By Anne Fraser and Barbara Zuchegna
With assistance from Sharon Pickrel and Jean Lamb
Copyright 1999

Chapter Thirty-Seven

It was an overcast evening, not uncommon at this time of year. Clouds, riding the jet stream from west to east, occasionally drifted this far north, but always held their moisture until they bumped into the Indian subcontinent.

Adrian Talbot, feeling more sorry for himself than even T'beth knew, sat in the darkness of the cemetery just beyond the village and reflected on the basic unwisdom of allowing himself to think that he had made a friend, when he should have known better. Richard had been friendly, but there was a big difference between friendly ... and friend. The truth was, Adrian told himself now, Richard had needed something to do with himself, and he had used Adrian and Adrian's problems to fill his damned time while he was waiting for his girlfriend to come back into his life. For Richard's purposes, anyone else would have done as well ... and anyone else's problems.

But he was Adrian Talbot, and he knew very well who Adrian Talbot was ... and what he was. Except for T'beth ... and Jake, he did not have friends. He thought he'd accepted that long ago. He'd been a fool to believe that Richard ... another aristocrat, another user, one of the class that had sneered down its collective nose at him for hundreds of years while it used him mercilessly, would actually lower himself to extend genuine friendship to the likes of Adrian Talbot.

Well, he'd had his nose rubbed in it now. Richard, comfortable and maddeningly content, with his beautiful little Liliana's adoring eyes glowing at him like stars, no longer had the time or the interest to indulge the lower orders.

Liliana didn't have Adrian's gift for night vision; he saw her long before she saw him. She was looking down, watching her footing as she crossed the uneven ground between the village and the cemetery, and even in his annoyance, he took a moment to admire her. As a gentleman ... and dammit, he was a gentleman, he'd deliberately avoided recalling Richard's dreams that Jake had picked up on and so vividly revealed to him. But he didn't have to envision Liliana in the throes of passion to be stirred by her. In deference to the local culture, she'd abandoned her favorite tight denim pants and was wearing a simple, ankle-length dress of lightweight cotton in a soft pink that gorgeously set off her flowing golden hair and lightly tanned skin. But gorgeous or not, she had no business intruding on his deliberately chosen solitude.

He stood up from the stone where he'd been sitting, at the edge of Naajy's grave. His voice was very stiff. "I find it hard to believe that you wandered out here by accident, Liliana."

She looked up, unsmiling. She had to come closer to see his face; in the little light from the village behind her, it would be no more than a pale blur in the darkness, he knew. "I didn't," she admitted freely.

Adrian drew himself up angrily. "I don't want to be discourteous, but I'm afraid I will be if you don't leave at once."

"I will." Lily smiled now, with a suspicious sweetness. "Give me your hand, Adrian."

He hesitated. "My hand?"

"You cut yourself."

"My hand is quite all right."

Her head tilted, spilling the pale hair to the side. "Is there some reason why I shouldn't see it?"

He made an irritated noise, but held out his hand. "Thank you," Lily said, in the same honeyed voice ... and just that quickly, they were in Ardeshir's house, in the well-lit bedroom she had shared with Richard during the day.

Adrian almost fell on his ass. There had been no feeling of disorientation ... nothing at all. He was in the darkened cemetery, and then he was here, blinking in the sudden light as his eyes tried to adjust. He jerked his hand away from Lily. "Dammit, woman! You had no right..."

"Shut up," Lily said mildly, and to Adrian's astonishment, his mouth clamped shut on what he had been about to say. Over the strangled noises he was making in his throat, Lily said, "We're going to have a little talk, my friend. And it can be as easy or as hard as you want it to be."

Rage boiled up in him uncontrollably. She dared...!

Furious, fanged, taloned, red-eyed, Adrian lunged at her and ... amazingly ... she wasn't there. Adrian knew damned well how fast he was, but instantaneous was obviously faster. He whirled around, and found her behind him, smiling patiently, like a mother waiting for a toddler's tantrum to run its course.

Adrian might be enraged, but he wasn't stupid. He was dealing here with something totally new in his experience. Jake, fascinated with the whole Awakened thing, had tried to talk to him about it, but Richard and Lily had been remarkably close-mouthed about the whole subject. He knew that Lily could do things that seemed like purest magic, although she claimed they weren't magical at all; T'beth had told him about the passports. Now, she was giving him a demonstration of just exactly how magical she could be. And how infuriating.

If he could get his hands on her, he could put an end to this ... hopefully, without doing her any permanent harm. He wasn't that mad. But unless he could distract her, he wasn't going to be able to touch her.

He stopped, fighting his anger. He felt the fangs retract, the talons soften into ordinary fingernails. He could do nothing about the flaming red of his eyes. He stood without moving, watching her, waiting, frustration roiling inside him like a violent nausea.

"Ready to behave?" she said. Her slight smile was not so much amused as rueful.

He nodded ... and somehow, she released his mouth. He said, with great dignity, "Obviously, you are endowed with abilities Richard never bothered to mention."

Her smile widened, with a trace of mischief. "Quite a few of them, as it happens," she said, "or didn't you intend the double-entendre in that?"

That was a low blow. "Certainly not," he said stiffly. "A gentleman never discusses such things."

"And you and Richard are such perfect gentlemen. I know."

There was no derogatory inflection in her voice, but Adrian was in a mood to see scorn in nursery rhymes. He actually found a way to draw himself up a little taller. "If you will tell me what it is you wish to discuss," he said, in tones of equal ice and anger, not giving an inch, "we can get this over with. But you are interfering where you can only do more harm than good."

"Maybe." She looked thoughtful, as if considering this seriously. It weakened her concentration on him for the smallest moment.

Adrian took the chance. He had long years behind him of learning to trust his speed. But he had no sooner made the first twitching move toward her than he found himself flat on his face on the floor ... and every muscle in his body spasming violently, totally out of his control.

"That, Adrian," Lily said gently, as his body began to jerk less convulsively, "is known as 'scrambling your brain.' You're not hurt. I just short-circuited a few little electrical discharges inside your head. You'll be fine in a minute."

He rolled over and glared up at her. He had never felt so totally helpless in his life, or as furiously frustrated. In 400 years, no one had ever been able to do to him what this tiny, delicate looking woman was doing.

Lily walked away from him, sighing, and went to sit on the edge of the bed. She looked almost impossibly beautiful, the great brown eyes as warmly liquid as any doe's. But there was nothing doelike in her utter confidence. "Now," she said, watching placidly while he fought himself to a crouching position, still quivering with an occasional spasm in an arm or leg, "if we've established that you stay here until I say you can go, maybe you can settle down and listen for a minute."

He tried mental power, and ran into the stone wall of Lily's mental control. She was totally impervious to the command he tried to send to her, and if she was at all aware of it, she gave no sign.

Adrian could have chewed nails. He couldn't outrun her, he couldn't overpower her, and he couldn't manipulate her mind. What in the hell were these Awakened people?

"I love him, Adrian," she said now, her voice changing to something much softer. "I would drag down the moon and stars for him if he wanted them. He doesn't. If there is anything at all that I can do for him, it's maybe just this one thing. I can try to make you understand him."

"I think I understand him well enough," Adrian said hoarsely. His throat wasn't working quite right yet. "I have known many high and mighty noblemen exactly like him. And it is really none of your business."

"You're right. He'd be furious if he knew I was talking to you. I'm sorry about that. I'm sorry I had to rough you up. But you don't listen very well when you've got your back up, you know."

Adrian managed to force himself upright at last. There was still a maddening tingle along his leg muscles as he did so. "Very well," he said. "If we must play out this farce, say what you have to say and let's end it."

She shook her head hopelessly. "The two of you ... I don't know how you ever got this far together. Adrian, he has been a king, a prince, a royal duke for all of his life. You can't expect to play a practical joke on such a man and have him allow you the upper hand. He was compelled to go you one better. Can't you see that?"

Yes, he could see it. He could see that Richard had had his dignity handed to him on a platter for his entire life. He didn't have to dig it out of the mud and filth of the gutter and fight like an animal to preserve it. "Pride is not his exclusive possession," he said.

"I know. And he's hurt you. I'm sorry for that, as he is. If you'd given him the chance, he would have told you so."

"But only if I apologized first," Adrian said. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he was aware of how childish they sounded. He was damned if he cared. He was entitled to his pride, too. He had fought for it a lot harder than Richard had ever had to.

Lily smiled sadly. "Yes. Only if you apologized first."

"I'll be damned if I will." What was she going to do about it? Scramble his brain again? Big deal.

"Okay." She surprised him. The great brown eyes weren't judgmental at all; they were just sad. "But in that case, you owe it to him and to yourself to know exactly what you're doing, and I don't think you do. Adrian, in this entire world, there is just one living being except me to whom he has given his entire love and trust ... and that one being is you. For all of his life, with the exception of two or three men he grew up with, men who are five hundred years dead, he has never been able to give that to any other man. He may never do it again. You are costing yourself a friend who will never in any way let you down, but you are costing him much more. You are costing him the only friend he may ever have."

He was? He stared at her, aware of her perfect sincerity, and absolutely unable to think of anything at all to say.

Lily sighed lightly and stood up. "You can go now. Or would you rather I take you back to the cemetery?"

He couldn't answer that, either. God damn it. He shouldn't be the one feeling guilty around here.

And he was.

Lily didn't push it. "I guess you can find your own way back, then," she said. "I'll leave you to it. And Adrian ... I really am sorry. I don't usually push people around. But I couldn't just sit there and watch him lose something that matters so much to him. Please try to understand."

She was actually pleading with him. Her small smile held an appealing helplessness ... and he had never known anyone less helpless in his life. "Forgive me," she said, and with a sudden small popping noise and a violent inrush of air, she was gone.

Adrian stared at the place where she had been.

"The only friend he may ever have."

That couldn't be true. Everyone fawned on Richard; he could have all the friends he wanted.

But he didn't want that kind of friends. Adrian already knew that.

Dammit to hell.

Why is there never anything handy to smash when you really, really need to smash something?

Richard was going to be furious.

Lily was well aware of it, the moment she reappeared outside, in the shadowed area beneath the awning in front of one of the houses near Ardeshir's. Richard, listening politely to something Jake was saying to him, kept casting quick glances around the square, and it didn't take Lily's empathy to know that he was looking for her ... and becoming more irritated by the moment. Richard couldn't read her as thoroughly through their bond as she could read him, but he was a more perceptive than usual man, and her disappearance, so soon after Adrian's, was nagging at him visibly. If ... when he knew she had manhandled poor Adrian, he was going to be furious with her.

That didn't greatly bother her. Making up would be fun. But not before something had changed between Richard and Adrian. She didn't want him mad if and when Adrian approached him.

Lily looked out over the square, hoping to see T'beth again. Time to get a real introduction to the little history ladies.

But T'beth had vanished.

Well, there was Ardeshir. Ducking, keeping clusters of partying Sa'idians between her and the table where Richard and Jake sat, Lily made her way over to the village headman and made her wishes known. He smiled down at her from his great height. "The kanums have wanted to meet you, lady. They will be pleased you have sought them out."

They were in his house, and Lily managed to stay on the right side of Ardeshir to avoid Richard's eyes until they were safely inside. She was promptly presented to three incredibly identical tiny women of great age and even greater good humor. Ardeshir called them the Kanums Souri, Assieh, and Mahasti. If he had any idea which was which, he didn't make it clear to Lily, but ordered a chair brought for her and sent one of his nieces running for refreshments.

The tiny kanum dressed in virulently bright purple leaned forward, one delicate, age-spotted hand emerging from her satins. In a sweet, musical voice ... and in English, she said, "Will the Kanum Liliana give me her hand?"

Lily had understood, from everything Richard and T'beth had told her, that these little ladies didn't speak English. She saw the amusement in their eyes as she turned this over in her mind. Apparently, there were things they had never felt it was necessary to reveal to Richard, or to T'beth, for that matter. A bit reluctantly, Lily offered her hand.

All three of them bent over it, with intense interest. They examined the back of her hand, making small, sibilant comments to each other over things they apparently found of interest. Her palm they found especially delightful, each of them looking up to beam at her as they traced lines, circled pads with fragile fingers, made little "oohing" noises over something they detected in the little scars she carried from childhood accidents.

"Thank you," the purple lady said, releasing her hand.

She studied them for a moment, and then said, "Perhaps you would tell me what you see in my hand that is of such interest."

They looked at each other, smiles widening, looking just as pleased as could be. Another one ... in knock-your-eye-out green, said softly, "It is the hand of a warrior, kanum. We are pleased with the Vaje Richard, and pleased his woman is worthy of him."

Well, that was nice. "A warrior?" Lily said. She had never thought of herself as a warrior.

"Yes," said the little lady dressed in electric pink. "The hand reveals the heart, kanum. You have a warrior's heart, as does your man."

Lily looked skeptical. "Richard allowed you to study his hand?" Never in a million years, she thought.

The three sisters put their heads together, giggling like teenagers. "It wasn't easy," Purple said, beaming. "He did not know. We allowed him to help us to rise, to climb into the vehicle. We saw what we needed to see."

"And what was that?"

They all looked monumentally satisfied with themselves. "Into his heart," Green said, happily. "Will you allow us to tell you something of what we found there?"

Lily was becoming uncomfortable. She didn't believe in fortunetellers. "I think..."

"He does not have a peaceful spirit," Pink interrupted.

Well that was hardly news. And it didn't take more than looking at his face to know it. "Thank you," Lily said. "I appreciate..."

"He will never know true happiness, kanum."

Lily stiffened. She wasn't going to listen to this. "Thank you," she said again, rising quickly. "But I think I had better..."

"He will know great joy," Green said, "and great sorrow. As you will, with him. But it will never be easy. And he will never be a happy man."

"I don't believe that," Lily said flatly. Who were these harpies, to be passing judgment...

Their smiles were friendliness itself. They meant no harm. Purple said, "He does not have the gift of finding satisfaction in himself. He needs you."

Lily had to get away from them. This was cutting too close to the bone. "Thank you. I have to go."

"Kanum," Pink said gently, "you are right to risk his anger. You will know, better than he does, what he needs."

Was she talking about Adrian? Lily's eyes swung from one to the other of their virtually identical faces. They had been great beauties, at one time; the vestiges were still there. And they were very sure of themselves.

"I have to go," she said again, quickly, and got the hell away from them.

Outside, she found the villagers suddenly much quieter, and most of them looking upward. There was a sudden, breathless murmur of sound running around the square. Lily looked up ... and felt a drop of rain hit her face.

Rain. Richard had said it hardly ever rained here, that even when the clouds came, there was no rain.

Another drop hit her, and then another. Out in the square, voices began to rise, excitedly.

It was raining. Really raining. After a moment, it started to come down harder, like a light summer shower back home. The Sa'idians began to cheer wordlessly, excited as children. The music had stopped, but now it began again, more feverishly enthusiastic than before. People were grabbing each other, swinging around in glee. No one showed the slightest inclination to come in out of the rain.

Lily looked across to where Richard was sitting, half-expecting him to have gone, but he was still there, still talking to Jake, a marvelous smile splitting his face at the obvious delight of the people of Sa'idi. Rain was clearly a cause for celebration.

Lily started toward him, and then slowed her steps, letting the villagers buffet her from side to side as she walked. Up ahead of her, ramrod straight, Adrian Talbot was walking toward Richard.

After Lily left, Adrian really wanted to throw something. There was nothing to throw. What an infuriating woman! How could Richard ... he stopped and took a breath he didn't need. She and Richard were perfectly suited to each other, of course.

He could just sit here and do nothing. He could walk away, not speak to Richard, and destroy a friendship. Stupid to think that he, Adrian Talbot, guttersnipe, could ever be friends with a king. He'd be damned before he apologized for a silly prank.

He'd be truly damned if he did not make amends.

Adrian sighed. Damn Lily. Damn Richard. Damn all kings, and the horses (or ATVs, as the case may be) they rode in on. He set his shoulders and walked out towards the square.

It was raining, but the party was continuing all the same. The Sai'idians, heedless of the moisture, were still determined to have a good time. There was a mad scramble to keep the fireworks dry, but otherwise the party was heating up.

Adrian found Richard and Jake talking comfortably over coffee.

Never apologize. And he didn't, not precisely.

"Richard," he said, and the king looked up, warily.

The world paused.

"Adrian," Richard nodded, waiting.

"’If we shadows have offended, think but this and all is mended: That you have but slumbered here, while we players did appear. Give me your hand, if we be friends; and Puck shall make amends.’" Adrian bowed and held out his hand, the one he'd cut on the diamond ring. The cut had healed, but there was still a faint drop of dark vampire blood on the palm. Adrian frowned--loose drops of vampire blood had a bad habit of entering unwilling mortal bloodstreams. He quickly wiped his hand on his shirt and offered it again.

Richard looked down at the offered hand, and back up to Adrian's stiff face. Adrian had no idea what was going on behind those dark eyes; there was no expression on Richard's face at all.

But, suddenly, with almost vampire speed, Adrian found his own slim hand engulfed in Richard's callused hand, and Richard was hauling him forward even as he pushed himself to his feet. Speechlessly astonished, Adrian felt Richard's arms close around him in what was, unmistakably, a hug.

A hug.

Adrian couldn't have been more astounded if Richard had thrown himself to the ground and kissed his feet. Except for T'beth ... and Alexis when she was in mom mode ... and Tegan, who was determined to marry him but would probably change her mind long before she reached puberty ... no one had ever hugged Adrian Talbot who wasn't trying to get in his pants. And he had absolutely no idea how he was supposed to respond.

Fortunately, it was very brief, and then Richard was holding him at arm's length, his hands firm on Adrian's shoulders. There was a look of awkward sentimentality on Richard's face for a moment, as surprising as an obscene gesture from a nun and quickly subdued. Richard smiled, rainwater running down his face.

"Can you forgive me, Adrian?" he said. "I have a heavy hand at games, I fear. I meant no harm."

"There was no harm," Adrian said, and realized that, actually, it was perfectly true. There was only his own readiness to take offense. "But I think I will hesitate to play a joke on you again."

Richard actually blushed. "I'm sorry," he said, with obvious sincerity. It came so easily ... once Adrian had made the first move. "I have not the gift for foolery that was everywhere else evident in my family."

Well, he didn't seem to have the gift for nasty treachery the rest of the bunch had, either, Adrian thought. "It's not much of a fault, Richard," he said graciously, "and you have gifts I value more."

"Good." Richard released his shoulders and stepped back. "Then we're friends. Come and sit with us, please."

Adrian reached up to wipe the streaming rainwater from his face. "Uh ... isn't anybody going to go in out of the rain?"

Richard's smile was easy again. "Our friends here find the rain very welcome. I think we would offend them if we ran from it."

Oh. Well ... Adrian took a seat, uncomfortably, on the wet cushions Richard had settled on. He saw Jake watching, bewildered, and sent a quick, 'Don't ask,' that way. Jake was agreeable; he had Lafeeta demanding his attention, which was a hell of a lot more entertaining that Richard and Adrian at the moment. But before he turned away, though, he couldn't resist a quick, mental, ‘If you're planning on giving holy wedlock another go, you really ought to break out the fake boobs again, Talbot.’

Adrian ignored it. He looked out over the dancing, singing, laughing crowd in the square ... and saw them parting, respectfully, before the small figure making her way across toward Richard. "Here's Liliana," he said, and then swallowed whatever else might have occurred to him.

Richard, whose eyes were quicker where Lily was concerned, was already on his feet again and moving.

Lily very probably wasn't yet aware of it, but the light cotton of her dress, rain-soaked, was clinging to her body and as transparent as cellophane. Richard made it to her in three strides, pulled her into his arms, and whispered in her ear.

Adrian saw her eyes widen, her mouth form a small, dismayed "Oh," and then, villagers or not, she and Richard winked out of existence.

"Don't gape, Jacob," Adrian said comfortably, smiling at Jake. "You've seen her do it before."

"Not dressed like that, I haven't." He had seen far more when he was channeling Richard’s dreams, but Liliana in dreams and Liliana in the flesh were two very different things.

Adrian looked around the square again. The dancing was getting more exuberant by the minute. One thing you had to give the Black Baluchis. They knew how to party. If anyone else had noticed the abrupt eyeblink departure of two of their honored guests, they didn't seem upset about it ... or about Richard's continued absence. Nobody seemed to be paying any attention at all.

Adrian stood up. So much for noblesse oblige, he thought. He was going to get himself in out of the damned rain.

I don't fear death, the thought of it brings no sorrow,

But how bitter will be this last farewell.

For you are beautiful, and I have loved you dearly,

More dearly than the spoken word can tell.

(The Last Farewell, by Roger Whittaker, used without permission)

Jake and Lafeeta sat laughing in the rain.

"You have brought me good luck, Ja'ake," the pretty girl said, throwing her arms around him. "Already, I can feel a strong son growing inside me. He will be a player of ballfoot, like you."

"Football," said Jake uncomfortably, aware of what else that son would be.

Dhampire.

Or would he only be a half-blood, like Jake? What was half a dhampire, since they were only half-vampires themselves? He'd have to ask Paul, if he remembered to. Jake was really sick of hearing himself called a half-blood, a perversion; he was beginning to wonder if that was really what he was. If so, what was the son of a perversion?

He was getting depressed.

"Lafeeta," he said, "I wish you could come back to Canada with me. I could help you raise our kid, if I ever find another job..."

She laughed, then hugged him to take away the hurt. "You are so sweet, Ja'ake," she said. "Just because you and I have made a son between us, that does not mean we must marry. That is not how Baluchi women do it. Can you pay my mother horses and guns for me?"

"Well, no..."

"I like you very much, Ja'ake," Lafeeta assured him. "But that has nothing to do with a successful marriage."

A culture gaped between them, and they both stood teetering on the brink. "I don't have a girlfriend back home," Jake muttered.

She studied him, so big, so honest, so open. He was nothing like a Baluchi, either the smugglers or the villagers; he came from the exotic land of Canada, where it always snowed and moose and beavers roamed the streets like the feral dogs in Sa'idi. Lafeeta didn't know what moose and beavers were, but she was sure they lurked on every corner in Toronto. One had to be hearty to survive such a cold land. It was not a place she wanted to go.

"You will find one," she told him as a surety. "Now, kiss me goodbye, Ja'ake."

He obeyed, and the kiss deepened, and Adrian and Richard and Lily were forgotten.

Shaking himself like a wet dog, Adrian headed for his darkened room in Aredshir's house. He had thought that everyone was out in the square for the festival, but his vampiric hearing sent him the sound of surreptitious snuffles, the sound of someone crying quietly so that nobody will hear them. He went to investigate, wondering who could be as miserable as he was feeling.

He found Hanan curled up in a ball on his divan, sobbing softly to herself. She looked up in fright as the Vaje Adrian came into the room, and tried to scramble off his bed. He stopped her gently.

"I have offended the vaje-ye," she sniffed, hanging her head. "I will not trouble him any further. My mother will beat me as I deserve."

"No," Adrian said. "I am the one who deserves a beating. I treated you badly." Never apologize. "Smile for me, Kanum Hanan."

The absurdity of her, a mere unmarried girl, being called "Kanum" by an Exalted One made Hanan smile.

"There, you see," Adrian returned the smile in delight. "Things are never as bad as they seem. You did not offend me, Hanan. I was out of sorts when I awoke."

"But you are wet, Vaje Adrian," she exclaimed as he dripped on her. "You will catch cold!"

His mouth twitched. "It is four centuries too late for that, Hanan," he said gravely.

Her mouth twitched, too. "An Exalted One cannot catch cold!" she laughed at herself.

"But my wet clothes can get the divan covers wet, which is rude to Ardeshir."

"I will help you take them off," Hanan offered, then caught herself. "If the Vaje-ye permits."

He permitted.

T'beth, on the other hand, was saying farewell to an entire village. She had another conversation with the triplets, who demanded to see her hand. She had a conversation with Ardeshir. She had a conversation with several of the Sa'idi Exalted, some of whom were still suffering from scarlet crowfoot hangovers.

With a certain young man from the Sa'idi Exalted, whom she had met in the Saravan Palace, she had very little conversation but lots of communication.

It would probably be another 500 years before she had to return to her native earth. Native mud, now, with the unusual rain that she knew was seen as a blessing, proof that the Exalted Ones had brought the village luck.

So much had changed in Iran. The name of the country, for a start. It had been Persia. It had been less restrictive to women. She would be keeping an eye, via Richard's agents and her own spy system, on Shapour and the new government. Things like the harem would not be allowed to exist again, or they would answer to her crossbow.

She would go back to Toronto, and take up her life as a private investigator again. It was just a fancy term for hunter, and hunting was what she did best. The memories of Khelat, silver chains, and torture she would file away. The memory of how good it had been to see Adrian's stupid little face peering down at her...

No. Nobody was allowed to touch her heart. Never again. And they would both be destroyed if ... shut up, T'beth, shut up.

The young Sa'idian turned over and looked at her enquiringly. She jumped him.

We all have different ways of forgetting.