Chapter Twenty-Three

Fuzzy

Everyone’s forgotten something at some point in their lives. Many have forgotten their keys; some have forgotten where they parked their cars; and a man with a really crooked back and a greasy forehead forgot to meet with me last Tuesday to give me the rest of the notes I needed about Foo. In the eternal scheme of things, his mistake is far more bothersome than simply forgetting where you placed your keys. We had to meet later, in a dark cave where it was hard to see clearly and it strained my eyes to look over the papers he was delivering. Of course, it was so dark that he didn’t notice that I paid him considerably less than agreed upon.

Win-win.

But the worst thing a person can forget is another person or friend. There’s nothing more uncomfortable than meeting people who claim to know you, but you can’t remember a thing about them. Such was the case, and then some, with Winter and Lilly. Lilly had been Winter’s sycophant many years before, and she had been set free when Winter went to Reality. Since then, Winter had lost all memory of her earlier life in Foo and of Lilly, and had no knowledge of how Lilly had become remarkably bitter and destructive.

Now, as Lilly began to see the light, Winter still had no recollection of the small friend she had loved for many years.

Winter held the white sycophant out in front of her and looked her over.

“You look different,” Lilly said. “But the same.”

Winter smiled as if she had been instructed to.

“You don’t remember me at all, do you?” Lilly said softly.

“I don’t,” Winter said sadly. “I’m so sorry.”

Winter was leaning against the trunk of the bare tree on the grassy knoll. Geth, Phoebe, Rast, and Brindle had walked off to give Winter and Lilly some much-needed catching-up time. From where they were now all sitting, it was hard to imagine the rest of Foo falling apart. The weather was cool, and a breeze filled with the scent of tavel wound though the air like a ribbon of caramel. A strong Lore Coil rippled across the scene, announcing the birth of a sycophant named Sunrise.

“I wish I could remember,” Winter said. “It’s maddening sometimes.”

“Don’t worry,” Lilly said submissively. “I remember you.”

“I know I had to set you aside,” Winter said. “Geth told me that. I’m sure I must have been sad about that.”

“I was angry,” Lilly admitted. “And I still don’t understand everything, but I’ve seen now what you were trying to stop. I should have understood how important it was—seeing all those sycophants floating in the water and watching everyone tear apart our land. My anger was misplaced.”

Three huge rovens flew overhead. One was carrying a large trunk in its talons and the other two were screaming at each other.

“So you’re my sycophant?”

Lilly bowed. “You’ll get used to me again. Having a sycophant can be an adjustment, but we’re made to make things better.”

“You know, it’s weird,” Winter smiled. “I’ve kind of always felt like I had a sycophant because of Clover.”

“Clover?” Lilly asked, the hair on the back of her neck sticking up.

“Leven’s sycophant.”

“Leven’s sycophant is named Clover?”

Winter nodded.

“You could leave me,” Lilly said. “I realize now how wrong I was. I have thought of nobody but myself, while you did just the opposite.”

“You know, there have been moments . . .” Winter smiled.

“Moments?” Lilly asked.

“Where I thought it would have been nice to have my own sycophant,” Winter admitted. “And a girl one at that.”

Lilly’s pink eyes widened to the size of pool balls.

“I mean, I love Clover,” Winter said. “But his taste in . . . well, just about everything is pretty much the opposite of mine.”

“You mean it?” Lilly asked.

“I guess I do,” Winter replied. “But—you know I’m going to Reality. It’s not your responsibility to go with me.”

“I’d love to make up some time,” Lilly begged. “It scares me, though.”

“Really?” Winter asked.

“Foo was not meant to mix with Reality,” Lilly said soberly. “My people were supposed to be the last and final stand.”

“I think somehow you and I were involved in giving them the key,” Winter said.

“I was,” Lilly admitted. “I took it to punish everyone.”

“I was told I buried it to hide it from you,” Winter informed her. “Then Leven found it. So let’s just say it’s Leven’s fault.”

Lilly let out a sigh four times bigger than her actual body. “Thanks, Winter.”

“You know, I’ll probably call you Clover by accident a lot,” Winter informed her.

“Sycophants are not supposed to grow attached to their names anyhow.”

Winter reached out, and Lilly jumped onto her arm. “You’re lighter than Clover.”

“What a nice thing to say,” Lilly smiled. She then flipped up the hood of her small white robe and disappeared.

“Should we get Geth?” Winter asked.

Lilly giggled.

“And Phoebe?” Winter added.

“I guess, but what’s with those two?” Lilly asked.

“I know, tell me about it.”

Winter smiled.