Boil Thou First i' the Charmed Pot


Solange walks along the wharf of Fair Isle with a purposeful stride. She'd parted with Vere and Robin not long ago, feeling much older than she did when she'd arrived--though not necessarily wiser, she adds wryly. There were the usual hugs and goodbyes and promises to keep safe and keep in touch, but Solange had been quiet and distracted throughout, her thoughts heavy with Ysabeau's words.

She suppresses those thoughts for the time being. It requires some effort, like trying to force shut a drawer that's piled too high with clothes, but she allows the wharf's distractions to hold her attention and that seems to mostly work. Sights...sounds...smells... Though this is shadow, a different world and a different culture, certain things remain the same--there's still the ships moored and sailors loading and unloading cargo and the clanging of waves against the pier and the pervading fishy smell of the sea.

Solange turns and starts down the pier, the gusting wind now blowing the incessant rain into her face. It doesn't much matter though, for she's already wet down to the skin--and chilled down to the bone. The Covent's Kiss is moored at the end, looming large and dark against the overcast sky. She picks up her pace, stepping nimbly on the rain-slick boards, her thoughts now turned toward both the anticipation of seeing her foster father again and of donning warm, dry clothes.

Worth greets her at the rail, and gives her a hug. He's pleased to see her, and even more pleased that they don't have to sail at the speed of dragons back home.

[Do you have any agenda while at sea, or is it a straight shot? Are you going to attempt to lay a shadow path?]

[No agenda per se, Solange will try to convince Worth that Xanadu is a better place to head for than Amber, no shadow paths from the Isles to Xanadu--don't want anything from the Isles _escaping_.]

Solange returns the hug heartily. She's very glad to see him safe and sound and looking forward to time spent together over the next few days catching up on all the news. She'll tell him all about her travels in shadow (except the trip with Lucas) and what she knows of Xanadu.

Worth will go wherever she suggests. He asks her if there are any goods that Xanadu might need that the ship could bring with them. If so, he'll ask her to direct him to shadows where those are plentiful.

Solange doesn't know particular goods that are needed but explains that Xanadu is growing, so it would presumably have a need for general supplies such as building materials, foodstuffs, cloth, and tools. She will direct the ship to ports along the way that will provide those sort of supplies.

Wanting to hone her pattern skills, Solange will also try an experiment: she will establish her desire as "What does Xanadu need?" and shift toward said desire to see what happens.

She can't tell if that does anything or not. She gets to a port this way, but they provide lots of goods and it's not clear which ones are "what Xanadu needs". Still, Worth has the purser buy some things.

He's definitely in his element conning a sailing ship. He's busy, but seems happy.

That's wonderful news to Solange--she worried about Papa after Mama and Matthew died. Now she can let that worry slip and concentrate on Gerard.

It is on the third day out from the Isles that Solange hears the crew talking about the possibility of either a spirit aboard or a stowaway.

She questions the crew and asks about particulars, especially why they think it might be a spirit. (After her recent experiences in the Isles and with Floaty Woman, the mention of a spirit makes her a tad nervous.)

On the other hand, it's a confined ship--surely if they had a stowaway he or she would be discovered upon a detailed search. She orders the search.

About an hour later, the bosun brings a lad before Solange. "Found 'em in the hold. Shall we press him?"

[OOC: Can you describe said lad? How old, for instance?]

Maybe 14 summers. Old enough to be economically self-sufficient in an agrarian/muscle-powered shadow, young enough not to be married.

Ah, the opportunity to play good cop and bad cop again... She remembers the last time she did this with Ossian--good cop was easier for her than bad cop.

"Let's see what he has to say first," she replies, eyeing the stowaway with some amusement. "Start talking, kid."

The young man has some bravado left, but it seems a thin veneer. "My Lady? It is as they say. I am a stowaway. I fled the war in my homeland and heard you were to sail away, never to return."

"I hope you don't have an aversion to working hard to pay for your passage 'cause it's a long swim to dry land. What's your name?"

"Dewbright, M'Lady," he says, promptly. "I cannot swim," he adds.

Solange raises her eyebrows. "Yet you sail with us anyway? Either you're very brave, or very foolish. Perhaps both."

She looks up at the men. "Search the boy, then take him to the bosun and have him set him to work--more economical to get work out of Dewbright than having him sit useless in the brig. Also, inform Captain Worth that you found a stowaway."

The one set of sailors leads the boy off. The man she sent to the captain returns a bit later. "Captain's compliments, ma'am. He thanks you for dealing with the stowaway and said to tell you 'Any boy who's man enough to leave that nest of vipers is welcome on my crew, if he's willing to work.' I told him that's what you did w' him."

Coming from the south, the falls are audible before they can be seen, although if the clearing that's happening on the south shore continues, that may not be true forever.

The bosun wants to know what to do with the stowaway.

Solange shrugs, wondering why the bosun is coming to her and not Worth. "Was he a hard worker? Offer the boy a job. If you didn't like him then send him on his way--there will be plenty of opportunities for him to find work in Xanadu."

The bosun nods and takes his leave.

She says her goodbyes to Worth, disembarks, and returns to the castle seeking Hannah and/or her father.

At the castle, she is told that Hannah was last seen heading to Gerard's suite.


Hannah returns to the castle - straight to the kitchens, and food. She washes her hands and starts gnawing her way through some fruit, while pulling from her pack the packets of flowers she picked at the beginning of the spirit journey.

A few apples later, she sips at a glass of water and breaks off pennywort leaves into a pile. The marigolds are cleaned, but left whole. When she has double the bitter marigold, she goes over to dig around the icebox. She opens and smells containers, using a spoon to scoop from a few and rub the food between her fingers. She settles on a butter she doesn't exactly recognize, but should suit. She experiments with the stove until she's satisfied she understands its game. Into a pot goes a half cup of the butter. She melts it slowly, breaking the marigolds into thirds and tossing them in as she goes. She stirs it slowly, delighting in the familiar smell.

When the marigolds have surrendered to the butter and no longer resemble their given form, she dumps in all the pennywort leaves. She turns up the heat until the mixture foams, and then takes it off the stove, covering it. She lets it sit, searching around for a cloth, and some olive oil. The olive oil is measured out into a smaller container, and it, the cloth, and another apple are put in her pack, slung back on her shoulder.

Hannah wipes up after herself and picks up the pot's handle. She carefully transports this up to the infirmary, where she inquires after Gerard.

She is directed to Gerard's suite. Apparently he has just returned from a trip abroad.

She grabs a glass jar and cap from the infirmary, and heads out. She knocks at Gerard's door, pot still in hand.

Hannah is bid enter. Gerard is sitting in his wheelchair, which seems a bit worse for wear, in the living room of the spacious suite. "Hannah," he says. "Come in, sit down."

She does, setting the pot and then the pack on the floor. "What have you been up to? Shall I rub your shoulders out?" she offers.

Gerard gives Hannah a bit of an odd look--there are lines of propriety that she has probably crossed there, but Gerard seems to decide to take it in stride--but nods his agreement to the proposition. "Aye," he says "if ye would. Solange was in Amber and she needed my help to bring a fleet here to Xanadu. Now she's gone off the Isles to deal with some family business with Vere. She should be home, or at least here, soon."

Hannah nods and stretches. She gets up and moves behind Gerard. Without commenting on Solange's ongoing logistics, she starts up under the hairline with strong fingerpads. "It helps with the pain, and if you haven't figured that out by now, you're about to. And if you don't find it something you need to add to your bag, I'm going to call you a fuddy-duddy. Big threat, that," she laughs.

"So, were you able to hold your medication levels stable while on the sea? Through shadow?" she asks.

"It's been creeping back up. The work helped, but we argued, and that didn't." Gerard scowls a bit at that thought.

"Well, you know what to avoid then." Something unsaid passes in silence. Then, "It's good that you were able to work and control it, but I hope you'll try to find work here instead of traveling through shadow. There are too many variables out there, and what you need right now is stability."

Gerard mutters rebelliously, "What I need is for me daughter and son not to go dabbling in raising the dead and other things best left undisturbed."

Hannah's hands flatten against Gerard's back as she takes a deep breath. It takes her a moment before she can release it. Her hands move comfortingly over his shoulders - perhaps for her own comfort more than his. "I can understand why that'd upset you. Do you know what made them think this was a good idea?"

"He canna get the answers to his questions any other way, he says." Gerard shakes his head. "And what question would be worth disturbing the dead in their rest? We dinna need to tamper with thing we dinna understand."

"Well, I like to tamper, but I do think it's... wrong to... well, I think there are certain ways you ask ancestors for guidance - and one must be very careful about it. And even then... you might get the answer they want to give, not the one you need. Death doesn't bring wisdom, I don't think," Hannah sighs.

"Not in me sister's case," Gerard mutters mutinously, almost under his breath.

She reaches down to cup Gerard's right elbow and lift it up over his head. "And thus, I really don't care for going to ancestors, at least the dead ones, for too much. It really should be a life and death, last ditch effort." She tilts her hips so she can reach her left hand between Gerard's arm and neck. "But... if it was. No one's asking for our opinions anyway, are they?"

She uses a little more strength to loosen the front of the shoulder girdle, though she's very careful about it. "Musculus subscapularis. Sounds like it should be the name of some emperor. I tend to make up scientific names for anything I didn't know the latin for - even people. 'Rex Nox,' for the night chiefs. You're Quietus Orson, which is a little with the francais, but I can so I will," she smiles.

"We should hire someone to come do massage for you every day. If these muscles get too tight, they could start pulling on your thoracic spine. And it does help distract from the pain."

"Not so many are strong enow to make it work. Why Orson?" Gerard asks, but he sounds a little less tense.

"Oh, the french people who live north of us call bear cubs so. And some of their boys too," she smiles, stretching and pressing at the joint. "And I suspect I haven't seen a tenth of your temper. Yet we can't ignore the problems. Your children are going to create tension in your life. That's what children do. My question is, would you have handled it any differently if you were not in this chair?"

She moves to switch arms, setting his right down gently.

Gerard looks at her. "If I weren't in this chair, my son wouldn't be in this fix, because I'd've handled the problems that led to this. If not the war in the Isles, for sure I'd nae have let my brother's son rip a hole in the shadow."

"Wouldn't you have had to leave Amber during your Regency to do that? I was under the impression Random was newly crowned, and it was you held it all together," Hannah asks. She lifts his left arm, which will encourage him to face forward again and put his spine back into the line she likes. She starts the same work on the left.

"Random was crowned after. I held my Regency from Dad, before he died," Gerard corrects Hannah. "And if I'd'a been able to walk, I could've gone for a few days and shown my face, and that would have changed things even if I'd not stayed."

"They are lucky, Gerard, that they have you here for the advice. A step, what, to the left... and they would have been struggling through this without your words being there to ignore. The comfort of ignoring the advice of those we love is immeasurable. I miss ignoring my father's more than anything," Hannah sighs. "So much I sometimes make some up in my head just so I can then ignore it, and that's just sad. Children have to find their own way, even the hard way, or they get lost in their own lives.

"That sounds trite but I mean it. They're being dumb. You can't fix this for them. Maybe Vere doing this without you is what makes him a man in his own right."

"It's not them I need to fix it for. It's the people," Gerard explains. "To them, we're gods. And if the shadow is broken and it canna be fixed, they might die. They'll lose their homes. They've already lost sae much to war, and now to lose more because three youngsters are meddling with things they canna control?" He shakes his head. "That's a high price on his manhood."

Hannah very quietly says, "Sometimes, it's like hearing my own father coming through your lips."

There is another sigh, but she never stops working loose the knots in his shoulder. "I bet he loves them as much as you do. I bet you taught him that. I bet he makes good, Gerard, some way."

Hannah comes around front, setting his arm back down. She tilts his head a little to the left and starts working with fingertips under the collarbone. She closes her eyes as she feels for problems. "There is the sacredness of place, and the sacredness of the people. Sometimes you have to chose between the two - and what's the place if there are no people left? I... it's always made me crazy that I can't ease minds like I can muscles. The honest truth is I don't think we'll get you walking again in time for you to fix this for the people. You're going to have to trust Vere, or keep on grinding your teeth."

"Fortunately teeth grow back." Gerard sounds a bit less testy than before.

"It's not the sacredness of the place, or not that alone. It's the way it's broken. There's a rain in the Mother's city, and it won't stop. Eventually it'll drown the Isles, and the western continent in the end if we don't stop it. If I canna go back to the Isles soon, there'll be no Isles to go back to."

"You know how to heal a place, then?" she asks, genuinely curious. She tilts his head the other way and starts working the right.

Gerard has to stop and think about that. "I know ways to try better than Vere. If 'twere the Pattern that broke it, that's the best way to fix it. And I've centuries more experience than Vere with it."

"How many places have you tried to fix with Pattern?" Hannah asks with only a hint of incredulity.

"Not so many, but we normally don't break them that way either, do we?" Gerard explains. "But either way, I've centuries more experience with using the Pattern than Vere, who took it--" he stops to think "--months, mebbe weeks, ago."

Hannah pulls her hands back and sighs. "I don't know how to say this without being blunt, and I've always thought you deserved my honestly. So here it is: how could we possibly use pattern to fix a world when we haven't figured out how to use it to fix your injuries? Is there something you're not telling me?"

"A shadow doesn't have to walk the Pattern to be fixed," Gerard says. "That's what makes my legs so hard. Between shadows, things change. You saw how things were in the place where we went to the hospital? A lot of those objects--machines--wouldn't work in Amber, and probably a lot won't work here in Xanadu. The bomb wouldn't have worked in Amber of old. It wouldna have blown up. So a thing that works in shadow may not work in Amber, and sometimes, vice versa, depending on the strangeness of the shadow--which can be very strange as we go out."

Gerard gestures off in some direction as if to illustrate that 'out'.

"Now I can go any of those places if I walk in Shadow, and all of them are full of danger. If I have to hellride because I'm in danger and I get somewhere I can't walk, what then?"

"I see what you're saying, but it does make me wonder if the whole concept of Pattern-healing is something I left off the table at the beginning just because you said so. Maybe there is something to do with it. Maybe it's just a piece of the puzzle. I can be so methodical..." Hannah sighs. "But I still do think we have to get you off the morphine first."

She chases this with a smile. "And I think you're doing pretty well with that, considering. Am I wrong? Is it much more horrible than you're letting on?"

Gerard manages to somehow shrink in his seat, which is quite a feat for a man of his size. "I fell off the wagon a bit while I was on the boat," he confesses. "Needed my head clear for shifting the fleet to Xanadu and showing Solange how to lay paths."

Hannah looks sympathetic and disappointed at the same time. "Well, you will make these choices, Gerard. I hope you're considering the costs verses the benefits when you make them. I, for one, believe you have done your part for the Kingdoms and the family, and your duty now is to heal as much as possible."

"Mayhap I shouldna have gone," he grumbles. "But I'm tired of being baggage."

"Do you think you can't be in Xanadu without being baggage? I'm sure there is work enough to be done in the city. There are challenges there, but you can lift a number of them out of your way," Hannah smiles. "And it won't hurt you to deal with challenges your strength can't answer. Much."

"I've dealt with them for six years now. Not so long when you compare what came before and what's to come after." Gerard scowls. "But there's so much to be done that only my brothers and I can do. Not a one of my nieces and nephews can reliably lay a path. We needed to do it after the Sundering. I suppose it's just as well we couldn't, because we'd have to do all that work over again for Xanadu."

"I'm glad you're seeing the bright side of things," Hannah smiles. "And your brothers can do that stuff until you can do it without messing up your medication. Do you agree?"

"Unless there's an emergency, yes." Gerard's tone takes on a certain exasperated sulkiness.

Hannah stands up and runs her hands through her hair. "Gerard, this is your life. You should make the decisions you think are best for you. I'm going to give you my opinions, I'm going to try to win you over to my side, but in the end, there is no way you're getting off this morphine unless you mean to do it. You're stubborn enough to do it, but if it's not what you want - we'll skip it and work on something else. You know your chances of it killing you in the meantime as good as I do."

"Or am I just being too patient with you? Would it help if I was meaner?" she asks.

"What would help is it being fifteen or twenty years ago, when Dad was here to hold us all in line, and there weren't sae many bloody crises. Of course, if Dad were still alive, I'd not need to get off the damned morphine because I'd have done it by now or be dead, I reckon." Gerard's fingers flex around the wheel of the chair and Hannah can see he's restraining his great strength to keep from damaging it.

Hannah reaches over for a pillow, and hands it to Gerard. "Here, squeeze this. Better feathers than splinters. Tell me how reasonable it is for me to actually expect you to stay here, or in... Paris. Give me a percentage."

Gerard takes the pillow in his meaty fist but it doesn't seem to evoke the need to grab the way the wheelchair did. "How am I supposed to know what's going to happen next, Hannah? I'll stay here if I can, but this place wasn't even here to stay at a year ago. What if there's another war? What if the Moonriders show up? It's all 50-50. Either we will or we won't."

"50%. Could be worse," Hannah says dryly, and sits. "What are the Moonriders? Not... like bandits, are they? Because that's a bandit name, right there."

"Something like bandits. Armed riders. They sacked Amber once, years ago. Benedict met them at Jones Falls and beat them, and they never returned. But the Marshall, who leads 'em, was at Dad's funeral, or so I'm told. And he met up with Bleys and Brennan as they were scouting on their way back to Amber. They're connected to Tir somehow."

Gerard gestures toward the window and by implication at the city down the hill. "What about those people, if raiders come here?"

"We fight Gerard, these people fight. How nice, to be in a place where fighting's even an option!" Hannah opines, gesturing in frustration. "You can command just as well. You've got your mind in full form, sir. The place, from what I'm told, answers to whatever whims Random's given it. I'd say we have the advantage, if they come here. And it's not all on your head, though you are a good man and an elder and a warrior, and my uncle. You give your piece, everyone else gives theirs, and we win or lose together."

There's a knock at the door and Solange steps into the room. "Hello," she says, smiling. "Father, I just wanted to let you know I was back. And to ask Hannah a question."

Gerard breaks out in a huge grin. "Solange! You're back." He's holding a pillow, which he drops to extend his arms to Solange for a hug.

Solange crosses the room to him. She lets herself be encircled by his strong arms, returns the hug, and kisses him on the cheek before standing up again.

Hannah smiles as they disengage. "Welcome back."

"Thank you." Solange's gaze lingers on Hannah a brief moment, speculative, before she turns back to Gerard. "Father, Vere and Robin are fine and send their love. I brought Papa and his ship back with me from the Isles--Vere and Robin have decided to lead the people of the Isles away to a new home."

Hannah's eyes widen in surprise and then her brow wrinkles in dismay before she can stop herself. She bites down on her gasp.

Solange glances at her sharply.

Gerard's shoulders slump a bit and his eyes widen. Clearly this was not the news he expected. "I see," he says. "Where are they taking them? Do ye know?"

Hannah's face goes blank as she watches Solange.

"I believe Vere was thinking somewhere near Rebma. Ysabeau told us that the Isles were doomed and entreated them to leave. They believe they have no choice." Solange gaze travels back to Hannah. "Are you all right?"

"Moving large populations of people can be... very difficult, especially if those people believe they are attached to the land. I hope they'll plan for those who choose to stay," Hannah says carefully.

Gerard's lips move soundlessly. Ysabeau said? But he doesn't interrupt Hannah and Solange. Instead, he looks to see how Solange will answer Hannah's implicit question.

"Plan how? I don't think Vere or Robin are going to force anyone to leave, and I don't think they're going to change the land or anything for those that choose to stay," Solange replies. "Kinda like Amber and Xanadu." Not having gone through a forced evacuation herself--moving from Amber to Xanadu the royal way doesn't really qualify--she doesn't understand Hannah's reaction.

"Plan so that those left are only doomed by the existing doom, and not by their abandonement," Hannah tries to explain.

Solange doubts if this will be a priority for her brother and sister--their focus will be on those that they take with them. She shrugs.

Hannah's eyes slip over to Gerard, her expression remaining very controlled.

"Do you know your father's name?" Solange asks Hannah, changing the subject abruptly.

Hannah looks taken aback before she grins. "All of his names, yes."

Solange's return smile is subdued. "Was Iron Eye one of them?"

"Es-ta-mah-za, yes, which means something like Iron Eye. Did you hear my father's name from," Hannah clears her throat, "Ysabeau, Solange?"

"Yes," Solange replies. Her eyes slip to the middle distance between them, unfocused, and a pained expression passes over her face and is gone. "How long have you known?" she continues, returning her gaze to Hannah's face.

Hannah sighs. "I still don't know, Solange. I know what I saw when I journied the Pattern, but that is evidence, not proof. As a dead woman's word is evidence, not proof. What did she say?"

Solange pauses. "She told Robin and me that we have a sister--we were keeping the knowledge that Robin and I are Ysabeau's daughters on a need-to-know basis, but it hardly seems to matter anymore." Her gaze flicks to Gerard's face, then back to Hannah. "Ysabeau also said that of all her lovers, Iron Eye was the only one that had the heart to raise a daughter of the blood. That was all the information we got concerning a sister."

Hannah holds her expression together mere seconds in the silence that follows. Then tears fill her eyes and the strain is clear in her voice. "And the strength to hold a family and people together when their daughter and spiritual leader just disappears... we hope. We hope there is a ghostly cloven hoofprint - some sign he'll know. Well, Solange, let me call you sister, and we'll speak truths to each other - even when it hurts." Hannah wipes her face and takes a deep breath. "But we can do that later. You came to see Gerard. I should let you do that."

Solange crosses over to Hannah and hugs her. "Don't go--my sister." She smiles and kisses Hannah on the forehead. "We'll speak truths to each other, always, even when it hurts."

Hannah cracks a bit of a grin. "All right, Solange."

Gerard has silently watched the entire exchange. None of this seems to be a surprise to him.

"Stay on, Hannah. There's much that needs to be said. I wish Julian and Robin were here as well, because there's plain speaking needed among us all. Even when it hurts."

Hannah nods, and sits back down, moving the concoction in the pot aside so Solange can sit too.

"What is it, Father?" Solange prompts, taking a seat beside Hannah.

"The first thing is you telling me all of what happened when you spoke to your mother's shade," Gerard says in a tone that brooks no argument.

A shadow passes over Solange's features. She pauses a moment to remember the exact words before replying. "The land turns a bitter face to the goddess and will devour her children from spite. The serpent awakens and when it has swallowed its tail fully, there will be none left to serve the living godhead. To save the Children of Danu you must lead them elsewhere. The wars of my forefathers have once again made them need refuge.

"That last part she said to Robin," Solange adds, excluding herself. "Those were the pertinent bits."

Gerard breathes in and out. "That's not all of what happened, is it? How did Vere raise her shade?" He fixes his daughter with a steely gaze.

"With song," Solange answers, wondering why it's important. She averts her gaze. "He held something that once belonged to her--her trump deck--and sang her back to us."

Gerard glances at Hannah to gauge her reaction. "Tell us the whole story, from start to finish. It's important." He leans forward in his wheelchair a bit, insofar as he can with his spinal damage.

Hannah actually looks slightly relieved at the singing revelation.

As Gerard leans forward Solange leans back, somewhat alarmed. "I've already told you the pertinent bits," she states, not looking at his face. "Why is it so important?"

"Calling ancestors is tricky business, Solange. You don't just awaken them, but you awaken the memory of them for the family. What other contact can we ever have, than this, your story? It's all we get. And we need to know how she rests for our own comfort. Do you understand?" Hannah asks.

Gerard nods. "Aye, there's that. And there's other things to think of as well. Your mother was a Princess of Amber, with all that implies. And she was not always wise. I think your brother was wrong to raise her, as well ye know. There's nothing easy in this, Solange. So I want to know everything."

Solange sighs and her mouth works. It's clear she doesn't want to talk about this and a moment more before she speaks.

"It wasn't...what I was expecting. I don't know what I was expecting exactly--maybe some recognition that we were her daughters beyond the purely perfunctory, maybe some explanation as to why she conceived me when she knew it would kill her." Her expression turns cross. "But no, she didn't die, she said she's dispersed. Now what the hell does that mean? She said that you eventually do what the godhead wants, and that's why she had me." Solange's voice raises. "But that's bullshit. She was a princess of Amber and she could choose her own destiny. She chose to have me and then chose to leave. She chose to think of me as nothing more than a spiritual obligation, chose to think of my biological father as nothing more than a 'tool for the godhead'!"

Solange pushes herself up from her seat and heads for the door. "Every. Frigging. Thing. In threes," she snarls.

"Don't run away, Solange," Hannah says firmly, but there is a quiet judgement behind it.

Gerard waits to see what Solange will do.

Solange pauses, the line of her shoulders tense. "She rests happy. She was singing as she left. That's what you wanted to know?"

"I believe what Gerard wants to know is the detail of the entire event, from beginning to end," Hannah sighs. "What I want to know is what you're afraid of. Why is it so hard?"

"I know what Father wants to know," Solange replies, still not turning around. "The...event...involved a lot of yelling--mostly on my part--and was overall a quite unpleasant affair. It was also a private affair. For those reasons I have no strong desire to rehash every little detail."

Hannah turns to look at Gerard. She holds her hands out. She's got nothing else.

Gerard shakes his head at Hannah. He looks less angry than sad.

"If ye need to go, Solange, go. But wanting yer mother to be a certain way did me no good, and it'll do ye none either. People are what they are, even when they disappoint you. And whether ye call it dead or dispersed, Ysabeau is but a shade. She holds no answers. The only answers to what ye be are those ye make yerself."

A small sigh escapes Solange's lips. "I'm sorry." She wipes angrily at her face and leaves.

Hannah turns to watch her go, then turns back to Gerard. "Shall I follow her or do you think she needs some time?"

"Go on. She needs you right now more than I do," Gerard says, and waves Hannah on to follow Solange.

Hannah grins. "Do me a favor, when you head down to the infirmary later, drop off my pot here," she motions, and makes to chase down Solange.

"Consider it done," Gerard calls after her.


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Last modified: 13 May 2008