When the contact is closed, Fiona shakes her head. "Children," she sighs. "At least I can trust Brita to do as I ask of her. Do you think Ossian will follow his instructions? Meg seems likely to require some training."
"Meg has barely a few days or weeks of dealing with people in her own league, much less those beyond. She requires more education than Garrett, despite having less distance to travel. And with both of us in the Trump, and the topic being Bleys, Ossian has no choice to obey whatever his inclinations. Should he not, we will find out about it sooner, rather than later; this he knows," Brennan says.
He wipes out the ideoglyphs he had traced on the table. "You left the decision of using Huon's trump to Ambrose," he notes. "He is that predictable to you? Or you trust his judgement that much? He at least had exposure to Brand, briefly, to calibrate his expectations of an Uncle."
"I wonder whether it's a moot point," Fiona replies. "I have no reason to believe he has concealed it, nor do I have reason to believe he has told them of it. Let us say that I consider it possible and wish to speak with him to determine what he has done in that matter."
"I think they're probably both cagey enough not to get themselves killed in the process of talking to him, if that's what they decide to do," Brennan says. "After all, Celina and Merlin managed it, and Brita is astute enough to know what she doesn't know about that conversation." He pauses to consider, then adds, "I would very much like to know if he has a source of current information-- or misinformation-- regarding Amber, and what that source is. Bleys has an extraordniarily low opinion of him, and I'm wondering if he isn't someone's partly willing tool in all this."
"Do you have a suspect in mind?" Delicate eyebrows arch as Fiona asks.
"If forced to voice a suspicion right now," Brennan says, "I would voice Dara's name. I'm not convinced of it, but it seems at least plausible. She is, after all, in possession of a great many of Aisling's notes from her tenure as Madoc's spy. More, she's in possession of at least one of Corwin's guns and what looked like a case of ammunition.
"One weak link in this is that having guns and notes do not trivially tell someone how to mass produce them, unless Aisling knew enough about the process to reproduce it... and I don't think she did. But Dara is a talented Sorceress. I have some notions how I'd go about rediscovering it from that starting point, if I felt the need.
"The weaker link is how Dara would have known about Huon to try and make contact. One possible vector is from Brand himself.
"I'm not convinced," Brennan says again, "And I'm aware that I sound pre-occupied with the notion, so let it be said that if Corwin was able to figure out a method all by himself, it seems possible Huon could have also. It's also why I'm particularly eager to see a sample of this stuff, to compare and contrast against the samples that Cambina has been saving... once I un-age them and restore them to their original condition. If they're not a match, the notion is likely false. I like to test my pre-occupations before I act on them."
"Well enough," says Fiona.
"And as for Ossian..." Brennan looks away for a moment, then says, "He'll follow the instructions, but he'll improvise on them. If we don't end up conjuring a volcano under Huon's army, we'll be fine. I hope."
"High paternal opinion of sons is characteristic of our line." As she speaks, Fiona fishes out her deck of trumps and shuffles through them. After a moment, she passes a card to Brennan, face down, according to the correct protocol.
Brennan picks up the card in one hand, and puts out his hand in case Fiona wants in on the conversation. If Random answers, and answers in the traditional fashion, Brennan says, "Brennan, majesty, with Fiona, to report that Huon has guns on the march."
Fiona does not join the conversation at this time.
Random raises an eyebrow. "Impressive. Most people have to carry them. How many does he have, on the march from where to where, and how capable are they? Can you dump some shadow-troops in their path and see what they look like in action?"
"In order," Brennan says, "He has enough to field an army of men from Meg's and Ossian's shadow of Abford. They are on the march specifically from Abford, and we believe but do not know that he marches Amber-ward. They cannot have been extremely capable when he left because at least part of his force is composed of raw recruits from Abford. However, by Abford's reckoning, they've been gone three months. If Huon is skilled enough to create a differential like that intentionally, and especially if he's got even a small number of experienced men to use as cadres, they could be quite capable by now. The weapons are described as rifles.
"Here is what is being done: Brita and Ambrose have already begun the process of getting some of the ammunition so we can test it here. We can repeat in Xanadu and Paris if necessary. I've directed them to get a sample rifle itself, if they can. We expect at least the powder, shortly. They are further going to work out a method to follow and locate Huon, and with luck, project his destination. That should either eliminate or underscore key uncertainties. Ossian is making a similar report to Bleys, due to the bad blood between Huon and Bleys.
"Note, Majesty, there is a personal factor involved here: Huon has recruited members of Meg's family, and I do not believe she is taking that philosophically.
"I can give Huon a scrimmage, if that is your will. Preferably, not under the banner of Amber or Xanadu-- let it simply be something he stumbles across, if I can swing it. I would also consider recalling either Jovian or Lilly to be on hand in Amber to lead the Knights and Army, if something goes wrong, and recalling Marius to open a Shadow-lane from here to Xanadu. Those are probably good ideas in any case, considering the situation in Arcadia and Arden."
"Hmm. It'll have to be Lilly or Marius. Canareth has been killed in the Isles and Jovian will likely be unavailable for some time. Julian suggests that we don't meddle further. He was quite clear about it." Random frowns. "OK, if I had someone to leave as Regent in Amber, I'd send Caine to make a shadow path. I hear he has history with Huon as well."
"Canareth, now?" Brennan closes his eyes and lets out a long sigh. "Majesty, he's running out of people to lose. Tell him, whoever did that..." he trails off, then gives a curt shake of his head. "Just take care of him. Please."
Random scratches the side of his head. "Let's leave off attacking him until we learn where he's going. If he goes in via Arden, he'll walk into a war. I almost hope he does. It'd be nice if his last remaining man shot the dragon to death, then died of his wounds. So, forget my ideas. Tell me what your ideas are. What should we do, Oh Great God Brennan?"
Bleys has a maliciously charming smile, when he wants. On Brennan, it's just malicious. "Given a command to take him down," Brennan says, carefully, "Plan A was already going to be 'Drive him into Arden or Arcadia.' I don't think we'd take both of them down that way, but one or both will be sorely annoyed, which thought is making me grin.
"Part one of my counsel: Backstop Amber and make sure evacuation is an option. Recall Marius to Amber and set him to making a Shadow lane from Amber to Xanadu. And/or Paris if you and King Corwin deem it wise. Recall Lilly, since Jovian is in recovery, and put her in change of local forces. That counsel is based not only on the potential threat of Huon, but because of the Dragon situation. I've conferred with Fiona," his glance flickers out of the Trump and over to her, "and she confirms my basic understanding of that situation. Whether Julian wins or loses, the rules of any conventional game there involve the destruction of Arcadia, at least massive damage to Arden, and possibly damage to Amber itself.
"I'm in Amber right now," with Fiona, "and I believe there are Trumps of both Lilly and Marius in the Booth. I can use those to direct them on your behalf. Part two is providing for communication. Brita and Ossian are both already involved in this. Brita is likely going to be busy locating Huon, but Ossian can be instructed to make Trumps of Lilly, Marius and I, if we're going to be coordinating units in the field, and of you, and whoever you leave as Regent. Paige already has one of me, and vice-versa, if there's an emergency.
"Part three is to put forces in play: Let Brita and Ambrose begin tracking Huon to establish where he is, and if possible, where he's going. Meanwhile, I'll be out in Shadow raising an army that hopefully will not be obviously tied to Amber. If he's been locked in a prison for centuries, it's a good bet he hasn't heard of the Little Furry Guys or the Big Red Guys. If you want something even more deniable, I'm sure something can be arranged.
"Here's what I think you will like about this sketch of a plan: Nothing in it commits you to violence, and it gets done several things that should be done anyway. If we discover the powder doesn't work, here, or that he's going elsewhere, you can be informed and we can change course. There will still be time to attempt some level of diplomacy. Perhaps he can be brought in from the cold. Or," he glances northward at his own hairline, "we can mess with his head, all in the name of good, clean fun. Meanwhile, Lilly's and Marius' efforts are not wasted, if they get the migration moving, and Ossian drawing Trumps in the fashion I've suggested forms a cluster of communication centered around your Knights Commander so we can coordinate in the future when we need to. If military action is not necessary, the only one whose time is wasted is mine."
Random nods his way through the recitation, not interrupting. When Brennan is finished, he says "OK, so a few issues. One, is Marius capable of creating a permanent shadow-path in a short period of time? I wasn't when I was his age. That's a job for Caine, I think. Two, we moved the booth, it came with the flag, which we figuratively moved."
"Strictly speaking, the path doesn't need to be permanent, only long-enough lived to make a difference, here. I can conceive of advantages to a path that lasts only a year, if a round trip takes only a month. But it's your call, as is this: Might be an ideal time for Marius to learn under tutelage. Hell, he can teach me when he's done."
"Other than that, it sounds good. Contact your other KCs and see if they like the plan and let them know about Jove. Oh, yeah, Three. Three, Jovian is not in recovery. He's missing. He slugged Cambina and ran away. We're trying to find him now."
Brennan starts, and almost goes through the Trump right then. He stops hismelf with an effort, saying carefully, "He always did have a way with women. I will infer, by hearing it this late in the conversation, that she is extremely unhappy, but effectively unharmed?"
Random nods. "My advice? Send flowers and stay busy elsewhere."
If Random is willing to transport them, Brennan just happens to know that there are some moonflowers lying about that would make a good bouquet....
"Then I should probably remain here. I have a loose end or two to tie up, instructions to the Army and the Knights to draft, and so forth. In the mean time, either Brita or Ossian will, I hope, check in with Fiona, and I can give them their updates. WIth luck, we'll have a powder sample by then--" he snaps his fingers-- "which reminds me, are the samples of Corwin's guns here, there, or in Paris? If they're there, I'd like one and some ammunition to be here so we can compare and contrast.
"After all that's done, I'll come back to Xanadu, unless I can scrounge Trumps of Lilly and Marius through other means."
"Righto. Hey, tell Fiona I'd like to chat with her later. Tell her she can come to my cave and see my etching."
"Of course, Majesty," Brennan says after a halfbeat just long enough to indicate that he's not going to say anything of the sort, closing the connection.
He turns back to Fiona, filling her in on the salient details that she might not have already picked up from her end of the conversation: The need for Trumps, the in-drawing of Knights, the preparation for conflict without mandating the execution. He closes with his projected need to get back to Xanadu at some near point in the future, unless he an scrounge a Marius or a Lilly Trump, and an editted version of Random's request to talk to Fiona.
[And here, I'm at notional loose ends. In game terms, Brennan needs to stick around at least one more day to have that conversation with Solange, and probably to wait for a report from Brita. His gut tells him to wait two days, no more.
[In the intervening time, Brennan can keep himself busy-- studying with Fiona, supervising Knights, etc-- but that's all summary stuff. Unless Fiona has further agenda with Brennan, uh, I'm not sure, for once.]
Fiona listens and nods here and there. Brennan has the sense from the way she purses her lips that she has a pretty good sense of the innuendo Brennan edited out of Random's comments.
She does remind Brennan of the Trump booth, and offers to Trump him through to Random if he desires at the right time. While she presumes he wishes to lead a fleet for the Migration, should he require more urgent passage, she will provide it.
After baths and rising to the challenge and seven or eight hours of much needed sleep, Kyril wakes up in Solange's bed to find her not there.
Upon closer inspection of his surroundings, he discovers her lounging nearby in a silk dressing gown, bare legs over the arm of an overstuffed chair and hand pensively holding a glass of red wine. Candles light the room warmly, and on a low table between the bed and the chair is a platter with wine, cheese, bread, and fruit.
From the light outside it looks like night is not far off and a distant hum from the town below wafts in with the evening breeze. Solange turns from the window to regard him, not looking a day older than when they dated back in college all those years ago.
"Hello and welcome back," she smiles. "Help yourself to food and wine. And then I'd like to talk."
He yawns, not bothering to cover his mouth. "Good, because if you wanted something more energetic, I'm not sure if I could go much further." He grins, stands, and heads to the table. "We'll see what food does for me." Solange can see that he has gotten older, when she chooses to look for it.
She chooses not to look. "I can get you coffee if you'd prefer," she offers.
He sits with a small plate and begins eating grapes. "Now I may not be the most clueful of guys, but I'm guessing that something is on your mind." He raises his eyebrow in a gesture remarkably similar to Julian's but with a vastly different meaning.
"Several things on my mind," Solange admits. "A lot has happened recently and I'm still processing."
She readjusts her position in the chair so she's facing Kyril. "So...how about you? This wasn't exactly what you were expecting when you went hiking along the coast of Oceania looking for Haversham Bay. Within the last few days you've had your ideas about how the universe works turned on their collective ear, you almost drowned, and you met a ghost. How are you handling all of this?"
Solange pauses, then rephrases in a quieter voice. "I guess what I'm trying to ask is whether you'd like me to take you back to Pacifica, or whether you'd like to stay."
Kyril's chin moves in that way it does when he's working out the right words. "I," he starts, "I am not fragile. I am not scared. And I am not gonna run home with my tail between my legs because the universe isn't what I thought it was. I am a goddamn world-class scientist who got his life hijacked because some idiots started a war. I've been saved from that and dropped in the middle of an undiscovered country that makes everything I know wrong and you want to know if I want to throw a blanket over my head and crawl back into a cave? I am as happy as a pig in shit, Solly. I'm not going away unless you throw me."
Solange grins at Kyril. She raises her glass to him, downs the wine in one swallow, and sits back with a chuckle and a sigh. "Well, I'd say that reply was definitive, just like Sowing Stones. Glad to have you onboard for the long haul and I guess it's on to Item Number Two.
"So...now that you've decided to stay...what do you want to do? You're always welcome to follow me around and and provide clever commentary as you watch me goof my way through one situation after another--and I will take a moment here to applaud you on the amount of control exhibited during the whole Paresh thing, hardly a disparaging remark at all--but that's bound to get old eventually and it's a waste of your professional talents."
His lower lip pushes outward in that way he has. "I'll have to try harder on the disparaging remark front." He looks around. "As for what I want to do? I don't know yet. When I was eighteen I wanted to save the world by being a brilliant medical research doctor. I was, but I couldn't save the world. I ended up trying to save a few boys at a time, in a really pointless war that was a reflection of how things were here."
He shakes his head. "What do I want to do? I want to save the world, but I've got to figure it out first. How do you plan to goof your way into and out of stuff? So far that's the best practical training I've had."
Solange laughs. "No plans right now. Maybe after I finish the wine." She reaches foward and pours herself and Kyril a glass. "I should check in with Father sometime soon. Hannah should be with him and I'd like you to meet her."
He takes the glass. "That's one of your cousins that I haven't met, right? One day I'll be able to keep them straight. OK, time for me to start learning. I'm guessing we're using those cards to check in with your very impressive father. Tell me about them. How do they work?"
Solange pulls out her trumps and spreads them on the table. "My great-grandfather Dworkin created a number of these decks of cards. I received mine from my father after successfully walking the Pattern. You can do a number of things with them, most notably contact the people on the greater trumps--who are all my aunts and uncles--and cast readings, like with a tarot deck."
She fishes through the cards and pulls out the place trump for Amber, then comes around the table to sit next to Kyril on the bed. "I don't know exactly how they work metaphysically, but I can show you how they work practically."
She holds the card up in front of him. "Recognize this? It's the place where we came through to Amber from Asir this morning. Concentrate on the image and it should come alive...try it."
She concentrates on the card with him and grabs ahold of his arm in case he does manage to activate it and starts to inadvertantly go through.
"What, like 'critique the art?', I hated those classes. 'What we have here is a typical example of early proto-Magicism, which can easily be identified by the fact that this playing card can effing teleport you. The lines are precise, but not so precise as to fool the eye. More like to ... show the essence of the place...'" He pauses and gulps. "Is it supposed to do that?"
Solange grins and laughs. "Excellent. I was hoping you'd be able to activate it. If you wanted, you could move there by stepping forward into what you're seeing, but considering your state of dress--or rather, undress--I wouldn't suggest it. Pass your hand over the card to break the contact."
Kyril continues to stare at the card, and doesn't move. He tilts the card at different angles, and moves his head as well. "If I go through it, how do I keep a hold on it?" He leans towards the card.
She keeps her grip on his arm but doesn't stop him from stepping through the trump, if that's what he desires. "If you go through the contact will drop, leaving you stranded there."
"OK," he says, turning the card around 180 degrees. "Now I know how it works. Why does it work?" He flicks a taps the back of the card, turns it back over, and taps the front.
Solange shrugs. "Dunno. It's magic," she says, smiling. "Is this your first research project then, as a former world-class scientist who's now moved on to the Big Time? I can put you in touch with some of my more esoteric cousins who know how to create these things if you really want to know."
"Well, asking questions is usually a sign that I want to know something. I assume you don't do that differently here? Ask questions only if you don't want to know or something? Sounds like half the Atlantean Parliaments, now that I say it." He shrugs. "So, sure, that's me, Mr. World Class Science guy. Does the Big Time have a good answer for how this works? If so, who knows it?" He sits up and leans forward. "As long as your more esoteric cousin doesn't have a parrot, I'm game."
Solange smiles. "No parrot. All right, it may be awhile--most cousins are out and about--but when we come across one that makes trumps, I'll introduce you."
She leans forward and gathers her trumps back together, including the Amber trump Kyril is holding.
"So...while we're asking questions, I have another one for you." Solange retakes her seat in the overstuffed chair and sprawls. "Floating Woman--what happened from your point-of-view? Did you feel anything untoward, make any sort of contact with her at all?"
"No. Looked like a holographic projection to me, and not one that was interacting with the environment at all, until it paid attention to you."
He pauses and shifts. "What did she do? Was it like that card thing where something out there was suddenly real in your head?"
Solange thinks about that briefly, then nods. "Yeah, it felt like that. When you contact a person by trump, you touch minds. Unless they're actively hiding them, you can sense their thoughts, their emotions...
"You can also attack people through trumps, use your force of will against theirs. That's what my encounter with Floaty Woman felt like--like being attacked through a trump--except she wasn't using one.
"She established a mental connection with me just by making eye contact and I had no choice in the matter at all. That's scary shit. I don't know anyone who can do that. I remember looking in her eyes and getting lost in them, as if they had no end, like bottomless wells."
Solange leans forward and refreshes their wine glasses.
"She was looking for someone, a woman, and she wanted to know if I was that woman. When she had satisfied herself that I was not, she dropped the contact and floated away. Wierdest thing. Whole episode's still freaking me somewhat."
"I gotta say, 'not tasty to mind-eating floating women' isn't a bad thing." He shakes his head. "I don't know if I could've made it through school knowing what you did. I can just see you with Larrick and Weems. 'Actually, you're both wrong. There is a creator, but the only attention he ever paid to Pacifica was when he dropped me off for school, because he thought I'd get a well-rounded education here.' His imitation of Solange's is remarkably good. "I'd've exploded." He pauses.
She smiles, amused.
"So, while I'm distracting you from freaking out, and I have a backup plan ready if this doesn't work, why Lauderville, anyway?"
Solange's smile widens. "I don't know...might be interesting to continue my freaking just to see what you have in mind... No, okay, all right, why Lauderville."
"If you have to wonder what I have in mind, then I need to improve my game." His grin is appropriately wolfish.
She leans back and resettles herself in the chair. "To the best of my knowledge, Father had never been to Lauderville before he dropped me off. My guess is that he had a certain set of conditions in mind, shifted shadow until he came to a place where those conditions were met, and that place just happened to be Lauderville."
He nods. "So, just my dumb luck that you crossed my path, like it was dumb luck that I chose Lauderville instead of Dominia University in the midlands." He pauses. "How fine can you cut it? What's a good condition? Can he say, 'the condition is someplace where Solly will get a good education and meet a handsome and entertaining young doctor who wants to save the world and who likes pina coladas and getting caught in the rain?'"
Solange swirls the wine in her glass idly. "Hmmm, no, not really. Me getting a good education is dependent upon my actions, so it's not something Father can control with shifting. He can provide opportunity, but I still have to do the work to learn, unless all you want is the sheepskin--that's an easy condition.
"As for the rest...sure, I can shift to a place that meets those criteria. So, your next likely question is: were you naturally attracted to me or was there something metaphysical going on? Well...do you remember the Freshman Mixer? The night when we first met?"
Solange pauses and her expression turns a bit sheepish. "I shifted probability to meet someone that night that I would like and who would like me because I didn't want to be there alone. Lame, I know, but I did it anyway. You were the result."
Kyril blinks. "So, how much control do you have over things like 'He'll like me?' What can you make me do?"
"I can't make you do anything you don't want to do," she assures him wryly. "I increased by about a bazillion the probability that I would meet someone that night who would like me. If I wasn't your type, we wouldn't have met."
Solange pauses and looks at him. "I don't take this relationship for granted, Kyril," she continues softly. "There's nothing stopping you from leaving besides your decision to stay."
He waves his hand. "This is science. Make me do something. Write it down, and then do it."
"I can't make you do something against your free will," she replies, "only affect things that happen to you. You see the difference?
"You'll find a coin under the pillow beside you. Flip it, and it will land heads--every time."
He looks at her, and then reaches under the pillow. "This wasn't here earlier." He flips it once, then a few more times. Eventually he stops. He examines the coin and taps it on the table.
"So, you can find a place you've never been before and make things happen that, statistically speaking, shouldn't. Am I missing anything? Oh, yeah, and you're Kings of Everything, which given A and B, sorta makes sense. How'd you win the lottery, again?"
"And Queens of Everything, thank you," Solange clarifies in a nasally voice, then smiles. "There are also the physical differences--more endurance, less prone to sickness, faster healing rate, better-looking..."
She pauses and grins at him.
"So true, your Majesty of Everything." He bows, mockingly.
"So what did you find in that blood sample I gave you when I left Pacifica? A question of DNA recently came up, and whether we have it or something analogous."
"I poked at it a few times, and it kept not acting like I expected, so I knew it was yours."
Solange laughs and finishes off her wine.
"I was gearing up to get a grant to get the equipment I'd need to really look at it when the Pacifican Defence Forces decided that they needed Medical Doctors. If we ever go back to Lauderville, I may be able to get it back, but the duration of the emergency was such that I don't think it's viable."
Her previous smile falters somewhat. "Hmmmm."
He looks up at the ceiling, like he does when he's trying to come up with a diplomatic way of saying something. "Have you looked for doctors for your dad in places with better medical tech than Xanadu? Not that I don't like Xanadu..."
Solange waves his comment away, not offended. "Yeah, once the War was over and my relatives back and things were more stable, I took off into shadow for awhile, looking for answers. I got as far as finding a possible nanotech solution before I needed to return home abruptly. I really should go back sometime and pursue it."
She looks at Kyril. "Would you be interested in coming with me? Your medical knowledge would be extremely useful. Besides, I still owe you a vacation with eggs."
He raises an eyebrow. "How long will it take you to learn to cook eggs? Is that something you can affect? 'The eggs aren't burned yet, the carton of milk hasn't gone sour, All the shell fragments will be in his serving?'"
"I can affect eggs. You'll have the best damn eggs--or the worst damn eggs, depending on how pleasant you've been--you've ever tasted. Made to order, in the most fundamental sense."
"And nanotech isn't science fiction? Or is that the wrong question?"
"You're thinking like a flatlander," Solange says, smiling. "If I can conceive it, theoretically I can find it. Your biggest contributions will be in helping me conceive it, and in making sure it's a viable solution once we find it."
He bites his lip in the classic Kyril is thinking pose. "So if it's that easy, why haven't we found some bone-o-matic machine in shadow, strapped him to it for the requisite 15 minutes, and sent him on his merry way, threatening young men who are interested in his daughter's eggs with his intimidating eyebrows?"
Solange holds up her hands. "You phrased that last part strangely, and I am so not touching it.
"As for the rest...I said 'theoretically.' The actual 'finding' has been difficult, at least for what I'm seeking. It's very specialized."
Kyril looks her straight in the eye. "Ok, Sixty-Four Thousand dollar question. If you regenerate, and he's in pain, why not amputate and give the normal processes a chance?"
"I'm not sure we can regenerate on that level," Solange replies uncertainly. "I have an uncle who lost an arm a number of years ago and still has not regrown it back. If we amputated, we'd have no recourse if it didn't work--he'd never get out of that wheelchair, and I'm not prepared to accept that yet."
"Even if that's what's keeping him from getting better? Necrotic tissue is a bad, bad thing to hang onto for sentimental reasons." He looks up at the corner of the room. "Do you think he'd let me examine him?"
"I'm sure he would," Solange replies in a small voice, distractedly, thinking hard about the things Kyril said. She exhales after a moment and looks up at him, meeting his eyes. "I can go anywhere I can conceive in shadow, change most anything I want there to suit my desire, but I can't fix my father's legs. I've never felt this helpless over something before. It's not a feeling I like. At all."
She sets her jaw and sets down her wineglass, then sits up in her chair. "I need to go take a walk, go do something. You want to come along, or go back to sleep?"
He shakes his head. "I need to take a nap. A post-breakfast nap. You wear me out."
"Sorry. Go back to sleep. I'll catch you later."
Last modified: 2 December 2006