Then I heard it — the faint click of cutlery upon plate. I headed in the apparent direction of the sound. Obviously, the meal was taking place in a less frequented setting than usual. I turned right, then left. Yes, they had decided to set up in a drawing room. No matter.

I entered the room, where Llewella was seated with Random’s wife, Vialle, on the red divan, dinner laid on a low table before them. Michael, who worked in the kitchen, stood nearby behind a cart loaded with dishes. I cleared my throat.

“Merlin,” Vialle announced with a sensitivity that always gives me a small chill — she being completely blind. “How pleasant!”

“Hello,” Llewella said. “Come and join us. We’re anxious to hear what you’ve been doing.”

I drew a chair up to the far side of the table and seated myself. Michael came over and laid a fresh setting before me. I thought about it quickly. Anything Vialle heard would doubtless get back to Random. So I gave them a somewhat edited version of recent events — leaving out all references to Mandor, Fiona, and anything having to do with the Courts. It made for a considerably shorter story and let me get to my food sooner.

“Everybody’s been so busy lately,” Llewella remarked when I’d finished talking. “It almost makes me feel guilty.”

I studied the delicate green of her more-than-olive complexion; her full lips, her large catlike eyes.

“But not quite,” she added.

“Where are they all, anyway?” I asked.

“Gerard,” she said, “is down seeing to harbor fortifications, and Julian is in command of the army, which has now been equipped with some firearms and is set to defend the approaches to Kolvir.”.

“You mean Dalt has something in the field already? Coming this way?”