"It’s just that time of year, Serena. Lots of corps are finalizing the third-quarter turnovers and announcements, and it’s been busy in the House. But then you’d know that." More than a few elven nobles counted Serena as a good friend, and it was probably their influence that allowed her to operate beyond the rigid legal constraints of the Lord Protector’s Office. She didn’t always need to fill out the quadruplicate paperwork or obtain the full array of permits most registered talismongers needed in Britain’s highly regulated society.

Serena waved away his words with a tiny, bird-like shake of her head. “You can always find a rationalization, Geraint. There is always the pressure of work, if you choose that. But I see you are not at ease. There is a blockage in your aura. Your left side”-she touched her left temple with her index finger-"has been flaring. You won’t accept it, or you don’t want to face it, and you tell yourself that you are too busy, perhaps. You have a block there, and your energies do not flow properly. You’re creating tension within yourself, and you have been trying to calm it with poisons.”

Her expression was almost stem, almost like one his mother had mastered to perfection. If he’d been allowed, he would have lit a cigarette to calm his irritation and to give his restless fingers something to do now that Skita was clearly not to be disturbed in the acme of his relaxation. Serena would not allow tobacco to even enter her premises, let alone be smoked here.

“Serena, I came for business. It’s fortunate that I asked for the mask when I did, for there’s an important business meeting this weekend and I’m sure there’ll be the usual gaggle of corporate mages and opportunistic freelancers trying to probe a mind or two here and there.”