has gone on long enough."
"What else can you tell me about myself?"
"I know that you once claimed you loved me and that you would love me until death claimed us both. I believed that, never knowing the truth of who you were, what you were."
"And what am I?"
"You... I... cannot..." She suddenly froze, and spoke slowly, carefully, as if her voice frightened her. "The truth is this: you are one who dies many deaths. These deaths have given the knowing of all things mortal, and in your hand lies the spark of life... and death. Those that die near you carry a trace of themselves that you can bring forth..."
As Deionarra spoke the words, a crawling sensation welled up in the back of my skull... I suddenly felt compelled to look at my hand. As I lifted it up, *looked* at it, I could SEE the blood coursing sluggishly through my arm, pouring into my muscles, and in turn, giving strength to my bones...
And I knew Deionarra was *right.* I suddenly remembered how to coax the dimmest spark of life from a body, and bring it forth... the thought both horrified and intrigued me.
"Can you tell me where I am?" I asked.
"Where are you? Why, you are here with me, my Love... as in the times when life was something both of us shared. Now it is the Eternal Boundary that separates us."
"'Eternal Boundary?'"
Deionarra sounded saddened. "It is a barrier I fear you shall never cross, my Love. It is the barrier between your life and what remains of mine..."
As I was about to ask Deionarra about escaping this place, it caught in my throat. It occurred to me that if I told her I was looking for an escape route, she might feel I was abandoning her. I needed to be delicate about it.
"Deionarra, I am in danger. Can you guide me to a place of safety? I shall return as soon as I can to speak to you again."
"In danger?" Deionarra looked concerned. "Of course, my Love. I will aid you any way I can..." She closed her eyes for a moment, and I watched an ethereal zephyr pass through her body, stirring her hair. After a moment, the zephyr died, and her eyes slowly opened. "Perhaps there is a way." She stared about her, as if seeking out hidden enemies.
"I sense that this place holds many doors shrouded from mortal eyes. Perhaps you could use one of these portals as a means of escape. Portals are holes in existence, leading to destinations in the inner and outer planes... if you could find the proper key, you could escape through one of them." Deionarra paused for a moment, as if attempting to remember.
"Portals will reveal themselves when you have the proper 'key.' Unfortunately, these keys can be almost anything... an emotion, a piece of wood, a dagger of silvered glass, a scrap of cloth, a tune you hum to yourself... I fear that the Dustmen are the only ones who would know the keys you could use to leave their halls, my Love."
"Then I shall ask one of them. Farewell, Deionarra." I turned away, too overcome with emotion to continue talking to the spirit. Deionarra spoke again before I could move away.
"Hold a moment... I learned much when I traveled with you, my Love, and what you have lost, I have retained. I have not divulged all that I know to you. My sight is clear... whilst you fumble in the darkness for a spark of thought."
"And what is it your sight sees that I do not?" I asked.
"Time itself relaxes its hold as the chill of oblivion slowly claims us, my Love. Glimpses of things yet to come swarm across my vision. I see you, my Love. I see you as you are now, and..." Deionarra grew quiet. I felt apprehension, but the desire to know what she saw was stronger.
"What is it? What do you see?"
"I see what lies ahead for you. It ripples through the planes, stemming outward from this point. Shall I speak of what I see?"
"Tell me."
"First, I require a promise. Promise you will return. That you will find some means to save me or join me."
"I swear I will find some means to save you or join you." I didn't know what impulse had triggered this statement, but I did know I would be forced to attempt to fulfill my promise.
"This is what my eyes see, my Love, unfettered by the shackles of time..."
"You shall meet enemies three, but none more dangerous than yourself in your full glory. They are shades of evil, of good, and of neutrality given life and twisted by the laws of the planes."
"You shall come to a prison built of regrets and sorrow, where the shadows themselves have gone mad. There you will be asked to make a terrible sacrifice, my Love. For the matter to be laid to rest, you must destroy that which keeps you alive and be immortal no longer."
"'Destroy what keeps me alive?'" I asked.
"I know that you must die... while you still can. The circle *must* come to a close, my Love. You were not meant for this life. You must find that which was taken from you and travel beyond, into the lands of the dead."
"I shall wait for you in death's halls, my Love." She smiled, but there was only sadness in it. She closed her eyes, and with an ethereal whisper, she faded.
I turned away from Deionarra's bier, still stunned at what I had promised. Morte asked a question, in a concerned voice.
"You back with me, chief? You kind of drifted out on me there."
"No, I'm fine. Do you know who that spirit was?" Morte was puzzled.
"Eh? Spirit?"
"That specter I was talking to. The woman."
"You were rattling your bone-box with some woman? Where?" Morte looked around, excited. "What did she look like?"
"She was right on top of the bier. Didn't you see her? "
"Eh... no, you just kind of drifted out for a bit there, just stood there, statue-like. I was a little worried you'd gone addled on me again."
"I'm all right. Let's move on."
I continued moving along the perimeter of the Mortuary. Too bad I didn't have any idea where any of these 'portals' Deionarra had mentioned could be.
However, I did see something ahead almost as good. Doors, which most likely led outside. Hoping I wouldn't find them locked, I moved towards them. Unfortunately, another damned Dustman had approached on silent feet, and was too close for me to pretend I didn't see him.
He was a tired-looking man in a black robe. His narrow face was extremely pale, and he didn't look as if he had been sleeping: his shoulders were slumped, and the flesh sagged loosely beneath his bloodshot eyes. He looked so lost in thought he might not even have noticed me, but I couldn't count on that.
"Greetings…"
"Greetings..." The man turned to face me and made a slight bow. I suddenly noticed that his eyes weren't bloodshot so much as they had a red tinge to them. "I am Soego. How may I..." He suddenly seemed to notice my scars, and the corner of his mouth twitched. "I'm sorry, sirrah, are you lost?"
"No."
"I do not recall admitting you." Soego looked at me suspiciously, and his eyes gleamed red in the light of the torches. "May I ask what you are doing here?"
"I was here for an internment, but there seems to have been a mistake."
"Who was being interred? Perhaps the services are taking place somewhere else in the Mortuary."
"The name is... uh, Adahn." The lie came easier this time. Soego's eyes narrowed, and the red tinge I saw in them before seemed more pronounced.
"No one of that name resides within the Mortuary halls, living or dead." His mouth twitched, and to my surprise, he sniffed the air for a moment.
"Uh... then I must have misspoke." I silently cursed myself for using that name. Of course the Dustmen would know the names of their dead. I floundered, came up with another excuse, "I am here to see Dhall."
"Dhall? Dhall the Scrivener can be found in the receiving room on the upper floor." The corner of Soego's mouth twitched briefly. "He is rather busy and his health is failing. Unless you have pressing business, I would not disturb him."
"What's wrong with Dhall?"
"Oh, there is nothing wrong with him. Dhall is..." Soego clicked his teeth. "...*old.* His long devotion to cataloging the dead has nearly run its course. Death will no doubt soon follow the wasting sickness he has contracted."
"You know, I could do this another time. Can you let me out now?" Soego nodded, and the corner of his mouth twitched.
"Why... of course, of course. Let me open the front gate for you." He moved to the doors, and unlocked them. I had the strong feeling that he knew I was lying, but for reasons of his own he didn't want to expose me, or didn't care what I did. I hurried to leave the building.
A slab in the Mortuary, where a short time before the corpse of an immortal lay. The flickering light in the room cast moving shadows. A careful observer might have noted that certain shadows didn't obey the motion of the light, but moved on their own, as if driven by a malign intelligence. The shadows moved about the slab for a few moments, as if questing. Then all was as before; the only shadows present were those caused by the simple blockage by objects of the light.
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