Ossian will work on with his Trump gate. He will complete the floor and paint the walls, with distinct and somewhat weird black-and white patterns. The Patterns are made in such a way that the arriving person instictively will know where to go to leave the "station". In the end he will have electric lightning installed.
The room is complete and is as Ossian has envisioned it He knows every burl in the flooring and every swirl in the paint, and the electric lighting make it constant, although the light is harsh and seems unnatural, at least for Xanadu.
Ossian will investigate this harshness of the light (he does not mind it, but will want to know if it is stable). First he will talk with some of Random's technicians, and get their take on the nature of the light.
The electric light, when broken down with a prism, does not exhibit the same spectrum as sunlight. If it stays this way, it will be a distinctive feature of the room and the painting. However, Trump skeches don't last as long when their subject changes.
Does Ossian do or tell anyone about this? It's probably something that only an artist would notice.
Ossian will investigate some more. Is there a detectable change from one day to another? (Since optics can lead to scaringly exact measurements, Ossian will try this first.)
He will scribble a note to Random,
"Electric light is not right.
Some part dim, some too bright.
A problem? Be it might."
/Ossian
Random shows up in the space, turns the lights off and then turns them on again. He repeats that a few times.
"How's that?"
It's different. Bluer. Still not 100%.
Ossian shakes his head. "Stop. The nature of the light works, even sunlight is more pleasing. I'm more worried about permanence. If you can change the light like that, is it's distribution stable? Or will it change with time?"
Random turns and smiles at Ossian, "I can change whatever I want. I probably shifted us a tiny bit in shadow doing that, but only a little bit, because it's a new thing I brought here. If I tried to make the air into water, it'd be more work.
"And wetter."
Ossian laughs. "Please don't. More change and I will have to redo a whole week's work.
"So basically we have another line of defence here, if something should go astray with the sketch. Just change things enough, and it will break.
"On the other hand, you could make things really difficult for me, if you wanted to.
"I'm making sketches here. Would your ability to change things lessen if I made a true Trump?" Ossian looks worried "Someone will do it at some point."
Random shrugs. "Dunno. Dad certainly did things that, in retrospect, were changes to the fundemental nature of Amber and he'd be in residence a long time. Things here aren't settled yet, so they're more naturally fluid. It probably takes more je ne sais quoi to change things after a generation has lived and died here. Or maybe I'll just be more ossified."
Ossian nods. "So, I basically wasted your time here. Except for the part where I beg you not to change too much if you want my sketch to work."
Random shrugs. "If you'd like to think of it like that, I suppose. From my point of view, I got to see what you're working on, I learned something about light, and I learned not to let it change until you're done with the project I asked you to do. Conversely, you learned stuff about the fundamental nature of the universe, which may or may not be of use to you. Or maybe it's already in the Redheaded Book of Secrets."
"I don't think the answer to that question is in that Book of Secrets I haven't read. Must ask aunt Fiona."
[Random] claps his hands and walks around the room. "Anything else you need? How long until we can test-fire this thing?"
"I think I have at least a few weeks work before the big one is finished. This one," Ossian points to a card-sized sketch, "is finished.
"But I don't know if that is of any help."
Random stares at it for a moment, and then blinks, twice.
"Whoah. Don't try activating a trump when you're in the place it trumps to. It's ... weird."
He shakes his head again and smiles. "Remind me not to tell that to the kind of nephews who do things because I tell them not to."
He waves the card generally in Ossian's direction.
After that he will start painting the trump sketches. He starts with a normal card sized sketch. Then he starts working on the big canvas. He works meticously, with a tiny paintbrush.
Ossian finds that each doubling in size requires a doubling of the effort. His studies are worthwhile and helpful, and after a number of successes and instructive failures, he feels ready to tackle the final painting.
Good. He will start as soon as possible.
Ossian dives into the project. Surrounded by his various-sized sketches, the actual room, and his detailed studies and using the best materials and techniques he knows, Ossian believes that he has done everything he can to make this project a success.
When he is too drained to paint he will find Violet, and discuss the possibility of teaching royal kids with her.
She is interested, but isn't sure she knows enough to be a suitable tutor. It's hard to tell if she's modest or merely lacks confidence in her abilities.
Ossian will tell Violet that she does not need to worry. He will also tell her that half the reason he asked her is for her organisational skills - he needs one of the tutors to rein in the other.
Violet is reluctant, but is willing, for the sake of the children, to be put forward as a candidate. She does want to know which children, and seems particularly concerned about Flora's grandchildren.
Ossian tells her about Jasmine (although somehow forgetting to tell her that he thought he was Jasmines father in the first place.) He also tells Violet that Jasmine will be the first kid in line for a number of teachers, depending on their performance.
She nods, but the performance part seems to make her nervous.
He tells her that Martin says the issue Flora's grandkids is under control. Not that Violet is easy to read, but Ossian looks at her reaction to that, to see if she has seen the same as he has in Martin.
With the mention of Martin, Violet seems to shift her focus. If Martin wants her to do this, then she'll be willing. This jibes with Ossian's expectations of her based on her known and observed feelings for Martin. It's not immediately obvious to Ossian whether she's observed anything directly wrong based on her reaction here, but he might be able to draw her out on that subject.
Ossian smiles. "Maybe it could lessen Martin's worries. To know that someone he trusts might be able to tutor his child. He has many responsibilities nowadays."
"His child will not need tutoring for some years yet, but I know he values having people he trusts in his household," Violet allows. She has, Ossian has noticed, the accent of some foreign shadow he can't quite identify. "I cannot imagine he would turn his child over to someone he did not trust. Nor that the lady his wife does not trust. He relies on her for that, I think."
Ossian nods. And goes for a more direct approach. "I played with Martin yesterday. He seemed tired. I hope he is all right."
Violet nods in agreement with Ossian's suggestion. "He has been much withdrawn since he brought his wife back from Shadow and announced she was with child. I think he was not prepared for fatherhood," she confides.
Ossian smiles widely. "Of course. He'll come over it, then, I think."
"I hope so. He was much like this when he came to Amber at the time of the Sundering, and he recovered then." She sounds optimistic.
Late one evening, Garrett starts down a staircase that he hasn't seen since his pattern walk; the one that leads into the basement. There is no need for secrecy this time. While his mission might be frowned upon, it has not been forbidden, to his knowledge. The prisoner could have necessary information that should not be allowed to go to rot.
Besides, Garrett felt bad for the guy.
The young prince wound down and down the stairs. At one point, it occurred to him that he'd have to come back up this way. He started to grimace but remembering his patternwalk, he chuckled realizing that no matter how high, the stairs were truly the easy way out.
At the bottom, he checked in with the guard and asked where he could find the prisoner named Kyril.
The guard points out a hallway. "Last on the left, it's got the lights on."
[Assuming he follows this advice...]
Garrett approaches and finds the door ajar. Inside a moderately well appointed room he sees Kyril arranging things around a round-ish table. He's apparently heard Garrett in the doorway.
"Did you send for the ice?," he says, then looks up.
"Prince Garrett! I thought you were someone else!"
From the doorway, Garrett looks around in amazement. "This is ... different. Good thing you weren't imprisoned in the Old Country."
He enters the room, feeling a bit relieved by the state of the living conditions. "Who were you expecting?" he asks.
"Now? Gilt. Later? A bunch of poker players. Once the King found out I played, this was, according to Ash, inevitable."
"Ha! That's for sure," Garrett cackles. "I'd love to play if you don't already have a full table. Is there time to talk a bit first before folks show up though? I had a few questions I hoped you could help with."
"Of course, your highness. We are somewhat irregular and there are cocktails until we all show up." His mouth quirks up in a small smile. "I'm always first, of course.
"I suspect we have at least a few minutes until anyone else arrives." He moves to a bar. "May I get you a drink?"
"Sure. Whatever you've got for a dark beer will suffice, thanks," Garrett replies.
As Kyril fetches the drink (assuming he does), the prince selects a seat at the table and leans back in the chair. "I've heard recently that Solange might have had a run-in with our mysterious Queen of Air and Darkness. What can you tell me about it?"
Kyril snorts and almost loses his beer. "Solange calls her 'Floaty Woman'. Mentioning her to the King of Paris is a way to get him to tell you what to do."
He pauses, as if considering how much to say. "Solange is really your best bet for information on her. I saw an image that was like a hologram--3D, but not really there. Solange said it talked inside her mind. She said it was looking for someone."
Garrett's eyes narrow at Kyril's description. "That's just it. Solange isn't here to ask and... well, it got me to wondering if perhaps that 'Floaty Woman's' influence might have something to do with that. How did Solange act after the encounter? Did she seem herself?"
Kyril bites his lower lip and after a moment replies. "Well, yes. Stubborn. Frustrated that she couldn't jump in and fix everything immediately. Unwilling to accept authority."
He takes another drink. "When you're a girl and you're much smarter than everyone around you, you learn at a very young age to fight like hell when you're right and everyone else is listening to some bigger, dumber, older guy. It sets a pattern, and unless you know how to deal with it, it's easy to trigger in a woman who used to be that girl.
"I could never have handled Solange if I hadn't had a smarter older sister. I knew just what I was seeing.
"Anyway, just about everything here seemed designed to push her buttons, and send her storming off after some wild hare, like her idea to find cybernetic replacement legs for Gerard.
"Solly thinks that if she succeeds, her misdeeds will be forgotten."
Something about Kyril's last comment prompts a curious look from Garrett, but before he can follow up on it....
From the door another voice replies. "She may be right, at that." Gilt Winter is standing at the door, followed by a guard with a large bucket of Ice. Gilt points him towards a sideboard along the wall.
Garrett turns to Gilt. "You think she has a chance at that?" he asks, intrigued. "Gerard's not known for being easily moved."
Gilt nods. "The nature of kingdoms is they're run by Kings, Prince Garrett. She wasn't banished by Prince Gerard, but by Gerard, regent for King Random.
"If Prince Gerard becomes convinced she's learned what he wanted her to learn, he'd petition Random to lift the banishment.
"Given her present endeavors, that's not going to happen immediately, unless she's right."
Gilt looks at the table. "Will you be playing with us this evening, your highness?"
Garrett nods with a glance over at Kyril. "Yes. I'm looking forward to it," he replies, then adds, "So does anyone know where she is? Solange, I mean?"
"Tell the Steward to provision us for another," Gilt tells the guard, dismissing him.
Kyril laughs. "Sort of. I know where she was going." He looks at Gilt. "If she went where she was planning to go, she's trying to sneak onto a top secret hospital station in the middle of a space war about a hundred parsecs from Earth."
Gilt nods and Kyril continues. "She called her father when she got arrested in that shadow before, so we don't think she'll let herself get into too much trouble."
Gilt continues. "She wants to find a technology that will let Prince Gerard grow back his legs."
"More power to her if she can do it," Garrett says somewhat dubiously. He purses his lips in thought, then adds, "If she could call home from there, she should be able to receive a trump call as well. I need to know what she knows about a 'floaty woman'.
"If I talk to her, what should I tell her about your, um, status, Kyril?" he asks, glancing from Kyril for the personal answer to Gilt for the official one.
Gilt smile. "Tell her not to try to rescue him." Kyril laughs. "Yeah, that didn't work out so well. Tell her I'm fine and that I've landed on my feet and that I don't think she should get shot again unless I'm nearby to help." Kyril finishes. "That wasn't here, that was in Pacifica."
Garrett raises a curious eyebrow, but doesn't comment.
The door opens again, and stewards arrive with platters of food, followed by Soren and Ash.
Ash bows. "Your highness."
Soren nods from the neck. "Prince Garrett," he says by way of greeting. "We tend to be informal here in the Jailhouse Cardroom, but Ash isn't very good at that."
Ash smiles. "What can I say? Once a monarchist, always a monarchist..."
"His gold is as good as anyone's," Garrett laughs. He loads up a plate and settles in at the table, looking more relaxed than any of the others have probably ever seen him. When the game begins, they'll find that while he's not Random's caliber, he's not a bad card player for someone his age. Years of midnight poker in the stables are beginning to pay off.
Fletcher rises earlier than usual to prepare for his trip to Rebma. As he wanders through the palace on a quest for coffee he finds Ossian sitting in a window facing west, with his sketchbook in his hand. Ossian seems lost in thought.
Fletcher pauses. "Good morning. Or are you having a very late night?" He smiles. "I'm Fletcher. You're Ossian, right?"
Ossian nods. "I'm just up early enough to see the sun light up the ocean." he points out through the window, where, far out, the sea reflects the first beams of the day. "Sunrise here is way too late for my habits. And I'm not the only one, it seems?"
"I've got a big trip ahead of me. Off to Rebma soon. Speaking of sea reflections." Fletcher looks out the window. "Not the old reflection story really hold water, when it comes to Rebma. Have you been there lately?"
Ossian nods. "Depends on what you mean with lately. When I and Brita arrived, some weeks back in our timeline, they were preparing for a siege. Moire was still in power. We went down in the basement. I have no idea what time it was then. Things went very weird."
"Wow. Were you on good terms with Moire then? Every story I'd heard so far said she didn't get along with very many members of our family. I was hoping I might get a look in their basement myself."
Ossian shakes his head. "No, I have never met the woman. At least not knowingly. Actually she was probably not even there when we were. I am quite good friends with her granddaughter though.
"We were looking for our cousin Meg. And went to the basement quite fast. Regrettably. It's a fascinating place.
"Do you know any sorcery?"
Fletcher shakes his head. "Not the kind you mean. I..ah...don't know that I've met cousin Meg. Did you find her in Rebma?"
Ossian shakes his head. "We grew up at the same orphanage. In Abford. Have you heard of the place?
"The short version of the story is that Dara kidnapped Meg, and that we went looking for her in Rebma, with very little to go on."
Mention of his 'niece' gets Fletcher's attention faster than a pot of coffee. "I've heard of Abford, at least a bit. I wasn't aware Dara had ties to Rebma. Now I'm doubly curious. Did you find out what Dara's interest in Meg was? And what led you to believe the path led to Rebma?"
Ossian shrugs "According to Dara, Meg is her daughter. As for Rebma, a Rebman bracelet was left with Meg at the orphanage where we grew up. How did you hear about Abford?"
"I heard of it during my preparation for my trip to Rebma. I heard that some of Huon's forces that he led against Rebma were from there. Was there any sign of Dara in Rebma when you went looking there?"
Ossian shakes his head. Draws a few penstrokes. "No. But we found Huon in the time-twisted tunnels in the basement. That's why I suggested sorcery."
"Time twisting? I didn't think that would normally be possible so close to a Pattern. What was it like?"
"I'm not sure the Pattern was fully working, but it was cleary not dead either. We met Huon down there. And his brother Pinabello. But if we were before or after the current time is not certain."
Fletcher's brain is spinning up into higher gear at this point, even without coffee. "What signs of the Pattern did you encounter? What did it feel like?" He has more questions, but has learned to give people time to answer.
Ossian shrugs "I'm quite unaccustomed to be around working Patterns. Can't say I felt anything special. The Pattern was glowing. Pinabello was walking, but fell. We tried to Trump him away, which went horribly bad."
"Yes, I've wondered about the risks of trumps. How gruesome was it? Oh, and where'd you get a trump of Pinabello? I thought he wasn't from Amber."
Ossian shakes his head. "No. We swam over the Pattern. I Trumped Caine, who yanked all three of us out of there. Strangely we managed to pull Caines whole office out of Castle Amber in the process. We got locked into some kind of weird paper universe. As if inside a Trump. When we left, the Pattern had started some kind of waterspout thing."
"Swimming over the Pattern, eh? That's very clever. However did you escape from the paper universe?"
"Clever, but maybe not wise. We Trumped out. Took a lot of effort. Pinabello did not survive that process." Ossian grins "What will you do down there?"
"Don't discount clever. That was some quick thinking. Me? Down there? I can only hope I don't sleep with someone important. What happens in Rebma doesn't necessarily stay in Rebma. Their women can be vicious. Or so I've heard." Fletcher's expression might be either hopeful or humorous. He continues regardless, "I'm going down there as a neutral party to say 'Hello' on behalf of Uncle Random. Strictly a family function, nothing to do with politcs." Fletcher smiles.
Ossian chuckles. "Their women... I have not met their viciousness, but Lucas. So I guess you are certain there will be politics?
"Have you talked with Vialle? She might have important information."
"Her Majesty was gracious enough to give me the benefit of her experience in Rebma over tea. I'm sure it will prove invaluable in navigating the Rebman court in these trying times. But what about you? Where will you running off to next in the service of the Crown?"
"Amber, I guess. I'm the rescue mission for all the people left there." Ossian says with a shrug. "That's the idea anyway.
"After that, I'm going in search of Reid." Ossian thinks for a moment. "Have you met him?"
"No, I've only heard of him. I've seen his trump, but didn't bother to ask for one. At the time I thought it wouldn't be needed. Now all the trump I have are of dead people. What's he been up to?"
"He has a daughter he doesn't know about. I'm her guardian until we get hold of him.
"He was more or less imprisoned for eons somewhere in Shadow until the Sundering. Now he's lost again."
Fletcher updates his mental family tree. "I take it he isn't reachable via trump then? Is his daughter at court in Xanadu, or hidden away as my father complains so many relatives seem to do with their children?"
"No, she's here. I will not hide her." Ossian shrugs "I think she is safer known and in the open than hidden.
"And no, no-one has reached him by Trump. I will try, and might get lucky. Have a few tricks too.
"I think he does not want to be found, which complicates things considerably."
"Even if he's in hiding, if there was a way to get a message to him, that might help. Do you have any idea at all where he is? There might be a way to use the Pattern to send a message. But that's chancy and not necessarily secure. But you can't make someone answer a trump call, can you?"
"I think I might be able to." Ossian says with a smile "But I cannot make Reid answer. Besides, Martin would probably kill me, which would not help Reid's daughter at all."
"You think there is a way to use the Pattern to send a message? Please elaborate."
"Theoretically, if he is somewhere in Shadows, probability can be manipulated to send a letter, or perhaps even a messenger that will eventually cross his path. Timing is the tricky thing. If he's to be gone for another thousand years though, it might be worth the effort. Is enforcing trump protocol part of Martin's job as Knight Commander of the Order of the Card?"
Ossian laughs. "One would think so. No. He has taken it on himself to eradicate all forms of Trump abuse, after what happened to him on the Pattern.
"I will go looking for Reid before trying Pattern to send him a message." Ossian frowns "Also, I do not like the prospect of that message being intercepted by Reid's enemies."
"Yes, security would be an issue with that approach. I think of it as something equivalent to a postcard. Anyone handling the mail can read it. Do you have an idea of where to start looking?"
"Not really. I will talk with Brita I think, since she might be the person who knows him best. Any suggestions?"
"Well, you could play detective. Trace back his steps to places he's stayed before. Look up old girlfriends, or the daughters of old girlfriends. Or try looking into whatever he might have been pursuing when he was last spotted. But infinity is a long way, and he'll probably be in the last place you look. Sorry."
Ossian smiles. "I will try. " Then he pauses. "The only one who is old enough is your father. I never spoke with him.
"Is there the slightest chance he would help me?"
A smile spreads across Fletcher's face so fast that it would become a burst of laughter save for the fact that Fletcher looks away quickly and closes his eyes for several moments. After forcibly regaining his composure Fletcher turns to Ossian with a straight face and says, "Benedict's philosophy is to let one find the answers to one's problem alone, unless his intervention is absolutely necessary. Where 'necessary' is defined by him. It promotes self-reliance, but some lessons are learned the hard way. Just ask my sister. Lilly that is."
"Hey." Ossian chuckles and pokes Fletcher with the back of his pen. "Feel free to laugh, cousin. I know it was a wild shot."
Ossians eyes narrow for a moment. "How did you manage to stay away from the family for so long?"
Fletcher's expression darkens as he reflects. "Leaving was hard, but after a few years I just got busy. I didn't mean to stay away for so long, just one thing led to another. I'd been in touch with Granddad. I was traveling a lot, and it wasn't convenient to travel back and forth. Some of the places I went were pretty far out, or in at least one case required a lot of work to get around. I was pretty sure that Granddad would call me if anything came up. After a certain point he wasn't calling me on the trumps any more, and I couldn't get through to him either. Now, of course, I know that all my trumps are of dead people. So I had to get back under my own steam."
Ossian nods. "Parts of that sounds like Reid's tale. Especially the part where some places take a lot of work to get around. What kind of place was it? Why was it so hard to get around?"
Fletcher considers for a moment, and then asks, "Are you familiar with overlapping congruent realities? In this case reality with a lower-case r. Ever heard of stuff like Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, the Soulcake Duck, or the Ethereal plane? It happens when you've got someone occupying a shadow living by different rules than most people in the shadow. They can be an apparition, or have time flow differently for them but still interact with the base shadow." Fletcher starts to get excited about his explanation. "OK. So. There was a knot that had some high potential for creating a major shadow disturbance. It turned out to be some sort of gravitic singularity, like a black hole or something. It was twisting up its home shadow and was actually bigger than most shadow phenomenon tend to get. The only way to get around it was to navigate through a congruent reality of its shadow, which took a lot longer than usual because the whole universe was basically twisted up, and fragile, and some of the congruencies were collapsed altogether. A definite navigation hazard. I tweaked some of the probabilities around it so it should be completely collapsed and safe by now, but man it was big."
Ossian nods. "I wonder... I bet Reid was not as skilled with the Pattern as you seem to be. My impression was that his problems was something else."
Fletcher shrugs. "Could be. Shadow's a big place. But it must have been something heavy-duty if it blocked the Pattern's mastery over shadow. Speaking of Pattern alternatives... I've been thinking it might be useful if someone around here actually had a trump of me, at least for that 'Trump Booth'. I don't suppose you'd be interested in helping out with that, would you?"
"I would love to, but I think neither you nor I have the time needed. at the moment. It would take me a week, at least, to make a useful sketch. However, I could make a few preliminary sketches here and now. That way I could probably make a sketch even in your absence, should you go missing."
"That sounds excellent. Are there any special preparations we should make?"
Ossian shakes his head. "We start here. Then we switch places so that you get closer to the window, and we get more daylight on you, and less on my sketch book."
The morning after he has talked with Fletcher, Ossian goes looking for Venesch. He knows Venesch rises early, and finds him outdoors, doing his Tai-Chi excercises.
Ossian waits on a respectful distance until Venesch is finished. Then he approaches quietly.
"Master Venesch?"
"My Lord Ossian," he replies. His countenance is guarded, even moreso than usual, as if he does not know what to expect.
"I have a proposal for you. You don't have to answer before the duel." Ossian does not wait for an answer. "I am looking for a teacher for Reid's daughter. Someone who can teach her how to fight. Someone who can do that playfully with a small girl."
Venesch dries his face on his towel. "Hmm. An interesting problem. Do you have candidates in mind that I can evaluate for you?"
Ossian smiles. "Just one. If you think it's suitable. That candidate is you."
Venesch does not smile. It is possible that he has practiced "not smiling". He's very good at it.
"I would not think so. I am impatient with children, considered a liability by my King, and am likely to die soon. I have not had an unskilled pupil in half a century and I might ruin such a pupil.
"Were I otherwise suitable, I would say that you could bring me an expert and I would make her a master, but I do not think that would be permitted."
Ossian bows his head slightly. "Ok. I will look elsewhere, if you are as unpatient as you say. And I have never seen you with children, but imagined you would adjust." Ossian shrugs. "There is a certain amount of satisfaction to be gained by working with kids. But if you don't want that, I will not ask again."
Venesch bows back. "Good. Ara-to first, naka-to next, then the shiage-to. You damage the honed blade with ara-to, but you waste the shiage-to on anything not already well polished.
"Do you wish me to find you additional candidates? I am familiar with many of the beginning and intermediate instructors of note in Amber."
Ossian smiles. "If you could do that, I would be grateful."
Venesch nods, his head moving only as much as it needs to do in order to acknowledge the request. "I serve at your pleasure, Lord Ossian. If you will tell my your requirements, in detail, will be able to begin. I will not know the best candidate unless I know what you wish the girl to know. Sword, or fighting in general? A particular style? And to what degree of competence is she to be trained?"
Ossian smiles "First: She is only a little girl, so we want a teacher who can do it playfully, and only teach her defence until she's old and responsible enough to learn offence. Second: In the end she needs to become at least as competent as me, preferably more. But that is in the long run. Not for many years yet. Third: Fighting in general, also without weapons is necessary. She needs to be able to defend herself. Fourth: This is only a small part of all the training she needs. We will also teach her arts, reading and writing and so on."
Venesch gathers his things and prepares to leave. "Thank you, I shall compile a list for you this evening. One further question, if I may. How soon do you wish to interview candidates? The selection in Xanadu is as yet still limited, although the idea that such placements were possible might encourage some of the more senior weaponmasters to move here."
"We are not in a hurry. I will travel back to Amber in a few weeks time. If your list contains people still in Amber that should not be a problem."
Venesch bows. "Very well, Lord Ossian. Is there anything else?"
Ossian smiles "No. I look forward to your list.
"Don't get killed. We will miss you."
Last modified: 3 August 2011