"Oso trained in the brine pits of the Austerlanding-Brisotho crawled up onto his lean haunches. He wasn’t built very solidly, but like a recurved bow, a quivering spring. He was game for this."
The book starts conventionally (for this kind of book, anyway), with a search for the historical personage. The line had gone extinct. What few tracts remain with his name appended have been increasingly questioned as his autograph. Even the memory of him, in once-vital brains, has faded with timely attrition. What remains are the references to him, in his students’ and friends’ works. How can a man be remade from words? Sooner reconstitute the dust of his corpse then reanimate scribbles on a page.
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