"I suppose she must have been my sister," he says, not quite in response to the Wastelander's question. "I forgot... I forgot all of them. For Erzulie. Was that mercy? And then you brought them back to me, when you took Erzulie away. Was that mercy?"

"...You sacrificed--your memories, or a person?"

"The first candle, Arthur. He was scars - scars of the body, the mind, the soul - and betrayals, sending others down the Seeking road. For Beau, my past. I gave up my home and who I was. For Cerise... Alice down the Well. She trusted me, even though she didn't know me anymore." He doesn't seem to remember how to cry. He just carries on, his speech quickening and his eyes bulging. "Destin, I gave my future. I knew what I would become. Erzulie, my memories - everything that I had ever known but him. Fortigan, my faith. It seems so small, but a mustard-seed is a mustard-seed, isn't it? And Gawain..." He draws his finger across his throat, shaking like a leaf. "And I was to go North. To tell his story to the stars. But- but it doesn't seem - I don't think it was-"

The tears finally come. "It wasn't worth it," he says effortfully. "It wasn't beautiful at all."

"Wait, back up. Tell his story to the stars?"

"They were his friends. They- he said they deserved to know."

"They're not his friends! They're--you know how on the Surface when you die you just die? They're that. The effect of telling the stars wouldn't be 'his friends know what happened to him,' it would be 'the space constables show up and wreck everything'!" Deep breath. "Sorry. You didn't know that." 

He hiccups. "I- I don't think he cares. I wouldn't have, when I was his Name. He wanted revenge, too."

"Ugh. Okay, that's--I'm going to have to find out who else is Seeking and stop them. I can show you the scratched glyph on his old rooms if you want, though." 

"I don't think most people get far enough to really worry about. It's... not easy. Plenty of people sacrifice to the Well, or scar themselves, or stain their souls... but I had to find a place that doesn't exist, for Beau, and a place that no one remembers, for Erzulie, and I needed to get my own ship, even, for the last couple of them, no one would sail me where I wanted to go. He told me, before I died, that I was his best chance in two hundred years."

"That's...better than not, at least. What's all this about spelling his name, anyway, the Correspondence doesn't work like that, it has ideograms, not alphabets."

"His name... you could call it his story, instead. Seven sigils, seven candles, spread through the fabric of my very being, because to write them all on one surface would destroy it. That was what I was supposed to bring North."

"That makes sense." Sigh. "Do you have anywhere to go right now?"

"I was staying in an abandoned crypt on the outskirts of London, but it might be occupied by now, I don't know how long I've been... dead."

"Also, that's depressing as hell. Do you want to stay at my mother's place for the moment, it'll be a little crowded but, uh, not a crypt."

"Um."

He considers this offer.

"Why... would you let me do that."

"Well, I don't think you're going to hurt her, or anyone else there, and if I'm wrong I can heal them and hunt you down." 

"...I can't really argue with that, admittedly," the Erstwhile Seeker admits. "Sure, I'll come with you. Do you have anything else to take care of in the city?"

"I have to stop by the Carnival on the way home to let Lurulel know I got him into Benthic and collect the amber I need but then I'm going right home."

He shivers slightly. "I suppose I have to go back there eventually."

"The Carnival?"

"-um, that must sound a bit ridiculous, if you don't know the context - the place that doesn't exist, where I found Beau, it was a dark reflection of the Carnival. It was... not pleasant."

"Unpleasant Carnival in Parabola, got it. Actually my assumption was that you'd done something in this version of the Carnival that was going to be awkward to explain why I was in your vicinity."

"No, I didn't do anything terribly unpleasant at the real Carnival. If we run into Mrs. Plenty, I... suppose I'd like to thank her. She tried to talk me out of it. I was too far gone for it to work, but she tried."

"Gotcha. I'm glad to hear it." 

They reach the Carnival. Lucy checks what the current status of the Anatomical Exhibit is. 

Another crowd of flustered Londoners is exiting the tent. The man on duty recognizes her and waves her in after the audience has removed itself.

Lurulel rubberies over to her. <<You've returned,>>  he burbles.