--Forty Levels Away--

Diggory woke up to find she was lying in the middle of the road.

She stood up and moved to the pavement before she could be run over. She was amazed at how fast and with how little pain her body responded; she appeared to be completely healed, body and mind, free of even the usual aches and pains along her shoulders, spine and fingers that came with using a computer far too much. She was absolutely sure she had been injured. She was never at full health. She didn't remember the last time she was healed. Come to think of it, she couldn't remember anything about how she got here. She couldn't remember anything at all; where she was, why she was here, what she had last been doing. She was dressed in her usual clothes, a green tunic and a blue travelling cloak, except that they had been washed until they were completely clean. That wasn't right either; she had definitely picked up some wear and tear. She was an exile, a wanderer. She remembered that much. What was more; she had no other possessions except a backpack full of bread rolls and five thousand gilders in notes stuffed in a brown envelope. That was more money than she'd ever seen in her life.

She sat on a signpost on the side of the road that said 'Welcome to Ztatts' and tried to gather in her mind everything she could remember. Her name was Diggory Doragor. She felt a mental serenity and exhilaration that bordered upon religious experience and didn't know why. If she wasn't disturbed by her almost complete amnesia, she would have counted it the best day she had in years. She was also very hungry. She remembered being asleep for a very long time. Asleep, or dead, or in a coma; she had been doing something for a very long time. She couldn't really remember what. She was just glad it was over.

She tried to remember something, anything else, but failed. It was all a warm, dark haze, as though it had simply been erased in her sleep like the pain, just a series of dreams that vanished in the morning. She decided to forget about it for now and look for some food that wasn't bread rolls. She shouldered her backpack and carried on walking up the road, a cool breeze ruffling her long, light brown hair and encouraging her already mildly euphoric mood. She did this a lot; wandering between places, not sure where she was, where she would be next, fitting in nowhere and not particularly caring. After about half an hour she came to an inn; it was called the Erias Arms and had a picture of a long winding path with a signpost at one end. She pushed open the door and walked inside.

She was almost immediately greeted by a blonde-haired man, slightly shorter than her, in a grey-blue tunic, who ran up to her and hugged her. She stepped back and stared at him blankly.

"Diggory! It's me, Ander!"

"Ander!" she said, returning his hug. She vaguely remembered him now. He was her favourite companion-in-exile. He showed her to the table he had been sitting at. Dumping her bag on a vacant stool, she went to the bar and ordered a pint of the local ale and a steak.

"What a coincidence, seeing you on the road!" said the ginger-haired man, "I was just going to Ztatts to look for work. You coming?"

"Uh..." Diggory stared at him. She tried to remember him as she had recognised her closest companion-in-exile, the long-suffering Ander of Lyle, but his face, although handsome, was a blur. Ander took this moment to poke Diggory hard in the chest. She slapped him across the face.

"Hang on a minute, you're physically here!"

"What do you mean?" she gave him a vacant look, "Er, would you mind not poking my breasts?"

"DIGGORY'S HERE!" yelled Ander at the top of his voice, "SHE'S HOME! DIGGORY'S HOME!"

"You be home from exile, girl?" demanded the barman, a small, elderly man with a rat's head, a tail and furry grey hands that were half paw. He leaned over the bar, distracted from cleaning the glass he was holding.

"Er..." Diggory looked around nervously, "Yes."

"And you buying own drink?" he glared at Ander, who took a step back.

"It's okay, I can pay. Really." Diggory thought about the five thousand guilders in her backpack. Was it wise to tell anyone about that? She retrieved a note she'd stuffed inside her front pocket and bought another drink. Seeing the determination in her eyes, Ander capitulated.

"I can't believe you're really back..." said Ander, "There should be uproar. Absolute chaos. Did the border guards stop you? Was there a lot of paperwork? What was it like in that weird place anyway?"

"Er... I..." her head suddenly hurt a lot, "I don?t know what you're talking about. I don't remember. I don't remember a single thing..."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean what I just said."

"What? You remember NOTHING?" he yelled, "Fifteen years in exile and you can't tell me anything? What'd you do, hit your head on the floor when they threw you out?"

"I don't know..."

"Was it the shock of returning? It must be hard, suddenly being in your real body."

"I feel fine..." commented Diggory.

"You THINK you feel fine. But a person's mind can play tricks on them."

"I know why girl no remember exile!"

Diggory looked around. The barman fixed her an intense stare.

"Government do that to you." he continued.

"Pardon?"

"Government bad, oppressive, yes? Send girl into exile, no not done nothing wrong." he said, "Have to send girl home. Don't want no-one to know details. Erase memory everyone involved."

"Stop peddling your ridiculous conspiracy theories!" snapped Ander.

"The government of where, Ander? I don't even remember where I've been!" said Diggory.

"Ha!" yelled the barman, "I tell you, didn't I? Government hide! Hide everything! Liars!"

"Look, it doesn't matter." he yelled, "It's over, okay? Diggory's back. She just wants to make a fresh start, here, in her home, with her friends. A real life. Come on, Diggory, we're leaving."

"Er..." Diggory looked at her companion-in-exile, then at the barman, who had drawn a large cudgel and was waving it at Ander, ranting in a language she didn't understand. She left the inn with Ander.

Night fell. She heard faint music from the direction of the town proper, beyond the enormous iron gates. The music drew her inside, as though her feet moved of their own accord. It soothed her spirit. It was alive and it made her alive by touching her soul, filled the dead emptiness. Humming the song under her breath, she moved towards the music, the light and the energy. Ander was singing too, a faraway look in his eyes. There were pools of light everywhere, people sitting by the riverside and talking, laughing, dancing. She wanted to dance, too. This was the rhythm of her heartbeat. This was her homeland. Her fuyodol.

"This is my fuyodol." she whispered.

"The whole Universe is your fuyodol, almaty." he said, "Welcome home."
--