Parry jockeyed for position in the afternoon marketplace. Suddenly it was crowded with adventurers or at least those who looked the type. Prices on dungeon-delving supplies climbed by the hour.

Where did they all come from? he thought, baffled. Just this morning, Baronston had seemed almost sleepy, its commercial district relaxed. Apparently while he had been conversing with Guildmaster Kint, her "efficient" helper Alpin had been all over town talking up the new dungeon. By the time Parry had jumped through the bureaucratic hoops and received his wolf-rank Adventurer's Guild badge (a temporary replacement, just a slip of parchment), word was out and the market was bustling and full of snatched of excited conversation.

Parry overheard: "Is it lit? The lit dungeons are better." This from a woman with short hair, boiled-leather armor and a pretty serious scimitar.

"I think so," her companion tried. "Someone must know something, lanterns and oil are going cheap." He was dwarven but particularly burly, taller than Parry by an inch and unconcerned with the summer sun beating down on his round metal helm. "It's probably lit."

Others were chiming in. "It's a smoothstone, I heard." This from a human in a separate line at the market, apparently waiting to buy dried rations. "Worse for traps, better for sight lines." He hefted his bow, smiling like a predator.

"I prefer roughstone or cave dungeons," the dwarf grumbled. "Admittedly, smoothstones have better treasure, fewer dragons."

"There's dragons?!" A matronly woman walking by stopped in her tracks at the word. "This close to the city?"

"There are no dragons!" came quick reassurance spoken intentionally loudly from the bowman eager to quash any such rumor. "Everyone's just talking shit, no one's been in or out but the Guildmaster and the guard."

Parry kept an ear open for all this but had to concentrate on securing equipment. He was young enough that few took him seriously, preferring to talk over his head (at times literally) to more experienced-looking adventurers who seemed more likely to have ready coin.

Almost an hour later, he'd assembled enough material to hazard Baronston's newest dungeon. He now had food and water, rope, basic tools, emergency medicines and all the little things that keep a body alive in dangerous underground places. He even managed a restorative potion, though it cost dearly.

Soon Parry was walking the road from town along with a string of eager hopefuls, all of whom kept a careful eye the competition.

"If you run you might get be first," urged Styak mentally from inside the memory plane.

"We have no chance of being first, and that's a good thing," the boy thought back. "It's not a race, not for us. We have different goals from everyone else here."

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"I'm surprised you're going at all. You didn't want to. Something has changed."

"It's a clue. It's help from a previous incarnation. It's me."

"What?"

The dungeon had appeared in a glen not far outside Baronston's walls. Already the brush by the side of the road had been trampled into a path. It would soon be a trail, judging by the stream of delvers. Like ants following a line, treasure-seekers made their way from the city gates to the woods.

"You've seen my memories, they're chaos. It's difficult keeping track of my experiences over ten thousand lives, and it becomes almost impossible when each death scrambles them. I can't recall whole lifetimes, groups of lifetimes. Entire sections of my mind get misplaced, walled off or even lost completely. Trauma makes it worse: I have had so many head injuries. Disease can wipe out a lifetime, too, as can magic and poison. I've been an alchemist a hundred times over, but I suspect I've forgotten more about alchemy than I remember, thanks to the fumes."

The kitten managed to harrumph mentally. "That matches what I find in this absurd memory-scape of yours."

"On the other side, there are potions, herbs, mystic items, relics and spells which restore memories, bring them back to order, recover those that were lost and give me quick, easy access to them."

"We need those!"

"It's always the first thing I seek when I reincarnate, since memories are my primary weapon. Sometimes knowing doesn't help. I know a spell right now, to the finest detail, that can enthrall a continent, but I can't cast it: we're thousands of miles from Gormion's Holy Mountain, I'm not Pope, and we're a bit shy of the 616 eunuch-priests I need chant it."

"Right."

"I know there's an amulet that helps memories, but I can't remember what it's called, where it is or how to find it. I do remember it's a lovely shade of pink."

"Right." Sarcastically, this time.

"It gets worse. Memories in isolation can be a real problem. How helpful would it be to recall what that amulet can do without also remembering it bears a terrible curse? Imagine chasing down a half-remembered resource from a dozen lives previous only to discover again that it never properly worked."

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"My usual thought at that moment is, 'Oh yeah.'"

"I would rather not waste time on those."

"Nor I. That's where the clues come in. Every life of struggle I hope will be the last, but I know the odds are against me. I used to keep a journal, you know."

The cat perked. "Wise. You could find it at the start of any lifetime and simply read--"

"Yes, that's what I thought too," Parry interrupted, "but it's not so simple. My enemy controls this world, rewinding it every time I reincarnate. Things change, from my own actions or the Creator's or perhaps at random. The things I 'leave' to myself from previous lives exist in the world and are subject to the Creator's interference. In short, I can't trust them."

There was another uncomfortable silence.

"But my enemy is neither omniscient nor all-powerful. This world and all its planes and realms is huge, and if I'm clever and hide things well, they slip by. It's no sure thing, but I've been able to help myself from past lives. If memory is my second greatest weapon, these remnants are my third."

"Second, third...I suppose I should ask...?"

"My will. We're here."