I, Amata of Telraum, write what I have seen that others may know it. Let them make of it what they will, but I think it was not given for me alone. It seems only a dream, yet it must have been more than a dream, for things are different now than when I lay down last night.
I am nineteen years old, crippled in my legs, but able with my hands. I live by sewing, and stay in the upper room of the innkeeper at Telraum. I came here on my own many years ago, and have survived on my own through most of my life. But last night I learned what I could not do on my own. That was the price of joy.