PROLOGUE
TheUnremembered
Iawakeeverymorningwithinkonmyhands.SometimesIamsprawled,face
down,onmyworktable,amidstawelterofscrollsandpapers.Myboy,when
hecomesinwithmytray,maydaretochidemefornottakingmyselfoffto
bedthenightbefore.Butsometimeshelooksatmyfaceandventuresnoword.
IdonottrytoexplaintohimwhyIdoasIdo.Itisnotasecretonecangive
toayoungerman;itisonehemustearnandlearnonhisown.
Amanhastohaveapurposeinlife.Iknowthisnow,butittookmethefirst
scoreyearsofmylifetolearnit.InthatIscarcelythinkmyselfunique.Still,it
isalessonthat,oncelearned,hasremainedwithme.So,withlittlebesides
paintooccupymyselfthesedays,Ihavesoughtoutapurposeformyself.I
haveturnedtoataskthatbothLadyPatienceandScribeFedwrenhadlong
agoadvocated.Ibeganthesepagesasanefforttowritedownacoherent
historyoftheSixDuchies.ButIfounditdifficulttokeepmymindlongfixed
onasingletopic,andsoIdistractmyselfwithlessertreatises,onmytheories
ofmagic,onmyobservationsofpoliticalstructures,andmyreflectionson
othercultures.WhenthediscomfortisatitsworstandIcannotsortmyown
thoughtswellenoughtowritethemdown,Iworkontranslations,orattempt
tomakealegiblerecordingofolderdocuments.Ibusymyhandsinthehope
ofdistractingmymind.
MywritingservesmeasVerity’smapmakingonceservedhim.Thedetail
oftheworkandtheconcentrationrequiredisalmostenoughtomakeone
forgetboththelongingsoftheaddiction,andtheresidualpainsofhaving
onceindulgedit.Onecanbecomelostinsuchwork,andforgetoneself.Or
onecangoevendeeper,andfindmanyrecollectionsofthatself.Alltoooften,
IfindIhavewanderedfarfromahistoryoftheduchiesintoahistoryof
FitzChivalry.ThoserecollectionsleavemefacetofacewithwhoIoncewas,
andwhoIhavebecome.
Whenoneisdeeplyabsorbedinsucharecounting,itissurprisinghow
muchdetailonecanrecall.NotallthememoriesIsummonuparepainful.I
havehadmorethanajustshareofgoodfriends,andfoundthemmoreloyal
thanIhadanyrighttoexpect.Ihaveknownbeautiesandjoysthattriedmy
heart’sstrengthassurelyasthetragediesanduglinesseshave.YetIpossess,
perhaps,agreatershareofdarkmemoriesthanmostmen;fewmenhave
knowndeathinadungeon,orcanrecalltheinsideofacoffinburiedbeneath
thesnow.Themindshiesawayfromthedetailsofsuchthings.Itisonething
torecallthatRegalkilledme.Itisanothertofocusonthedetailsofthedays
andnightsenduredashestarvedmeandthenhadmebeatentodeath.WhenI