Styak kept interrupting Parry's negotiations.

"You'll want to see this."

"Do you mind? I'm haggling."

"It's important."

"It's a memory, it'll be there after I convert this gold to coins."

The money changer had sensed opportunity: there was no chance a lone teenager (oddly dressed in white) understood the value of so much pure gold dust. Parry knew he had no leverage and walked away with less than he'd hoped. Even so, gold is gold, it was a windfall.

"This memory could be key to the future," Styak pestered.

"Later. I'm replacing my gear."

Everything Parry owned had been made holy by power of the Word of Consecration, cloth and leather were now a blazing white, while anything metal had transmuted into white gold. During the walk up from Fishmouth, he took the time to shave it all to dust, as it would have been difficult to explain white gold "coppers," "silver pieces," pack clips or belt buckles. Thankfully, nothing deep in Parry's enchanted pack or quiver had transformed: he had precious little use for soft white gold arrowheads or shaper's tools.

In the end he replaced almost all his external gear, keeping only his boots. In an emergency, he could pry out the white gold hob nails and eyelets. With his newfound wealth, he indulged in a mid-brimmed leather cap, handy for keeping the sun from his eyes and concealing his white hair.

Another luxury: he took a private room on the second floor of a small inn. If his demon familiar wanted to talk, roommates were out of the question.

"Alright, Styak, what did you find?"

The calico kitten hopped to the bed--yes, an actual bed, quite an upgrade from a cot--and watched the boy unpack.

"A complete memory full of useful information, set in a definite place and time involving important people, including their names. And it's from the future!" As it hadn't consumed the memory spark, Styak could direct Parry so he could relive it.

"Aidi I remember. That was a short life, but a critical one for gathering intelligence. It took real cunning to gain such permanent and intimate access to the Imperial Princess."

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"How did you manage it?" Styak marveled.

Parry talked while trying on his new breeches. "It wasn't terribly difficult for the world's smartest horse. The moment I entered the Imperial equestrian service I could pick my post, so to speak." A small frown. "I never liked the name. 'Quibble'? Honestly."

"The Year of the Perch begins in two and a half years. Surely we can capitalize on this foreknowledge."

"It's a good point to have in our pocket, Styak, well done. If we made a beeline for the city of Terryp proper, we could stop that conflict or escalate it. I know the players, even that awful 'Sir Obin,' who would do the world a favor by overdosing later that year. But we need a plan before charging in with changes."

The cat licked its paw. "What is the plan, then?"

"Allies."

"Pardon?"

Parry stood facing the demon. "This incarnation is different. In only a few weeks, I've acquired a demon familiar and unlocked three classes with three entirely different kinds of magic. I'm neither an apprentice nor a student nor a noble, my family is small and requires no support, and I'm not locked into a term of service with any military. This is rare freedom for a young human, it's left me feeling lucky, over-eager, perhaps overconfident."

He thought a moment then spoke some difficult words. "I'm still thinking like Overlord Parry, but I don't have overwhelming power, armies or magics at my command. I'm trying to do everything myself, and that wasn't enough even when I did rule half this continent. In the end, when I face the Creator, I've always done it alone, and I always doubt I have enough power to win."

Parry felt strangely vulnerable. "The Lord of Wings accused me of treating everyone and everything like a resource, and he was right. It's easier to avoid attachment when you know your whole world is a game. That keeps me sane even if it means lying to everyone I encounter, the husbands and wives and children and friends I loved and the enemies I've fought over countless lives. How can explain I the truth of this world? Who would believe me, and what would be the point?"

"So?"

That brought a smile. "Exactly. The Lord of Wings holds me in contempt because of how I treat everyone whether or not they're 'real.' Even you, delving and swimming in my memories, brushing up against the truth, you're not...not..." He ran out of words, looking helplessly at the cat.

"Concerned? Hardly. My hates are mine, and I have a lot of hate for the bastards who banished me. I don't care if you think they're real. I have vengeance to plot and plans for the aftermath."

"Aren't you demoralized? Knowing the truth?"

A cat shrug. "If that's truth, I'll waste no time on it. I have goals."

"I've never let anyone share my goals. I think that's the problem. In the end, I'm always alone. I wonder if I have to be."

There was a moment of silence.

"Would you help me, Styak? Destroy the Creator?"

The kitten smiled. "As long as you die thereafter, I'm all for it."

"Well, then I suppose you're my first ally. Let's get more."