Two hours after his meeting with Colonel Woodman, René Deadzone translocated to Sorret to discuss that meeting's topic with his former master, over lunch, before heading back to Near Port. Twenty-two hours after his meeting with Woodman, he translocated to the private office of King Demos Royal, in First Village.

"Good morning, Your Majesty," he said. "Thank you on behalf of both myself and Colonel Woodman for agreeing to take this meeting, particularly so early."

"Quite alright, Mr. Deadzone. It's just an hour before my work day officially begins, and in the years before I attained my current position, I frequently got an earlier start than this. In fact, normally at this hour, I'd be enjoying a walk about the palace grounds. The legs like a bit of exercise, before settling in for a long day of sitting, you know. Now then, what precisely was it you wished to speak with me about? Charles said it was a matter of some urgency, when he called last night."

"Yes. Well, as you know, both Marshal Primus and Commissioner Gothic have recently been trying to find evidence they can use against the colonel, in regards to both the Chaos debacle and the Cabal in general..."

"In fact, Primus has been trying to find evidence of the Cabal's existence for at least a few months, now," said Demos. "Thus far he's been unsuccessful, and I hardly think the Chaos matter is likely to change that."

"Perhaps. But the colonel has begun to fear that the Cabal would be willing to sacrifice him, should such action become necessary to protect the organization's secrecy. Better that Primus and Gothic should believe he acted alone, than that the Cabal truly exists."

"If that happens, I'll feel bad for him. It's quite reasonable to expect help from his allies in the Cabal. But at the same time, surely he understands that his present circumstances exist because of actions he took without the previous consent of the Cabal."

"Indeed he does, which is why he's avoided asking for any protection that might risk the exposure of the Cabal. That is, until yesterday morning, when he was contacted by an agent of Macen Illustri's spy network. You see, the last time he'd heard from Macen was early on the morning of the Chaos's escape, three days ago. Macen reported that he and Zeke Sanguine would be confronting one of the rebels, whose location had been learned by another of his agents. Since that time, Colonel Woodman has been deeply concerned by the failure of Macen or Zeke to make further reports, and has spent as much time as his schedule has allowed to try to locate either of them. But yesterday morning, he was informed by one of Macen's agents that both of them had been killed."

Demos's expression turned grave, and he was silent for a few moments before responding, "I see. Disturbing news, indeed. Though surely it could only be the rebels who are responsible for their deaths. That being the case, I should think the police would turn against them, rather than trying to prove their innocence in the matter of their alleged rebellion."

René felt a moment's annoyance at the king's eagerness to find a bright side to the death of his friend, Zeke, as well as an invaluable ally such as Macen Illustri. But he pushed his anger aside, knowing that such reasoning was necessary, in a situation as complicated as this. In fact, it was a point he'd been about to make, himself. "The problem is, their bodies have not been found. So there's no way to accuse the rebels of murder, when there's no proof that a murder has even occurred."

"Couldn't you divine for the bodies? Surely you have genetic files on both of them."

"I've tried that, to no avail. Either the bodies have been cremated, or someone is cloaking them magically. But the point the colonel wanted me to impress upon you is that the agent who contacted him seems to think their deaths are being covered up by the Cabal itself. Woodman is concerned that if the spy is right, and the Cabal is hiding the bodies... then he's obviously out of the loop. It could be that the higher-ups want the authorities to keep investigating him, which would be less likely if they were suddenly distracted by a double-homicide that makes his earlier actions against the Chaos seem justified."

"Ah, I see. I rather doubt there's any validity to the spy's concern; the Chaos have a Sorreter among them, so it seems far more likely they disposed of the bodies. Still, if there's any chance that someone in the Cabal is covering up the murders, and not informing the rest of us... that would be most disturbing." After a brief pause, he added, "By the way, it occurs to me that you were probably close to both of them. If I seem more concerned with the larger implications of their deaths than with the deaths in and of themselves, I do apologize. You have my condolences."

Demos's words surprised René. "I... thank you, your majesty."

"Of course. I met Macen several times, myself. I'm a friend of his father's, you know. He was a fine young man, and he will be missed." Suddenly, Demos's brow furrowed. "But now that I think of it, the spy might be right. I had wondered whether whoever tipped off Darkstrider about the connection between Lucrezia Nearwright and Seth Manager was a member of the Cabal. If so-"

"But why would you think that?"

"Ah. Supposedly, not all of the senior members are aware of the identities of every other member, but I'm sure most of them have their guesses. And I would imagine junior members such as yourself know considerably less than any senior member does. The only person who knows them all for a certainty is Mr. Yellow, but I've done my own research, and I'd say my guesses are, well, better-educated than most. I'm reasonably confident that I know who all of the main twelve are, not to mention a good number of the mid-level members. Nearwright and Manager are among those I believe to be senior members. It is of course quite possible that the connection was uncovered by someone who even now isn't aware of the Cabal's existence, but if someone within the Cabal knew their identities, and had a grudge either against them personally or the Cabal in general... that would have deeply unsettling implications. And it occurred to me a centhour ago that if a Cabalist is covering up the deaths, it might be the same person who tipped off Darkstrider. The two incidents could be part of a larger plan, and not one solely focused against Colonel Woodman."

"Hmm. I'll relay this theory to the colonel. But back to what he sent me here to discuss. He wanted me to ask you, what is the point of having power if one isn't free to use it?"

"That sounds rhetorical, and if I recall, he made a similar point during the meeting he called immediately after his capture of the Chaos, a few months ago."

"At the time, he was speaking of the Cabal as a whole. Today, the question is issued specifically in relation to you. You are ostensibly the most powerful person in the world, and yet your powers are far from those of a true king. For all your talk during the first election of Märchen from ancient Earth, your actual position isn't much at all like the kings of medieval fantasy, or even of the reality of a certain era on that world. It's more like the position of rulers from a much later era, whose own powers were far from absolute." Deadzone couldn't help but chuckle. "On a personal side note, I've always found your name rather an amusing coincidence; your given name, I mean. Your chosen surname makes for more of an amusing contrast to that. Demos Royal-"

"Yes, that's never been lost on me, you needn't belabor it," said Demos with a hint of irritation. "In fact, democracy is itself far more ancient than you give it credit for, and our own world is far from unique in the concept of elected royalty. Trust me, I've studied the subject probably more thoroughly than anyone else on the Land ever has, and I've long since tired of it."

"I apologize for my digression. Anyway, the colonel is aware that Mr. Yellow has given you assurances of the Cabal's support for your whole 'king for life' idea, if and when such support should become necessary. But if they're too scared to support one of their own in his time of need, what are the odds that they'll actually support you, considering you're not technically a member of the Cabal? Woodman believes that Mr. Yellow's tendency toward caution in all matters was once prudent, but given the fact that certain circumstances which are beyond our control have recently begun to evolve faster than we had previously anticipated, that very caution has become a danger to us all. Unfortunately, fear of discovery has made most Cabalists even more cautious, at the very time it is essential that we act more swiftly and boldly than ever. Which brings me back to the original point: Why are you so eager to remain king, if the position doesn't grant you the power to take matters into your own hands? It is the colonel's hope that you will use your authority to maneuver events in such a way that the Cabal will be forced to keep the promises it made you. It's a dangerous game, but it's the only chance we have of survival. And by 'we,' I mean not only Woodman and the Cabal, but you as well. It's looking less and less likely that you'll win the election, and if our enemies are successful, we won't be around to make your dream a reality. And from what we've heard, it's a goal you've been working toward for a long time."

"Indeed. It was soon after Xander first informed me of the Cabal's existence, back in 904, that I began contemplating the possibility that the monarchy might someday be made a more permanent position. To be honest, it was actually more than twenty years before that, that I first- But no. That's a story for another time. Whatever was in my head way back then may have influenced my thoughts in 904, to some degree, but it was definitely in 904 that I first considered what fun it might be to be king for life. And it has taken these last eight years to shepherd world events along a path that might actually make that possible. It's been a tricky path, I assure you, and after all my hard work and careful planning, I don't want anyone- not the Chaos, not Supprus or Primus or Gothic, not even the Cabal- to jeopardize my goal, now that it is finally within reach. But as you said, it's a dangerous game, and I'm not sure what Woodman expects me to do. I cannot afford to overstep my bounds, just yet."

Deadzone's lips slowly twisted into a devilish grin. "And he's not asking you to. The colonel merely suggests you ask yourself whether you can think of anyone else who may have overstepped their bounds, in the last few days." With these final words, the Sorreter bowed respectfully, and vanished.

Tom had called Benj on Penul'day evening, and made plans to meet the next evening. The talent show Alec had read about would be starting at Third Four, in a nightclub called Whist. However, Tom asked to meet Benj a half hour earlier, in a nearby park, to discuss exactly what it was he wanted to thank him for. He said it was a matter he wished to discuss neither via t-mail, nor in a club where other patrons might overhear their conversation.

That still left the majority of We'yetday wide open, and no one was quite sure what to do with their time, until leaving for the show. In the morning, Darius said he thought someday soon they should go get the wagon they'd left in the cave three months ago, and fly it back to Triscot. "Though of course," he added, "we should let the police know where we're going before doing so."

"If we're not going to be adventuring together anymore," said Tom, "do we really even need it?"

"Don't forget," said Darius, "the Band lost their own wagon back in Tonad. I think it's only fair that they should keep the one LandOrder gave us, as a replacement."

Tiejo exclaimed, "Ooh, ooh! Wondering I have been, actually, if Cameron is having enough chakra to just translocate the whole wagon here, instead of flying it?"

Cameron replied, "I'm fairly sure I could do that, but for the same reason I haven't left this place in the last few days, I don't want to expend all of the excess chakra I stored up, just yet. I can't stay here forever, and when I do leave, I want to be ready to deal with Durell or his people, when they inevitably find me."

"Is this whole 'living mana battery' thing really healthy?" asked Emma with some concern.

Cameron sighed. "Not exactly. I can't hold it in forever. For now, it's been making sleep next to impossible; I've had to cast soporific spells on myself each night since we got here. But in the long run, all that chakra could begin to have more dangerous effects on my system than sleep deprivation."

"Well," said Darius, "I was rather hoping you'd join the rest of us when we go to the show tonight. Surely Durell wouldn't attack you in full view of the public. But if he does... maybe it would be for the best to get it over with sooner rather than later. When he strikes, you strike back harder, and get the chakra out of your system, before it starts doing you real harm."

Tino grinned. "Yeah, it's always best to get unpleasant things out of the way quickly. Like ripping off a Band-Aid." Everyone turned to stare at him in confusion. "Oh, right, you don't have that expression on this planet. Sorry." Though the fact that his grin widened suggested he probably wasn't really sorry at all.

"Well, at least that's one mystery we'll never have to wonder about again," said Ginger. "Why you're always making jokes that make no sense to anyone but yourself."

"You think you'll still love me, now that I've lost some of my mystique?"

"Time will tell," she replied with a grin of her own.

"Anyway," said Cameron, "the problem is, I would expect Durell to have an auto-divination spell in effect, which would alert him as soon as I appear outside the protective anti-magic field. Which would be just outside the Lonewander estate. When that happened, I'm sure he'd realize that any number of people could be hiding here, besides just me. And I wouldn't want to put Darius's family in danger."

"Couldn't you just cast a personal anti-divination spell over yourself?" asked Darius.

"Perhaps. But there's no guarantee it would be more powerful than the spell Durell is using. He could very well be augmenting it with a mana generator."

"Maybe it'd at least hold long enough for you to get away from the immediate vicinity. You could translocate yourself away from here as soon as you were past the field. Possibly to the police station. I don't think he has any of our genetic material, so I could call ahead and explain to them why you're about to show up there. I'm sure they'd love a chance to help you temporarily elude Durell, if it meant they might later use you as bait to catch him breaking the law by trying to abduct you."

Cameron smiled at that idea. "I like the sound of that, but I think if I translocated anywhere, it would be back to the Protestant Sorreters, to see Drag. He must be aware of our release by now, and I'm sure he's anxious to hear from me. I could still meet you later at the club."

Darius nodded. "Sounds like a plan. So... I guess you could leave any time now. No reason to wait til we're all ready to go out."

And so, within the hour, he made his departure. Those who stayed behind spent several hours fairly idly. Tom left a bit before Third Three, to give him time to meet alone with Benj. He'd meet his friends at Whist when he was done; the others left the estate about fifty centhours after him, taking Adam's wagon.

It didn't take more than twenty centhours to get to the club, where they found Tom had already gotten them a table. Darius wasn't surprised to see that he was alone; it wouldn't have been like Benj to accept an invitation to a place like this.

"So, how did it go?" Ginger asked.

"As well as could be expected. I explained my grudge against Zeke, and he said he figured it'd be something like that. He refused to accept the reward I offered, but said he might have something to give me, if we meet again. Didn't say what. I offered to buy him a drink, at least, but he said he didn't plan on joining us for the show. Not his cup of tea, was the phrase he used, but also, he had no desire to set eyes on Tiejo again. Can't say as I blame him, given the circumstances."

"Tiejo can't to be blaming him, either," said the street rat, with obvious remorse.

Darius began reading the back cover of the menu, which told the story of the establishment's history. After a centhour he stabbed the menu with his finger and said, "I knew this location seemed familiar. Before it was a nightclub, it was a gaming salon, and one of the games people came here to play was whist. I never got into that, but I used to come here to play chess, when I was a kid. I was never very good at it, though. I also tried for awhile to learn Go, but I'm afraid I had no aptitude for that at all. Anyway, it says the club was named partly in honor of the building's origins as a gaming salon, but also because 'whist' has another meaning in some alien language."

"Oh? What's that?" asked Ginger.

"Doesn't say. It mentions that the game of whist originated on Earth, but the other meaning is from a different planet, which it doesn't specify. Says trying to use one's subword sense to figure it out is a game patrons might play, thus in some small way continuing the building's original purpose."

Everyone turned to look expectantly at Emma. "Oh, it always has to be me, does it? It's not like every person on the Land has a subword sense, or anything." Ten seconds later, she sighed. "Fine, let me think...." With the cessation of conversation at their table, everyone's ears began to notice the cacophony being produced by the patrons at various tables throughout the club's dining area. "If I can even hear myself think," said Emma. Three seconds later, she exclaimed, "That's it! Noise. I couldn't tell you the name of the planet or language it's from, but on some world or other, 'whist' means 'noise.' Wait, no... more like 'harmony' or... pleasing sounds... whether musical, natural, or conversational. I think-"

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen!" came a sudden announcement from a stage at the far end of the room. However, voice seemed to be coming from several points throughout the room, all at once. Everyone immediately quieted down; for the first time since Demos's rally, Darius remembered the existence of bubble-speakers. All eyes turned to the stage, and gave their attention to a man who was standing behind a tall, thin pole of some kind, which ended in a bulbous node at the level of the speaker's mouth. It was a spell device no one at Darius's table had ever seen before, though the article Alecstar had read before the rally had called it a magic microphone.

"My name is Haywood Zenith," continued the speaker, "and I'll be your master of ceremonies for the evening. The show will be divided into two segments: first up is the comedy competition, then the musical competition. I promise you, we have plenty of amazing performers for your laughing and listening pleasure, and the fun will be starting in just a few centhours. You'll notice your menus came with inserts that list the names of all the competitors, so you can vote for your favorites, and turn the ballots in at the end of the night. Should be good practice for Wor'ginday, am I right?" He grinned as he said this, and there was a round of chuckles from the audience. "We request that during the performances you show courtesy to the people on stage and to your fellow patrons by keeping chatter to a minimum. Your friends can hear you anytime; we're here tonight to hear the performers. There will be a few centhours between each set to order more food or drinks. In the meantime, our servers will be enjoying the show, as well. Thank you for your consideration."

Cameron walked up to the table and took a seat, saying "Hi, all, did I miss anything?"

Before anyone could reply, a server appeared to take everyone's order. Darius was delighted to learn they still had Summer ale, though of course it wasn't his father's. They all ordered a glass of that, and said maybe they'd have figured out what they wanted to eat by the time the first act was done.

When the server had gone, Emma turned to Cameron with a smile. "The show hasn't started yet, and obviously none of us ever says anything interesting. So no, you haven't missed anything. How'd your day go?"

Cameron returned her smile. "It was great to see my master, my old friends, and my sister. But details can wait til later."

Almost as soon as he'd said those words, the MC appeared on stage again and said, "Hello again, my friends! Seems like ages since we've spoken, doesn't it?" More chuckles from the audience. "The wait's over, the fun starts now! First up is a personal favorite of mine. Please give a warm welcome to Max Funny!"

Haywood Zenith began clapping as he backed toward stage right, and the audience took up the applause. Max Funny entered from stage left, slowly making his way to the mic. The man appeared exaggeratedly insecure. He glanced for a moment at the audience, flashed a nervous smile, then turned his head to stare at the side of the stage from which Zenith had disappeared. He turned back and forth a few times between the audience and stage right, before finally focusing on the audience and speaking.

He cleared his throat and said, "Um. Hello. I uh... you're all looking... hi." He suddenly flushed and sputtered, "No no no, I'm not saying you look 'high,' I meant-" Everyone laughed. "Uh, you see, I'm never good at beginnings. I'm fine once I get going, but beginnings scare the hell out of me. So I like to start with something simple, like introducing myself. I come out, I look at the audience, I say, 'Hi, I'm Max Funny.' Sometimes I riff on that, like 'I mean, my name is Max Funny. Don't get your hopes up, I may not turn out to provide you with the maximum funny you've ever heard.'" More laughter. "But, uh... I'm not so good with redundancy. And you already knew my name, because Woody already told you before I came out. So, what's the point in my telling you? And if I can't tell you my name... how do I begin? Thanks a lot, Woody!"

Everyone laughed, and Max produced a handkerchief, which he used to mop his brow. "But hey, I guess that was a beginning, so let's move on! Speaking of my name, you know... before I was born, my parents were thinking of calling me 'Kinda,' because my father always said he 'kinda wanted to have kids.' Years later, after the surname law came along, I chose the name 'Funny,' because comedy is my life. Can you imagine if my mother hadn't talked Dad out of his original idea? Instead of Max Funny, I'd only be Kinda Funny." Laughter. "Speaking of having kids, my wife and I just had a son." Applause. "I wanted to name him 'From,' so I could tell people, 'If you haven't met my kid, you don't know From Funny!'"

While most of the audience laughed, Ginger just grinned and said quietly to her friends, "No one would really do that to their kid."

Darius replied, "Oh yeah? Tell that to Rain Weatherprophet."

The act went on for about ten centhours, after which a server arrived with the Summer ales, and took their meal orders. After she'd left, Darius said, "You know, I don't think I've ever been to a nightclub. I always thought they'd be more crowded than this, with people getting annoyingly drunk, and... shouldn't there be dancing?"

Ginger said, "I noticed another room when we came in, which I'm pretty sure has a dance floor and a separate bar." With a grin she added, "Normally that'd be more my idea of a fun night out than this, but occasionally I enjoy some relative peace and quiet."

Darius glanced around the room, noticing the resumed din of the other patrons, during the intermission. "This is definitely not my idea of peace and quiet."

"Well, I don't know if you recall what I said that day we were all chewing that purpleshade of yours...."

"Oh, yeah. Guess you got me out to a club, after all," he said with a grin.

"Though still not the really fun part of the club."

"And again I say, no thanks."

Before long, Haywood returned to the stage and said, "I know you all enjoyed our first act, but the fun's just getting started. Time to bring out the next clown, Jo- well, maybe I shouldn't tell you his name. Max didn't seem to appreciate that."

There were a few muted chuckles from the audience. They applauded as the MC left the stage and the next performer came on.

The newcomer said, "Thanks, Woody, but I don't mind you saying my name. I'm Johnny Holler. What I do mind is being called a 'clown.'"

"No one cares!" shouted someone from the audience.

"Hey, I know how you feel. I'm sure many of you are aware- and are sick of people like me telling you- that the proper term is 'comedian,' even if no one bothers to use it. But it's important to know the difference. A comedian is a person who gets up in front of an audience and tells jokes. Whereas clowns... are the people we're all gonna vote into office in a couple days." Laughter and a smattering of applause at this. "Seriously... a lot of good came out of the establishment of government, almost a decade ago. But the best thing about the invention of politics is the unprecedented amount of fodder it created for comedians. If we're being honest, we all say and do dumb things. Before the Coming, maybe a few friends had a little laugh at our expense, and then it was forgotten. It wasn't worth building a whole act around. But now that we have politicians... wow! When they do stupid stuff, it's not a few friends who get to laugh, it's the whole world. And ya gotta laugh, because otherwise all you can do sometimes is cry. Like, the other day I was reading how Jared Localpride, when someone asked him if he thought it was fair that the majority of government officials were rich- most of them from noble clans like his- he said it made sense that the wealthy had a greater say in certain matters, because they paid higher taxes than commoners." There were boos from the audience. "In fact, he suggested that if commoners wanted more representation in the government, maybe there should be different 'tax brackets' based on income, so those with the highest incomes would pay the lowest percentages. Just to make things more fair." The boos (mixed with laughter) got louder. "I know, right? And do you know how many of the nobles currently holding public office- the people we voted for in past elections- spoke out definitively against this idea? None. A few questioned Localpride's suggestion in a very noncommittal way, but not one of them came out and said in no uncertain terms that he was wrong."

The comedian engaged in an exaggerated show of laughing at the absurdity of the nobility's idea of what was 'fair,' before seguing into an exaggerated show of crying. Then he took out a handkerchief, dried his eyes, and said, "I'll be alright. I mean, I'm not sure about the rest of you... but I'll be alright, because like I said... the more stupid things politicians say, the easier my job becomes."

His routine went on in this vein for a few more centhours, until Woody Zenith reappeared on one side of the stage and signaled that his time was up. Johnny looked at him and said, "Already? But I have so many more hilariously disheartening quotes to share! ...Alright." He turned back to the audience and said, "Thank you! Don't forget to vote for Johnny Holler!" The audience applauded as he left the stage.

The food Darius and the others had ordered arrived then, and they all set about eating it, rather than talking. The quiet at their own table allowed Darius to overhear a conversation at the next table. Two men who were both about his father's age were commenting on the show.

One of them asked, "Did Localpride really say that? About taxes?"

His friend replied, "Well, it's somewhat taken out of context; if you read the full interview, the point he was trying to make sounded a bit more reasonable than this guy made it sound. But basically, yeah, he said it. I don't know how other politicians may have responded to it, though. And I'm not sure Localpride himself was entirely serious."

The first man scoffed, "Wouldn't surprise me if he was. Those nobles are pretty much all alike. I wish I could vote them out of office, but hardly any commoners or even middle class folks run, and those that do... feh, it's like throwing your vote away. They don't stand a chance of winning. All you can do is try to figure out which of the viable candidates is gonna do the least harm."

"Maybe, but you can't really assume all nobles are only out for themselves. I remember during the Coming, Adam's clan seemed to genuinely care about common folk. Damn shame they're all gone, now."

"All but two, but they were never as good as the rest of their family."

"I didn't think there were any survivors."

"Yeah, I guess a lot of people don't. But I used to work on Putt's farm- people might think of it as Adam's land, but he just married into the clan that owned it. The real farmer was Putt- Adam's father-in-law. Anyway, one of Putt's sons lives in Tanq, and took no part in the war. Adam's son was staying with him there, at the time."

"Huh. So, what've you got against them?"

"It's not that they were a bad sort, but their stubborn pride after the war caused a lot of folks like me to fall on hard times. I'm sure most of us got back on our feet eventually, as I did, but it was no thanks to them."

"Whatta ya mean?"

"Well, there were plenty of offers from other landowners to buy their land, but they refused to sell. I don't blame them for not selling to their neighbor, Xander, who was after all an enemy of Adam's. But, dammit, there were plenty of people they had no good reason not to sell to. They damn sure never did anything with the land, which meant farm hands like me had no work to go back to, after the war. And most other farms in the area weren't hiring, at least not right away."

"That's rough. Still, it doesn't change my point."

"Yeah, you're right, of course. Anyway, it's nice to hear people like that Holler guy making fun of nobles. Like he said, it helps to laugh."

Darius finished off his drink and ordered another, which couldn't get there fast enough. He was starting to hate himself for having completely failed to consider displaced workers, all these years. He felt a bout of depression coming on. Suddenly, a long-forgotten memory surfaced. "Oh my God, that's what Benj was saying to me. That's why I was too annoyed to accept his condolences, back then..."

Emma felt an old impulse to console Darius, immediately followed by a remembrance that she was still mad at him, and had barely spoken to him since they'd all returned from Near Port. Still, her curiosity got the better of her, and she asked, "What do you mean?"

Darius was surprised that anyone had responded, especially Emma. He'd been talking to himself, though he had consciously spoken just loud enough that those nearest him might hear. (He supposed not everyone at the table would have, and he'd certainly spoken softly enough that those at the next table, whose conversation had provided his epiphany, wouldn't hear his words.) He looked at Emma just for a moment before looking down at the plate in front of him; he wasn't sure how much his avoidance of eye contact was his normal social anxiety, and how much was because of the recent distance between the two of them. Nevertheless, he forced himself to answer.

"It's just... you remember that night when I was telling you all about the time Benj came over, when West and I went back to the estate just after the war? How I wasn't in the mood to talk to him, and got annoyed even though he was trying to be nice?"

"Yeah?"

"I just remembered that he'd been saying... we should sell the land to someone, for the sake of the workers. At the time, I just dismissed the argument as an attempt to get us to sell to his father, which made me less than receptive to whatever words of sympathy he had about my family. Before long, I guess I'd forgotten that part of the conversation entirely." He sighed. "You know, I was a self-centered, stupid kid, in a lot of ways. Sure, I agreed with my family's ideas about the equality of everyone, but that didn't stop me from only paying attention to things that interested me, and most things didn't. Which meant I could be pretty oblivious to lots of things I should have paid attention to. Including how the loss of my family affected people other than West and me."

"Darius..." Emma had no idea what to say. Part of her wanted to tell him it was alright, that he shouldn't dwell on the past. Another part of her wanted to say he still had a tendency to overlook the needs of others, and should try harder to overcome that failing in the present.

Before she could say anything, the MC returned to the stage and announced, "Up next, the comedy stylings of Mushi & Junior!"

As the audience began to applaud, Darius's fresh drink arrived, which he accepted eagerly, but without making eye contact with the server. After taking a swallow of ale, he turned his eyes to the stage. But he glanced back for a moment at Emma, and flashed her a quick smile of gratitude for her even listening. However, smiling always made him feel paranoid about how it would be perceived, so he just as quickly turned to look at the stage again.

Unlike the other comedians, this duo didn't address the audience, but only each other. One was a man who appeared to be in his early forties, the other was a teenager. The elder said, "Well, Junior, how was school today?"

"Enlightening as always, Father. I sure am sorry there were no schools for you to attend when you were my age."

"Bah! What good would they have done me? I learned the basics from my parents, like anyone else, and I had a fine master to teach me a trade. It was good enough for countless generations before me. You kids today are spoiled!"

"Gee, you never told me about your master. I didn't even know there were master comedians."

"True, it's a fairly new profession, but the trade has existed for about a century, now. So of course there are masters. Though I don't suppose they teach comedy at your fancy, newfangled school, do they?"

"Not so far, but maybe when I go to university...."

Tom muttered, "Are they ever going to get to any jokes?"

Tiejo wagged a hand in Tom's direction, without diverting his eyes from the stage, and said "Shush. Listening." From his grin, Tom assumed the street rat must have found the exchange amusing, though he couldn't imagine why. Certainly no one else in the place had laughed yet. But Tiejo, at least, was riveted.

"University, bah!" Mushi had said while Tom was muttering. "Bad enough you kids have to waste your childhood on standardized lessons you're never going to use. At least it's free. But to actually pay to start learning a trade by the time people of every previous generation had generally completed their training? It's highway robbery!"

"Didn't Grandma and Grandpa pay your master, Father?"

"Well, you've got me there, Junior. I'm just saying, in the old days, you could have already been plying your trade by your age, not looking forward to starting your training."

Junior cast a sidelong glance at the audience as he said, "You're right, it's a shame I haven't started performing comedy yet." There were a few chuckles at this from scattered corners of the audience, and giggles from Tiejo. Even Tom couldn't help grinning. Looking back at his father, Junior added, "Still, maybe I could apply things I learn in primary school when I start developing my own comedy routines, someday."

"Bah! What can subjects like Science and History contribute to comedy?"

"Well, for example, the other day I learned that the thermometer was invented in 201."

"So?"

"Okay, let's pretend we're standing in front of an audience." They both turned to face the audience for the first time, and there were a few more chuckles (and giggles). "Suppose we were doing a routine where we were pretending to be from a time before innovations we now take for granted. I might say, 'It's so hot today, Father.'"

"How hot is it, Junior?" asked Mushi, going along with the conceit.

"Whattaya mean, 'How hot is it'? This is only LY 200; a standardized system for measuring temperature hasn't been invented yet."

At this, the majority of the audience laughed for the first time. Tiejo laughed louder than anyone, slapping the table as he did so. From this point on, most of the act consisted of the routine-within-a-routine, with Junior using various random facts he'd learned in school in ironic fashion. The act concluded with father and son turning to face each other again, and Mushi wiping tears from his eyes as he he lamented, "You're so right! Now I'm sorry I never got to go to school!"

The crowd applauded as the duo left the stage. Haywood Zenith returned and announced, "Well, that's the last of the comedy acts. In a few centhours, the musical competition begins."

A few centhours later, Zenith returned to the stage again, to announce, "Ladies and gentlemen, the Cephalopods!"

No one applauded louder than those at the Chaos's table (aside from Tom, who muttered, "Oh no, not again.")

Four teenagers came on stage, bringing with them three additional magic mics. One of them said, "Thank you! As Woody said, we're the Cephalopods. We're all very excited to be here." Pointing to each of his band mates in turn, he said, "On bağlama is Chet Möbius. On lute is Patel Whisthall- no relation to this fine establishment." There were a few chuckles from the audience, and the speaker grinned. "On drums is Alexander Coopersmith. And over here with my mandolin, I'm Leonardo Transcendent. I'm sure you've all heard people play our respective instruments before, though possibly you haven't heard a drum kit quite like the one Alex is playing. And chances are you haven't heard anyone play any of our instruments quite the way we're going to be playing them. It might sound a bit odd to you at first, but please give it a chance. I think it'll grow on you. We've heard of newer instruments called majitars, which we might like to try someday. They'd probably work better with our style than these do, but they're pretty rare, and right now we can't afford them, unfortunately. But we're pretty proud of what we can do with what we've got. Anyway, tonight we're gonna try a song we've never played for an audience before. It's actually a song from Earth, originally used in one of their movies. We've never seen the movie, but we have heard a recording of the song, and thought it definitely fit our style. Hope you like it!" And they began to play.

It took a centhour for some people in the audience to get used to the volume and pace of the song, but in the end, everyone loved it. Except Tom.

After another break of ten centhours, Haywood Zenith announced the second musical act. Four young men dressed all in black took the stage. One of them said, in the most gravelly voice anyone in the room had ever heard, "Uh, hello. You already know the name of our band, but I'm gonna say it again. We're Ultimate Oblivion. Those kids who played before us said they wanted majitars. We've got one. It's played by Xedric Midnight, who also invented magic microphones. You're welcome, kids. Our koto-player is Brando July. Our drummer is Peter Cayenne. I'm Nathan Deathshead. I sing and write our music. You've been warned."

A few people began to chuckle at his last statement, but before their laughter could be completed, the band immediately launched into something no one in the audience felt a particular inclination to refer to as a 'song' or even 'music'. They all thought it must be the loudest, fastest noise they'd ever heard, and probably the most chaotic. Most people spent the majority of the time with their hands over their ears. The band were aware of this, and were used to it; it was the most common reaction of the various audiences they'd played to in the two years since forming Ultimate Oblivion. They didn't particularly care if no one else liked their music, it was enough for them that they liked it, and that people heard it, whether they wanted to or not.

When the song was over and people began uncovering their ears, Nathan said, "Guess you guys aren't ready for that yet. But your kids are gonna love it."

"Maybe," amended Brando July.

Nathan said, "Oh yeah, maybe. Our lawyers told us we have to say that so if your kids don't love it you can't sue us. But your grandkids will definitely love it. We can say that, 'cause even if they don't... who the fuck cares, we'll be dead by then."

They were the first act of the night to receive no applause as they left the stage.

Tom said to his friends, "Well... I think I just became a fan of the Cephalopods."

Darius said, "I kinda liked it." Everyone stared at him like he was crazy. "I mean, it's something I could see listening to when my depression segues into an intense loathing of the world."

"Anyway," said Emma, "wasn't the singer's name the same as that organization from the graphic novel you and Marian were talking about?"

"Oh yeah. That reminds me, an issue must have come out while we were-" he paused, suddenly realizing he didn't want to remind Emma where they'd been for the last three months. "Uh, anyway... yeah. Maybe tomorrow I should head to the library to read the new issue."

"Aren't libraries closed on We'gindays?" said Ginger.

"Oh yeah. Well then, maybe Wor'ginday."

"But that's Election Day."

"Whatever. Sometime in the next few days, I'm going to the damn library!"

When the MC returned to the stage a bit later, he announced, "And now, the final act of the evening, SNOW!" He led the audience in a round of applause, though after the previous act, the audience was a bit wary of giving their applause too easily. Zenith had begun to back away stage right, but before disappearing behind the curtain on his side, he saw a head poke out from the curtain on stage left. The head looked around, seemed to decide not to call out loud, so instead an arm appeared and motioned for the MC to come over. He rolled his eyes, thinking if someone had something to say to him backstage, they could have just walked around to him. But he figured now he might as well walk over there, himself. He paused at the mic to say, "One moment, ladies and gentlemen..." and continued toward stage left.

Behind the curtain, away from both the eyes and ears of the audience, he said to the owner of the head and arm, "Well, what is it, Suzu?"

"Ummm... sorry. I seem to have lost my music."

"What do you mean?"

"My sheet music. It was here a little while ago, but now it's gone."

"Don't you know the song?"

"Kind of. But I haven't had enough time to practice to be sure I won't forget part of it."

"Is there a song you know better that you could do instead?"

She shook her head. "This is the first one we've written. We are pretty new, you know."

Zenith sighed. "Well, what do you want me to do about it? We need a third musical act."

"Sorry, I don't know."

He ran a hand through his hair in annoyance, and looked at the ceiling. After a moment, he had a thought. "Okay, listen. I have an idea. If it doesn't work out, you and your band are going to play, anyway, and hope for the best. If you mess up, don't worry about it. Like you said, you're new. You've got plenty of time to get things right in the future."

Zenith returned to the stage, and announced, "Sorry, ladies and gents. It looks like SNOW may not be able to perform, due to... technical issues. However, I couldn't help noticing earlier that we have celebrities of a sort in the audience, tonight. A professional band, so they probably shouldn't be considered eligible for the competition. But since we've got time to fill, perhaps they'd do us the honor of an impromptu performance." He pointed at a table, and a stage hand directed a magical spotlight at it. The Band realized he was talking about them.

They looked at each other, unsure what to do. After a few moments, Alec turned to the stage and called out, "But we don't have our instruments."

Zenith replied, "Oh, I'm sure the other bands would be happy to lend you theirs."

Alec turned back to the others and asked, "Well, what do you think?"

Darius said, "I've always liked 'Greensleeves.'"

Alec glared at him. "I wasn't asking what we should play, I was asking whether we should play. And only those in the band get a vote."

"I think it'd be fun," said Emma.

"I second that," said Ginger.

"I have my ocarina," said Tino.

"How did you-" began Alec, but concluded, "Never mind. What about you, Cameron?"

He shrugged. "I'm good either way."

"As am I," said Alec with a sigh. "I mean, I'd prefer not to, but I don't mind, I suppose." Turning to Darius, he added, "But we're not playing 'Greensleeves.'"

With that, he stood up; the others did likewise, and they all walked up on stage. The audience applauded, and the MC led them backstage to see about borrowing instruments. Alec borrowed a lute from Patel Whisthall, and Emma borrowed Leonardo Transcendent's mandolin. After deciding what to play, they all returned to the stage, and received more applause.

Alec stepped to the microphone, and said, "Well, it looks like only three of us will be playing."

Cameron said with a wry grin, "Ginger and I are just going to stand around being useless."

Alec said, "And I should say, Ginger does most of our singing, but I do a bit, now and then. I'll be doing so, tonight. I'm more used to playing bodhrán, but for the song we've selected, I'm going with a lute. Emma will be playing mandolin, Tino will play ocarina, and the drummer from the Cephs has agreed to sit in with his taiko. He didn't want to bring the whole kit back out after having taken it offstage, but that's just as well. I don't think a whole drum kit would fit our style, which is much more traditional than theirs. Like them, we'll be playing a Terran song, which you may have heard of. It's mentioned in the O'Gas, in the Book of Julia-" at this there was more applause from the audience. "Ah, you have heard of it, then. Good. But while the bands that originated it on Earth may have played it in a style more like the Cephs', we've adapted it to our own style." They struggled a bit with adjusting the magic microphones, and Alec said, "I'm afraid we don't have much experience with these things. And by 'much,' I mean 'any.'"

When they were finally ready, Alec said, "Let's begin..."

Suddenly, someone translocated onto the stage and said, "Let's not. I've always hated that song. In fact, I very much doubt God truly shared that song with Julia, at all."

Darius thought to himself, Nelly would get along great with this guy, whoever he is.

The audience had no idea what to make of this interruption; many of them wondered if it was part of the show. Meanwhile, the members of the Band took up defensive stances, not that there was much they could hope to do, considering they had no weapons on them.

Emma asked Cameron, "Is that Durell?"

"I don't recognize him, but he could be wearing a glamour."

"What do you want with us?" demanded Alec.

The intruder replied, "You may have convinced a few people that you lot are no longer plotting rebellion, but I know better. Still, I suppose it's none of my concern. If the authorities choose to leave you be, so shall I. I have no interest in anyone here but the ex-Sorreter. Give him up, and I'll give you no trouble. However, if you choose to fight me, I promise you'll lose."

Emma shouted, "There's no way in Hell we're going to let you-"

"Get off the stage, Emma," said Cameron calmly. "Star, Ginger, Tino, you too." He glanced at the drummer from the Cephalopods. "Sorry, I forget your name. But you too." The drummer hastily exited stage left.

Emma said, "Cameron, we can't leave you."

He smiled at her. "With all due respect, this is either Durell or someone he considers equal to this mission. Either way, he must be quite powerful. I guarantee you, all you could hope to do is get in the way. The few seconds your deaths might buy me wouldn't help."

"Can't you just translocate away?"

"Already checked. There's a very specific anti-translocation spell in effect; he must have cast it as soon as he appeared. Any other magic will probably work, particularly offensive spells."

"But-"

"Go. I'll be alright."

Ginger put a comforting hand on Emma's shoulder, looked her in the eyes, and said, "Come on. He's right. He'll be safer if he's not worrying about us."

After a few seconds, Emma sighed, turned toward the steps. Ginger put an arm around her, and they walked down together, followed by Alecstar and Tino.

The four band mates rejoined Darius and Tom at their table; the two of them had been standing ever since the intruder appeared on stage, watching intently. Darius wasn't sure if they should perhaps all sit down, since it had been determined that they weren't going to do anything, anyway. But everyone else remained standing, so he did also.

Emma looked around and whispered, "Hey, where's Tiejo?"

"He ran out," whispered Tom. "Probably looking for help."

On the stage, Cameron was saying, "You really don't want to face off against me, right now."

"Oh yes, I've heard about your recent exploits. Seems you hit upon a snag in René's chakra-suppression spell. Don't worry, I've already found a way to prevent that from happening in the future. Meanwhile, I've brought a mana battery with sufficient power to counter whatever you've got left of your surplus. And all I have to do is lay one hand on you, and all that excess chakra will go right back to being blocked."

Cameron grinned. "You just admitted you are who I thought you were. René told me he and his master were the only two people in the world who knew that spell."

"Did he? I doubt he could know that with absolute certainty, but even assuming I am who you think, you couldn't possibly prove it."

"Whatever. It doesn't really matter who you are, the fact is by trying to apprehend me, you are breaking the law. I don't imagine it will take the police long to get here, someone must have called them by now. My friends and I have at least tentatively been cleared of the charges against us. As for my being an ex-Sorreter, I do hope you're not forgetting about the Declaration of Amnesty."

The intruder smiled. "Which is why those who wish to find your people cannot act too openly. But at the same time, the fact that certain people are currently engaged in internal investigations anyway means the enemies of the ex-Sorreters may feel desperate, willing to take chances. They may be afraid if they don't act now, they may not have a chance again. And it's too late to worry about their actions instigating investigations, obviously. But enough talking. Will you come with me peacefully, or must I start doing some damage? No telling how many innocents might get hurt."

Not long after Tom had said Tiejo ran out, he scurried back in, using all his street rat skill to avoid notice from those onstage. He handed swords to Tom and Darius, having retrieved them from the wagon. "Wondering I was," he whispered, "and, well, not knowing what all was meant by your discussion before, about 'chakra over mana,' but sounding to me it was like having something to do with magic, it must. Maybe you could to be using it against enemy of Cameron?"

Tom and Darius stared at Tiejo for a moment in surprise, then looked at each other.

"What do you think?" Tom whispered. "Should we try? After all, Cameron made it pretty clear he didn't want any of us up there."

Darius glanced at the sword Tom now held, and said, "That's a jian, isn't it? Mine's a katana."

Tom glanced at Darius's sword, then with a grin asked, "Jade variation?"

"Two variations, actually."

"What are you guys talking about?" asked Emma.

"Explain later," said Darius. Turning to Tiejo he said, "Thanks."

They both looked back at the stage, and it was about then that the intruder asked Cameron if he'd come along peacefully. Emma pleaded, "If you guys are going to do something, do it now."

Cameron paused, looked out at the audience, then turned back to the intruder with a sigh. "Very well." But just as he began stepping toward his enemy, Tom and Darius rushed onto the stage, one from each side. Cameron shouted, "Guys, don't do this!"

"It's okay," said Tom, "I assure you, we can handle him."

The intruder laughed. "You think so?" He quickly shot a fireball at Tom, who easily parried it with his jian. The shot was redirected across the stage, and caught by Darius's katana. He sent it flying toward the enemy, who raised a force field, which dissipated the fireball when it struck. "Intriguing. I've heard of this technique, but I've never actually seen it performed." Turning to Cameron, he said, "Change of plans. You were willing to come with me so that I wouldn't harm anyone in the audience; now I demand that you stand aside for a few centhours while your friends and I enjoy a little duel. Again, if you refuse-"

"Yeah, I got it," said Cameron, backing away.

Three freelance thugs-for-hire: Parke, Calvert, and Rocco, happened to be attending the talent show, in an effort to take their minds off the recent loss of their best employer. Over the last few days, they'd been discussing whether they should seek regular employment as enforcers for a gang, and if so, which. They were leaning toward InterGang, as they knew the Chaos supposedly had ties to LandOrder, which they figured might work against them, if it became known they'd had some small part in Macen's attempt to kill a member of the Chaos. But tonight, they hoped to just forget about business, and enjoy some entertainment. Things didn't quite work out that way, but they didn't really mind.

As they watched the battle taking place on stage, Rocco commented, "Wow. This is even cooler than the sword fight the boss had with that street rat."

"Totally," agreed Calvert.

"Still kinda wish I'd seen that," said Parke. "At least maybe I could have followed it. These moves are all going faster than my eyes can keep track of."

"Yeah," said Rocco, "but it's still cooler. In fact, I'd say this blows all the other acts we saw tonight right out of the water. Whoever wins the fight should get a prize, even if it isn't in one of the official competition categories."

Meanwhile, Cameron was doing a slightly better job of following the action, from his closer vantage point. But even he would have been hard-pressed to give a blow-by-blow description of the fight. The one thing he could say with any certainty is that he'd never seen anything quite like it. He began to wonder if he was wrong about the enemy being Durell, as he displayed remarkable speed, stamina, and agility. Cameron wasn't sure Durell had ever been capable of a display like this, even in his prime; and it was even more unlikely now, when he'd have to be around 60. On the other hand, Tom was just as impressive, and while he was about ten years younger than Durell, he wasn't exactly in his prime, either. And whatever age advantage he had might be offset by his weight, and the fact that he probably hadn't been in a proper battle for years.

After several centhours of intense action, the fight suddenly came to a standstill when Tom and Darius, in a stunning display of synchronicity, leapt, whirled, and landed simultaneously, their swords stopping less than an inch from either side of their enemy's throat. Cameron was fairly sure the intruder, whoever he was, would be dead now if he hadn't protected himself with a force field. Cameron realized the Sorreter could easily expand the field to toss them aside, so he immediately cast his own force field just outside the enemy's, to counter any attempt to do so.

Darius said, "Do you yield?"

"Seems I have rather little choice. I know when I've been bested. Although you might care to know you'd both be on your asses right now, if Cam here hadn't intervened with a bit of magic."

"A minor contribution," said Cameron. "Without them, I'd be your prisoner, whether in Sorret or Near Port. But now that you're trapped, perhaps I could simply tighten my own force field to crush yours... and then crush you. Of course, I'm not sure if my chakra reserves are stronger than your mana battery, but it might be interesting to find out. Even if I failed, I'd very likely at least weaken your field enough for their swords to penetrate."

"So soon after being- tentatively- cleared of rebellion charges? Tsk, tsk. Hardly a wise move."

"I'd call it self-defense," said Darius.

"Ah, you adventurers. So used to rationalizing murder. Well, perhaps if it had happened in the heat of battle. But now, you've won. The imminent threat is over. Too bad, the opportunity for 'justifiable homicide' has come and gone."

Cameron said, "I'm less sure now of who you actually are. But whether you're who I thought or not, you're clearly dangerous. Neither you nor your allies will ever give up on your obsessive, unlawful pursuit of my people. I could tell my friends to stand down, so they can't be considered accomplices. As for myself, I'd be willing to spend the rest of my life in prison if it meant stopping you once and for all. On the other hand, I'd hate to make a martyr of you. But make no mistake, you do deserve to die, and I don't doubt someday you'll give me, or someone else, another chance to take you out, legitimately. So I'll let you go, for now. However..." He made a sudden push with his magic, broke his enemy's force field, and in the same instant drew a dagger. With one swift motion, he cut a lock of the enemy's hair, and held it up as he said, "You may be able to divine for me at any time in the future, using DNA obtained by René; now I can divine for you, too. Do bear that in mind."

"Oh, don't worry. I shall." With that, he dispelled his anti-translocation spell, and vanished.

Cheers and applause erupted from the audience, as Cameron, Tom, and Darius made their way offstage. Cameron said in an aside to Darius, "Sorry I ever doubted you, d'Artagnan."

Darius grinned. "Think nothing of it, Lonewolf. Truth is, this is the first chance I've ever had to try Chakra Over Mana against an actual Sorreter. Wasn't sure it'd work, especially against the Grand Sorreter himself. It was Durell, wasn't it?"

"I thought so at first, but toward the end of the fight, a different possibility occurred to me. And if that's who it was, believe me, your triumph was even more impressive than if it was Durell."

Before Darius could ask what he meant, they reached their friends, and Emma threw her arms tightly around Cameron. She exclaimed, "I am so glad you're alright!"

Meanwhile, Tom clasped Tiejo on the shoulder. "As Darius said earlier... thanks."

Tiejo grinned. "No problem, it is being. Thank you both for the show."

Tom chuckled at that. "No problem, it is being," he echoed.

The police arrived soon after that, and took statements from everyone. It was clear that Cameron, Tom, and Darius had committed no crime, and the only one who had was gone, and unidentifiable. After a while, Haywood Zenith returned to the stage, and reminded everyone to submit their ballots. He was interrupted by Suzu, who said that after what they'd all just witnessed, she didn't think it would be so scary to perform without her sheet music, after all. SNOW's performance went off without a hitch, and the crowd loved it.

Later, as Darius and his friends were leaving the club, a man rushed over to them and said, "Sorry to trouble you, but I have a request. Hubert Goodnews, editor of the Triscot Daily News. I wonder if I might get a few words from you all about what just happened in there."

Darius said, "We're all very tired, and probably our thoughts are somewhat scattered. Perhaps we could meet tomorrow?"

"Certainly. Call me anytime to arrange it."

Once they'd gotten into their wagon and started the drive home, Alec asked Darius, "What are you planning to say to him?"

"I'm not sure yet. I really am tired, and I think we all need a good night's sleep. In the morning, we can discuss it with my father and Vallus. But I am thinking... even though we were planning on keeping the truth quiet, for the sake of the investigation Mufasa Gothic and the others are conducting, it might be safer for us if the public had a clearer idea of what was really going on. Might make our enemies think twice before trying something like that again."

Immediately after the intruder disappeared from the stage in Triscot, he reappeared in Sorret, in the home of Durell and Virtiana Turner. Durell's wife was already asleep in bed, but Durell himself was waiting up. The visitor dropped the glamour spell that covered his face.

"How'd it go?" asked Durell.

The man grinned. "Exactly as planned, Father." He sat down at the kitchen table, directly across from Durell, and dropped some papers on the table.

"What's that?" asked Durell.

"Oh, just some sheet music I stole from one of the bands. Had to make an opening somehow, to get our Band on stage."

Durell nodded. "So, you think they'll react the way we hope?"

"I have very little doubt."

"Good. I do hate waiting to see if all the separate pieces of a plan work together properly, but I suppose even if it all falls apart, we'll be no worse off than we are now. I just hope Woodman appreciates our sacrificing our best chance to reacquire Piper, for the sake of his own plans. Meanwhile, how go your efforts to assume the reins of Macen Illustri's organization?"

"That... is far less predictable, at this point, but I have some hope. At the very least, I believe I can prevent Sloane Mocha-Java from making too much trouble for us, too soon."

Durell sighed. "I do so wish I knew what Manat was thinking when he told you to get rid of those bodies."

"So do I, Father, but I'm sure we can trust your old friend to know what he's doing."

"I suppose so. In any event, I'll let you get home to bed. We'll all need all the sleep we can get. Things are bound to get very interesting, in the coming week. And for God only knows how much time to come, depending upon the events of this week."

"Indeed. Good night, Father."

"Good night, Noson."

Noson translocated away, and Durell rose from the table, to join his wife in bed. Just one more day of peace he thought to himself, before all Hell breaks loose...

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