The meditation on a memory begins...

As part of his training in magery as a youth, he had been taught that all memories – and many unconsciously stored details that were observed, but not remembered under normal circumstances - could be revisited in full if the correct level of consciousness and the proper techniques were observed. Experiences from childhood were particularly vibrant and particular, but he reasoned that with his fascination of the event, there should be just enough to piece any observed ritual together. Focusing lightly on the task at hand, he began to clear his mind of all extraneous thought and external sensations. Soon the dripping, scuttling and breathing faded back into unimportance, and his mind began to drift, flipping back pages of stored historical memory.
A good length of time passed by...

With a felt tic, his mind settled back into the memory he was seeking. A smile flicked across his serene visage.

"Yes," he whispered softly, his lips barely parting, "this is it..."

He began scouring that moment in time for whatever details what he could dredge up into light...

Little Frederigo shoved himself to the front of the gathering throng, his child's autumnal clothing clinging annoyingly to the skirts, cloaks and pants he tried to push past. To get to the towne square, he'd had to weasel his way out from under his nanny's watchful eye and climb down the trellis, which was nearly as tall as the old oak in the courtyard. His parents would never have allowed him to a public performance such as this, much less without escort. He was certain to face a very stern reprimand and the dreaded switch upon returning home. It made the moment so much more memorable, in a youthful, rebellious way. Having gotten to the center of the ring, he stood at its edge, eyes gleaming with boyish excitement at the goings-on.

He felt a nudge at his shoulder, and turned cringingly, fearing it to be the hand of his father. Much to his relief, his eyes set upon the impish face of his friend, Ennowyn. She pushed her way past to the front of the crowd and stood beside him.

"There's to be a court entertainer to perform wondrous magical things today," the girl said with a broad grin, revealing the dark gap left by the tooth she'd lost last week.

"You scared me near to death!" he whispered loudly. "I'm so glad it's you, and not fa-ther," his voice oozing with distaste.

"S' not my fault you take to fright so easily," she said, rolling her eyes and giving him a jab to the side.

"You don't know my father's temper," he grumbled, shaking his head ruefully.

As she turned back to the center of the cobblestone square, he noticed that her long brown hair was free of its usual braided confinement and horribly mussed, glistening like a glass bird's nest in the mid-day sunlight. There were streaks of mud across her arms and face. She picked idly at a dried blob, waiting patiently for the entertainment to arrive. Frederigo observed this with amusement - she'd obviously been out in the fields getting into some sort of mischief, most likely harassing Mme. Surrot's flock of goats. Ennowyn hadn't a care in the world when it concerned sneaking out without escort, although it was quite unseemly, and quite possibly dangerous for a proper young lady to do so. With the sodden castoff dress and muddy countenance, though, she blended in with the assembled crowd like a brown leaf to the forest floor. Frederigo, on the other hand, stood out like a brightly-plumed peacock in a-

He was abruptly brought out of his thoughts by a soft pat of a dirty palm on his forehead.

"Wha...?" he muttered, blinking rapidly, the sunlight suddenly become more dazzling to his eyes.

"Silly, the show is about to begin," she whispered, and he followed her gaze back to the square's center. There, the brightly-colored performing magician was starting off with a few slight-of-hand tricks to impress those who were easily duped. He was already several months into learning the fundamentals of magic and such, and knew something of the ways of tricksters. He'd know real magic when he saw it.

"Ennowyn, you promised there would be real magic," he whispered into her ear. Her reply was to crack a sly smile and press a finger to her lips. There was no choice but to wait for it, Frederigo supposed. He crossed his arms across his chest in a skeptical manner and continued to watch the performer go through his routine with little amusement.

Frederigo's calm exterior vanished as his brow furrowed with renewed concentration. Memories of Ennowyn were throwing off his observation of the moment. There was a time and place for fond remembrances, and now was not an option. He refocused, trying to uncover something he had seen or felt or heard just before the magician had transformed.

1. The meditation on a memory continues...

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