He gets to his feet with some difficulty, apparently as the result of some mishap resulting in serious injury. I take his hand and give it a firm shake, though not overly familiar. "Samuel Durand, sir, Friar Observant. Please," I add, gesturing toward his chair.

"I do believe we have met, yes. Do you happen to recall the circumstances?"

I do have a sense of it, as it happens. But what prevents me from answering immediately is not how we met, but that I cannot remember just what part of me he happened to see. Does he? Tread lightly.

"It was quite some time ago," I say slowly, as though teasing details from a muddled and indistinct memory. "Far from here. I hope you'll pardon my forgetfulness, but I've spent most of my life traveling and after a while a lot of the smaller towns start to blur together." It is a lie, of course, that I don't remember the name. It's even on one of my bloody maps.

"There was a carnival, and they made a great spectacle of the--how does one put it?-- uniquely and singularly afflicted." I smile. "I came after the show was done, to see if there was aught a man like myself could do to be of use."

"I'm almost sure that was when we met. I feel that perhaps you were a great and generous patron to the poor unfortunate souls."