Many Unhappy Returns


Vere [halts] once the Lighthouse of Cabra comes into sight, and contact Gerard via Trump to inform them of their arrival.

"Who's there?" says a familiar voice.

"It is Vere, Father. We are within sight of Cabra. I plan to camp a few hour's march from Amber, and should arrive in the late morning tomorrow." Vere smiles as the card shifts under his gaze, the image giving way to the reality. But even in his pleasure at seeing his father his eyes flick around the limits of what he can see in the card, automatically cataloging and analyzing all available information about where his father is and what he was doing before he received the call.

Gerard is in his study. It looks like he was reading a book which he set aside on his desk when he became aware of Vere's call. He smiles broadly at the news that Vere is almost in Amber.

"Vere! It's good that you'll be here tomorrow. We've got a lot to talk about before you head off for the Isles, and some of it will be better spoken in person. Before you ask, we talked to Julian a few days ago and word is that Robin is well. And I have a letter around here from your sister Folly, too." He wheels over to the desk and begins rummaging around.

"How are your men adjusting to the surface? And how has the march been?"

Vere smiles at the mention of Robin. "The march has been surprisingly easy, Father. It is a great pleasure to finally be able to put into practice the theoretical knowledge of walking through shadow. The men are adapting and learning quickly, I would like to arrange for some intensive sparring practice between them and some of the king's guards before we leave for the isles. Do you think that could be arranged with Commander Venesch?"

Gerard nods. "I don't see why not."

He tilts his head to one side. "And a letter from Folly? She is not currently in residence?"

"She and Martin came back a few days ago, and then rode right back out again. And there's a lot of excitement about where they went too, but that's one of the things we need to talk about." Gerard looks a bit disconcerted as he retrieves the note and hands it to Vere.

Vere takes the note, smiling slightly at the still novel sensation of reaching through a trump contact for a physical object. Then the smile fades as he regards his father. "Is there anything we should discuss immediately?" he asks. "You look somewhat..." he pauses, picking his words with deliberation, and concludes, "...agitated. Are there things I should know before arriving?"

"The news is almost all good, I think," Gerard replies. "But some of it's not the sort of thing I want to talk of through a Trump. The King has returned. And there's a new cousin who's come in with Caine. Her name is Hannah and she's a doctor. She's been helping me with Solace. And I gather you know about Celina, who came from Paris with her brother."

He pauses and adds, "Martin asked me for permission to court Folly."

"Ah," says Vere. After a moment, he asks, "And you replied...?"

"Well, once Folly giggled like a maiden barely out from under her governess and made it clear it was what she wanted, I told the lad yes. I think he'll have a harder time with his father, though." Gerard frowns. "But you read the letter. I imagine it will explain all that."

Changing the subject, Gerard adds, "And there's more family gossip than you can shake a stick at. Other comings and goings and additions to the family. The sooner you stop dawdling, though, the sooner you'll be home and hearing about it."

[OOC: just to keep timing straight, Jovian returns after this call.]

"Understood. I have..." Vere tilts his head to one side and goes through a quick mental checklist before continuing, "...four things to bring up before ending this conversation.

"Primus, are Kourin and Jovian still available with their dragons, or has something occurred to prevent them from being able to return with me to the Isles?

"Secondus, have the arrangements for a ship for transportation been made, and if so, under what conditions?" Vere smiles, and adds, "If you tell me that Lord Worth will be commanding it, and that it and a full crew will be available to me for the duration, I shall be pleased.

"Tertius, I would be grateful for a private audience with His Majesty as soon as convenient.

"Terminus, where shall I and the Children of Lir settle? Shall we encamp at the foot of Mt Kolvir, just outside the city, or shall we march into the city itself and take rooms? What do you think would be best, Father?"

Gerard takes these in reverse order, ticking them off on his meaty fingers. "Camp at the foot of Kolvir, I think. When I ask His Majesty for your audience, I'll make sure he has no better ideas. If he'd rather you camped somewhere else, I'll send word.

"The ship I've arranged, and I'll tell you it took some doing. Worth is ready to take the captaincy, and I have good men for your crew. The dragons are the only hitch. Kourin is waiting for you, as are the rest of her men, but Jovian has gone into Arden. Time's all askew there, so there's no telling how long he'll be gone. He was with Julian, though, so if he's not here by the time you're ready to go, we'll ask Julian how long he'll be."

"Very good, Father. Thank you. I shall go now and speak with my captains." Vere pauses for a moment to see if Gerard has any last words, then says, "Tomorrow," and passes a hand over the card to break the connection.

Gerard bids him farewell before he does so, but has nothing more of substance to add.

Before returning to the camp he opens and reads the letter from Folly.

The sealed note Gerard handed him is addressed to Vere, but in a whimsical script that almost makes his name look like a motorbike.

Greetings, Brother --

I regret that I will likely be absent from Amber by the time you return from your Paris adventure. I look forward to the day when we can sit down together again over a nice cup of tea and catch up, for there are many things I long to discuss with you. But alas, this brief note will have to suffice for the time being....

And so...

1) Congratulations! (Me too, but Xanadu.)
2) Congratulations! (Me too, but Martin.)
2a) ROBIN?!?!?!?! Really?! When did this happen?!
2b) (but on reflection, it's perfect, isn't it?)
3) Remind me to tell you about my mother.
4) Did you know Corwin named his city after a guy that stole somebody else's wife? I've no idea what that means....

Love and light, brother, and good fortune in all your endeavors. May your journey bring you safely home.

Warmest thoughts,
F

Vere smiles fondly as he reads the letter. Then he frowns. "Xanadu. How interesting. Now why did she let me know she knew? A message intended for Random? A warning not to underestimate her?" He shakes his head, then folds the letter and heads back to camp.

Once back at camp he calls his captains together, to tell them the plans for tomorrow. The band shall march to the foot of Kolvir and make camp. Men may be given leave to venture into Amber, but leave will be on a rotation and no one is to be gone for more than two watches, and men are to travel together in groups of no less than three. Every man in such a group is responsible for each of the others. Once Vere has spoken with the king, and has a better idea of when they will be leaving, that restriction may be lifted.

The men understand the restrictions and will abide by them.

Then Vere will circulate among the men, answering any last minute questions they might have about Amber and joking with them about the stories they have heard He assures them that the likelihood they will see any women kept in chains by their husbands is actually quite small.

There are many questions about the strangenesses they can expect in Amber, but most of them are trivial. The most persistent ones concern Queen Vialle: how is she? can she be expected to visit the Children of Lir? etc. Vere can tell that the Children really haven't internalized the idea that Random rules and she is his consort.

There's also some curiosity about Prince Martin, the Queen's grandson, who has been out of Rebma for some time, and his kinswoman the Duchess Valeria, who is known to some of the gentlemen of rank in the Children.

Vere says that he hopes the queen will be able to take time from her schedule to visit the Children, although of course everyone knows how busy a queen is. He doesn't bother pointing out yet again that she isn't actually the reigning monarch, if they haven't got it in their heads by now then mere repetition won't be enough.

He tells them that Prince Martin is currently out of Amber on a mission for his father, although it's possible he will return before they leave. Her Grace is still in Amber as far as he knows. He cautions them that she is still in mourning over the murder of her father, and unless the culprit has been discovered she will no doubt be focusing most of her attention upon that matter.


As soon as is practical after he arrives in Amber with Paige (I'm not sure if this would be before or after Jovian got back) Brennan follows up on his original note to Caine by going to meet with him, and with Gerard, if he's also available.

Prince Caine is in his office. There is a sailor outside who seems to be both a gatekeeper and an errandboy. Brennan is shown directly in.

Caine says "I received your note. Drink?" He pours himself something that smells strong.

Brennan nods, and asks whether Gerard will be attending, as well. If so, he waits for him.

Gerard can't make it.

Either way, he will begin thus:

"I'm sure you know at least some of this, already, but I'll say it just in case: Aisling is confirmed dead, and has at least one offspring-- a daughter named Saeth." Brennan regards Caine for a moment...

He nods, but doesn't react otherwise.

...then asks, "How much do you know about the life and death cycles of Chaosi lords?"

"Some. We all got a few reminders just a few weeks ago, our time. Assume I need to be told anything that's relevant to the story."

"Only if you promise to point out anything you know is wrong," Brennan says. "I know a little and conjecture more, but that hardly makes me the expert."

Caine nods, as if that goes without saying.

Brennan sips at his drink, then continues: "First and foremost, it was Grandmother who broke Aisling out of your prison. This is what killed Aisling, and produced at least one offspring." He's said this enough, by now, that he can say it almost conversationally. Almost. "One way for Chaos Lords to reproduce is by fission, splitting off a small part of themselves. I'm sure this is how Madoc produced Aisling in the first place, and I'm growing more certain that in doing that, he had a certain amount of control over her basic personality. If the piece that splits off is large enough, I gather that the larger one, the 'parent' is noticeably altered."

He takes another drink. "Sometimes, the split isn't voluntary or premeditated. Sometimes, it is the result of violence. When Grandmother took her from your prison, that was violent enough to... rip Aisling apart. Literally. Saeth was the part she returned to her Court with. As part of her bid to tempt Madoc to her family reunion with a 'surprise,' I gather.

"Yeah, Madoc was surprised, all right."

"He doesn't seem to be the kind to love surprises, if what little I recall of him is correct." [Caine] sips his own drink. "Does this relate to, or, perhaps, 'how do we relate to' the third intruder from the coronation ball?"

"Cleph?" Brennan asks. "He is Dara's brother, as we'd use the term; he's descended of Borel." Brennan thinks back to conversations he's had, and conjectures of things that weren't said aloud, then adds, "Yes, it would fit every fact I know if Cleph were born out of Borel's death at Corwin's hand. I expect that will mean he's particularly unhappy with Corwin."

"Hmm. Let's hope he knows about Paris, then. Unless Dara absorbed the parts that were particularly unhappy with Corwin. She struck me as...overly volatile."

"Chaotic, even," Brennan mutters.

"Even given that," Caine replies.

He looks at Brennan. "Is Madoc worth cultivating? Aisling tried to be quite convincing of his susceptibility to alliances with Amber."

Here, Brennan gives a scowl deeper than his typical scowl of deep thought. He's already thought about this. "That was before we helped to get Aisling killed," he says sourly, "but do we have a choice? Madoc knew a great deal about us before her death. Now, with Saeth in his custody, he may know even more. Which is what makes it such a tangle-- Saeth inherited memories of you, and they were right up at the top of her mind. Grandmother may have just given him a shove toward Dara and Cleph.

"There are a whole host of other ugly questions, too. Were any lesser fragments of Aisling left behind? What happened to them? How much does Grandmother know about the last minutes of her favorite son's life? If Madoc was able to shape Aisling in the making, was Grandmother able to shape Saeth's?" Brennan finishes his drink and gives a long, discontent sigh. "Ignoring it won't make the problem go away. The question is, who pulls the short straw for that job?"

"Who would you recommend should be sent looking for those answers, if your advice on such matters were to be solicited?," Caine asks, looking at his nephew.

That's a question Brennan was expecting, and has a ready answer for. "From the Knights: Lilly. She has a good head on her shoulders, she can take care of herself, and I'll be surprised if she doesn't come back from Xanadu invested in the Family abilities. Jovian was too close to Aisling to be credible, and if Saeth has any memories of Marius, then his comments made him ineffective.

"From the Redheads at large: Conner. He's supposed to be trained as a diplomat. Perhaps Brita, for the same reason as Lilly. Fom the rest of Cour at large: Reid. Good strong Cymnean descent for each of them, just like Madoc, Aisling, and Saeth. Too bad none of them are in Amber, right now. Without proven Cymnean descent," Brennan pauses, considering whether to add the next name, "perhaps Folly. Call it a hunch, but she's good with people. And if Saeth inherited any memories of Folly, they would have had to be positive."

"Like as not Marius and Ossian will run across him and cement the relationship between Madoc and Amber," Caine says dryly. "They also have her Affine with them, if I recall."

Brennan lets that whole concept pass with a very thin smile. There's not much he can do about it now, anyway.

"Was there any sign of other surviving fragments?" Brennan asks.

"None that I found. And I disposed of the prison. I didn't want a trail back here."

"Nice trick," Brennan says. "I need to learn how to do that, some time." But the comment sparks a thought in Brennan's mind: "If Aisling had been vested in the Family powers, could your prison have still kept her confined? Or if someone had had a Trump of her?"

"No, but I'd've been alerted. That worked."

Brennan raises his eyebrow appreciatively. "Some day, when there's enough time to make it worthwhile, I'm going to have to ask you to show me how to do that," Brennan says.

Then he continues the thread of conversation, saying, "I'll explain the connection in a minute, but here's a question for a suspicious mind: What common threads are there between Lucas, Paige, Ossian, Ysabeau, and Huon?"

"None that immediately present themselves," Caine replies. "Certainly none that are specific to that set and that set only of our relatives. I assume you're not asking idly. What common thread did you have in mind?"

"One that explains why they were separated from Brand's other Trumps and squirreled away carefully for my brother to inherit, ideally," Brennan says. "I have an obvious theory, but I may not be entirely objective where Brand's acts and motives are concerned. Rumor has it that Huon was banished and sent somewhere he couldn't get back from, and your description of Aisling's prison brought that to mind.

"Feel free to fill me in on anything I might not know about Huon and Ysabeau."

"Two very different tales. The nice and tragic tale is a girl who is pulled apart by powerful conflicting imperatives. She had a difficult time escaping from the confines of her mother's shadow and in the end returned there to die. Gerard and Julian can tell you more, or course. She was their sister.

"Huon, on the other hand, was unable to master his own superiority to most men, and, when he was determined to be a prince he was a poor one. He was sent away several times, for longer and longer periods. Eventually, after he killed his brother, Oberon stopped rescuing him from whatever trouble he got into. Ultimately he stopped coming back and he stopped answering his trump.

"Did we, and by that I mean the King, do whatever was finally done to him? I don't know. I wasn't doing that sort of thing; you'll have to check with Bleys.

"Both of them were useful bad examples who helped his current majesty, since they had lowered the bar for princely conduct. I think they're both in far flung and long-forgotten graves by now."

"Well, Huon's card was cold, while Ysabeau's wasn't, for whatever that may be wroth. Still, no obvious thread of connection, there, to explain why Brand would have been keeping them, much less why they were kept separate from his main deck. My only speculation is that, at one time or another, they all fell onto the list of people whose disappearances would either not be noticed, or could not easily be traced back to Brand, after I grew legs and walked away. When did Ysabeau and Huon disappear?"

"Ysabeau not long after she came of age. Huon--I don't remember exactly. After Mirelle died, but before Corwin disappeared. His card was warm too," Caine says. "If it were as easy as touching fingertip to a card, we wouldn't have had half the trouble we've had these last few centuries."

"No doubt true," Brennan says, "But I'm hardly the expert on Trump tricks. What does the feel of it signify, if anything? The Trump status itself?"

Caine taps his steepled fingers for a moment before speaking. "There are no manuals, Brennan. I've seen ancient trumps of my deceased brothers and sisters that were still cold, and I was not willing to risk them. What if they worked? What if they didn't, and I couldn't release a contact? What if they acted a channel for something? What of their death curses?

"Trumps aren't toys. The foremost expert in the family, my brother who was most likely to experiment with Trump became a sociopathic megalomaniac who needed to be killed. It might have been coincidence or weakness, but we don't want to see another of those."

Brennan heroically keeps both his first and second comment to himself, and makes a mental note to ask Dworkin the same question, the next time he sees him.

"We already have one of those. Dara."

"Don't sell your father short, Brennan. Dara is a piker compared to him. She has the ambition, but not the capacity to carry it out, her little tantrum at Random's coronation notwithstanding. If she were serious, she'd have done more than issued a showy challenge. Brand didn't bother announcing he was going to knife his young highness before he embarked on his project to remake the universe. A real threat, like Brand, would use Dara to distract us while it came at us from a completely different direction." Caine smiles thinly.

"I've been assuming she had her own reasons for that bit of theatrics, which would make perfect sense from her alien viewpoint. It could have been a temper tantrum over what she found in the basement. It could be that all her gentler nature got placed into Merlin. But I'm not assuming either, because she is still, by all accounts, still the master of her forebear's Courts. I don't think being a fool is conducive to that sort of reign.

"Did you have someone in mind?"

"Have you noticed how many crises are pulling at our resources right now? They're probably not all connected, but it would be pretty unlikely that they were all unconnected."

"It would take a serious effort not to notice," Brennan drawls. "It also takes a serious effort to draw a good line between crises that affect the much or all of the Family, such as Dara and this Arcadian situation, and personal projects like my brother or Vere's home Shadow. What I haven't noticed, yet, is a pattern or evidence of a guiding hand behind it. Have you?"

"Not yet," Caine says, in a voice that suggests it's only a matter of time until he does. "But rest assured that when I do, I will act accordingly."

And really, that's all Brennan wanted-- an admission that Caine didn't know, either. "We wouldn't expect anything else, Uncle."


Before they go their separate ways, Caine tells Jovian the latest news in Amber.

- Vere is expected to arrive tomorrow morning, Thirstday.
- Brennan and Paige have returned from their successful expedition to rescue Brita, although Brita hasn't yet returned.
- Paige has her twins by Adonis with her.
- Martin, Folly, Lilly, and Celina have all departed for Xanadu.
- Apparently they took a boy named Garrett with them, who is apparently (and to Caine's amusement) Random's by-blow with a maid. The maid showed up demanding the return of her child and threw a tantrum outside Random's study, which he resolutely ignored, preferring to practice drumming very loudly.
- Solace has collapsed again, but she's recovering.
- Marius and Ossian have left on a quest of some sort with Aisling's affine, Ce'e.

Jovian's lost about a week Amber time.

Jovian receives the news with equanimity, only betraying a hint of intrigued amusement at the twins' birth and the faintest ripple of unease at the notion of Ce'e going off with Marius. In that mood he takes his leave, walking at a leisurely pace toward his quarters and conversing mentally with Canareth as he goes.


When he returns from his Arden excursion, Jovian finds among his correspondence a letter sealed with a swan stamp in purple wax.

Jovian --

I am sorry we hadn't more time to speak in person; but alas, I am traveling again -- I suspect we will be on our way by the time you return to the castle -- and am unsure when I will be returning to Amber.

But in these few moments before I depart, please allow me to offer my deepest condolences to you on the loss of our cousin Aisling. Though she engendered mixed and complex reactions in many of our kinsmen, know that even some of us who had not the privelege to fight by her side receive the news of her fate with heartfelt sorrow. I loved Aisling, and I grieve with you at her loss.

I suppose it will fall to her fellow Knights-Commander to decide how best to publically honor her memory; but if there is anything I can do, please do not hesitate to ask. Aisling was kinswoman and friend; and I would see her remembered in the city she loved.

If you have need of me, Random or Gerard will probably be able to get messages to me while I am out of Amber. Do take care of yourself in the meantime; I look forward to speaking with you in person again soon.

Sincerely and respectfully,
your kinswoman,
Folly


After many reassurances to the dragon that Jovian will indeed prevent such prolonged separations in the future, he finds himself in his rooms and sorting correspondence of importance from the trivia. Brennan's letter is not unexpected. Naturally the Rubies would have to keep each other updated, and in times like these expecting all the news to be good was a sport for fools.

And then there was the missive from Folly. That was unexpected. He hadn't had time to get to know Folly properly - a thing he regretted, now that she had gone on to Xanadu and he had a handful more days to prepare for the return to the Dannan. He unsealed the letter with a sort of wistful curiosity and began to read.

He sat down heavily.

He had known she was gone, had started the process of accepting it even without confirmation. So why did the confirmation hit so hard....

A span of time passed. He chose not to know its length.

With a deep, shuddering sigh he turned to his writing desk and took up the grooved glass stylus that he preferred over quills.

Windsday, 5th Coins

My dear cousin:

Your news is not entirely unexpected. My gratitude for your warm thoughts tempers a grief whose due I have no time now to give (and perhaps I never shall). For this I am in your debt.

Tomorrow Vere will have returned and I prepare for yet another battle - a thing I had hoped would not be a habit. I expect to return, but I would have you know what I intended in the event that I do not. I do not know what my brethren at arms will deem a fitting memorial. But there is a thing I wish to do on my own, and if you who loved her as well wish to join me in it, you are more than welcome.

I mean to find a small, quiet corner of land, a dekare or perhaps a bit less. There I wish to plant six trees of purple lilac, deep of color and subtle of scent, describing about two-thirds of a loose circle around a small reflecting pool, with a bench in the open side of the circle. Her color and her scent, and a reminder that each of us saw in her no more nor less than our own reflections. Nowhere will her name appear, nor a date, nor any pithy words. I do not think she would have wanted such. Those who need to understand will understand.

Upon my return I hope you can help me choose the right site to create this place. If I do not return, I hope you can create it on my behalf.

How I look forward to the settling of this business in my grandmother's country, that I may get to know the New City and her favorite bard. Until then, in deepest gratitude I remain

Your faithful and respectful kinsman,
Jovian

He read the letter over three or four times, and almost burned it two or three, before sanding, blotting and folding it to seal with wine-dark wax and his Ruby signet.

Fourteen and a quarter minutes later he knocked at the door of Random's office.

The secretary in the outer office seems to be missing, and Jovian can walk right up to the door unchallenged.

"'Sopen, and you better have beer and pizza!" The sound of wood on wood follows this. "And smokes!"

Jove opens the door and beholds the monarch of the One True Realm. "If I know you at all, chief, there'll be a jug of decent copper ale in the bottom of that closet and a spare box of those lovely Heerat cigars behind the books on the third shelf. You know, just in case," he ventures, exerting his will carefully but firmly on the surroundings.

"There could be. I like to hide tobacco and booze around the place to fool people into thinking they're manipulating probability in my office."

"Plain tobacco?" Jovian asks, his face falling a bit as he reached behind the row of books.

"Play the hand you've drawn, dragonrider."

"Don't think I can do this with pizza," the rider shrugs, drawing out the cigar box. "If it's here already we'd smell it. Little too improbable, if I understand it right," he concludes, offering Random the open box.

"So has Caine told you about the presents I brought you from Arden?"

"Oh, Yes, the blood flower. I heard about that more than once. It's nice to know it wasn't fatal to your brother. Where is it now? I'd like to see it."

Jovian's fleeting, unguarded reaction to the phrase "blood-flower" is complex and fascinating, but he covers it quickly by taking and fussing with a cigar. By the time he has it lit, it's as though nothing happened.

"Red Room," he says with a nod in that direction. "Three of them growing on a rock. No roots, just rising out of the spots of blood. More were growing in - I'd almost say on - a pond nearby. They look like ordinary lillies, but for a little flame where pistil and stamen ought to be."

The dragonman draws on his cigar, holding the smoke for a pleased moment. "I brought them in maybe four, five days after you left, two days after Aisling...." He trails off, looking away for a moment and then back. "I haven't looked back in on them today, but they had't changed any before I went down the hill to see Dad. It's still the same day for me, by the way," he adds, letting the time differential and all it implies sink in.

"But I wasn't actually thinking of the flowers just now. I was thinking of the slavers."

"Not in detail. Why don't you give me the poop on them?"

"For the full story you'd have to go to Dad or Robin," Jovian shrugs, "though I hear Reid knows a fair bit of background. Apparently there is, or was, a group trafficking in humans operating in Arden. Reid's prisoner was one of that lot. Daeon got hold of another of them, made some kind of religious convert out of him," he notes with a hint of distaste, pausing to draw on the cigar as if to mask the taste of the words in his mouth.

"Anyway, a bunch of the slavers were put out by this guy's getting religion. Half-dozen of them were chasing him down when Daeon and Robin both interrupted. Sent them up the hill for questioning, in various states of disrepair. I'm just in from handing them off to Caine."

"You know some days I just don't get people." Random shakes his head. "Slavers. And Religious Fanatics. Some days Dad makes sense." He sighs. "OK, so my plan is to let Caine give me a suggestion in a few days. Do you or your extended family whom you are representing by proxy have any interest in the welfare and treatment of slavers?"

"Uneasy sits the butt that bears the boss," Jove ruminates, puffing thoughtfully on the cigar. "My first reaction? Something to do with 'Nature, red in tooth and claw.' But you've known Dad and his sense of honor longer than I have. As long as they're made an example of, I think we can trust to the Crown's justice."

"While it might be satisfactory to serve them up to your larger friends, I don't think I want to set that precedent. We'd have nothing to use for an encore." He sighs. "OK, we'll run 'em through the courts. Paige can have them hanged."

Jovian nods at this, distractedly. There is perhaps a beat of awkwardness before he takes up again.

"I understand Vere is due in tomorrow," he reflects aloud. "He'll want to move out as soon as possible. Looks like I'll be missing the first tour of Xanadu."

"Yeah, the tour bus got a flat, or something. I sent an advance group over though. We are moving on the whole moving on thing."

Random pauses. "What are you going to do about your wounded flier?"

Jovian winces a bit. "I'd hoped to get Fiona to check M'corli's eyes. She agreed, but that was before Brita was taken. I hear she's safe - is Fi expected back in town?"

"There aren't that many siblings of mine who are likely to submit a flight plan with the Air Traffic Authority and Fiona isn't one of them. Want to call her?"

"Very much so," Jove nods. "A stop at the Trump Gallery is on my to-do list for the day."

"It sounds like you have your plans well in hand. Remind Vere that he has a raft of relatives who will want regular reports on his war, and that he's got royal permission not to take any help he doesn't want."


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Last modified: 1 January 2005