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cave will offer you a chance.”
    â€œI could probably learn a lot about what led to her current problems,” Cole said. “You told me that dead echoes can go crazy over time. Does the same happen to imprints?”
    â€œI understand that it can,” Sando said. “The reaction would partly depend on the person imprinted. The imprint would have no physical needs or appetites, but it will be no happier to remain trapped inside the Cave of Memory than you would be. If such a fate would drive you mad, your imprint will have the same response.”
    â€œThe imprint would have no hope of escape,” Cole said. He tried to picture how it would feel to be stuck forever in some cave. “Does the imprint suffer?”
    Sando gave a light chuckle. “An imprint might seem to suffer. It could act distressed. But the imprint has no life. No will. It only imitates something that was alive. It’s a replica. The imprint can convey information. It can mimic emotion. But its feelings are no more real than those of a puppet or a footprint.”
    â€œIs the Cave of Memory hard to find?” Cole asked.
    â€œThe location is no great secret,” Sando said. “Many could direct you. The closest village to the cave is called Rincomere.”
    â€œWell, thanks,” Cole said.
    â€œThis is not good-bye, young sir,” Sando said. “Our partnership is just beginning. Save your farewells for after you deliver the ringer. A final matter. You are traveling alone?”
    â€œNo,” Cole admitted.
    â€œHow will you explain your new knowledge to your friends?”
    â€œThat’s right. I agreed not to tell them about you. They’ll want to know my source.”
    â€œTry not to lie,” Sando advised. “Falsehoods have a way of unraveling, especially in Necronum. Do your companions know about your damaged power?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œReport that you met an old semblance who recognized your mangled power and took pity on you. This is all true. You had desperate need for rare knowledge in my possession. I could have required an exhausting quest. I could have demanded vast treasures. Instead, I made a generous bargain. And if they ask my name?”
    â€œPretend I don’t know?” Cole tried.
    â€œThat would be a lie,” Sando chided. “Try something like, ‘Good question. I should have found out.’ ”
    â€œI should have and I did,” Cole said.
    â€œImply the lie,” Sando said. “Don’t state it outright.”
    â€œYou’re good at this.”
    â€œI lived a long mortal life, and many years as an echo besides,” Sando said. “I’ve had ample time to practice.”
    â€œCole?” a voice called.
    Cole put a finger to his lips so he could listen. It sounded like Joe. He seemed to be a fair distance away.
    â€œCole! Cole? Come to the shrine. Cole?”
    â€œYour friends are searching for you,” Sando said. “Go to them.”
    On impulse, Cole attempted to drop the silver ringer. He swung his hand forward, but his fingers refused to let go. He tried once more with no success.
    â€œDid you think I was bluffing?” Sando asked.
    â€œI just wanted to see what it felt like,” Cole said, pocketing the ringer and then flexing his fingers. They moved fine when he wasn’t trying to drop it. “Thanks for the info.”
    Sando folded his hands on his lap, closed his eyes, and smiled. “We will meet again, giver of silver. May each step bring you closer to prosperity.” The old beggar faded and disappeared.
    â€œCole?” Joe called again, nearer this time.
    Cole stood up and peered over the bushes. Joe was coming back toward the shrine along a trail. “I’m coming,” Cole answered, dodging around vegetation.
    As Cole reached the path, a short woman in a silk robe marched up to him. “Leaving the footpaths is prohibited throughout the garden,”