a 
Portuguese man-of-war Session 58

    Day Seven

    Okay, life is still good. For a while there, mostly yesterday, I had begun to suspect that it was not, but I didn't want to write about it in case something fatal occurred, you know? I mean, I wouldn't want anyone to find this and read that my final entry was really depressing. That could give a bad impression. Death is an unpleasant enough prospect without leaving rumors behind. I can't prove that reputation is vital to a productive afterlife, but it's just not what I'd want. But since the day has passed pleasantly enough, and Lyss is in bed, and, as I've suggested, life is good, I figured that now would be a splendid time to write this down, before I join her in state and forget the whole thing. Let me start with today, since it's simple enough and really what I'd prefer to preserve should I lose consciousness before completing this. I tried to pursue the questions which Dara planted in my mind. Now, I realize that this is exactly what she intended, since if she merely wished to discomfit me she made it abundantly clear that she needn't have relinquished any secrets in order to do so. But, you see, I believe that by learning the truth I can negate her threat. I mean, I don't even care who my real father is; Gant has always filled that role admirably, and I never concerned myself with Mother's momentary lovers anyhow. Why should I? So this is purely academic. Knowledge is the only thing of value, second only to the love of friends. Well, and human welfare in general, but that comes later. I mean, it came up sooner, and actually happened yesterday, but I said that I'd discuss yesterday when I'm through with today... As I was saying, the more I learn about these Jesbys and the truth of Dara's claim, the more I know of myself, and the less she can ever withhold from me. Actually, she's made a grave error, since now I realize that she possesses information about me. This does not make her important; it makes me so, for why should she bother to gather this knowledge or dangle it if I did not rank highly in someone's estimation? Enough. At any rate, enough for now. I will not engage in speculation on this subject. The records failed me, and Lord Benedict proved of only general use. The only source for this information should be Llewella herself. Any other option is unfair to her, her discretion, and her privacy. Besides, just as her lovers are none of my concern, neither should my questions bother her. Tomorrow I will ask her. For now, I say that the rest of the day passed in friendship, showing to Lyss the unique attractions which Rebma has to offer. So, we come to yesterday after all. Either I am not as tired as I believed or I know deep inside that this must come out (I told myself I wouldn't say "surface."). So. Yesterday, I convinced Lyss that I should go along on Ahab's "posse." I'm not sure what he means by that, but lynch mob sounds about right. But I get a few hours of sleep, eat a hearty breakfast and get to work. I've got a brilliant notion that my old "Xeno's Target" spell could be used defensively, so I cast one for Lyss then one for myself. Then I ate, and cast an open-ended one. Boring, right? Would that the day had continued thusly, for we could surely have used more copies of the thing. So I'm in the middle of the fourth one (you say, "Ah, Bartholomew. Pardon, but did you not say that you cast three?" Well, read on, MacDuff, read on.) when Lyss' voice echoes through my brain. There goes the spell, so I've only got the three. I wouldn't dwell on minutiae like this, but it's important so you get what's coming. So, she takes us top side to Ahab's "posse," don't ask me how, and it quickly becomes apparent that his wonderful plan has two parts. The first is, "Fiona and Lyss squeeze Sand out of her Shadow." The second, "We hurt her a lot." This is not a plan; it is a stated goal. A plan would go on to explain how this would be accomplished, who stands where and such. My objection is shouted down. Some guy shows up and wants to help, but Fiona won't let him. I guess he might have had a plan, so he had to stay behind. So then, poof!, we're in some Shadow. It's dry, so I'm really not the one to ask about the esthetics of the place. Fiona and Lyss get working. Time passes, about twenty minutes, and this woman, Ariana I guess, skewers this long-eared guy who was standing next to her. I assume this wasn't in the plan, but never having heard one I wouldn't know. If they could have waited a day, I'd've had plenty of Xenos hung, so maybe I could have spared one on him. That could have prevented a lot, and I wonder if using that third spell then might not have prevented the need for it later. I refuse to blame myself; I had only one spare, and I could not have known either that this would happen or that it would happen specifically to him. On the contrary, my presence spared further tragedy. Well, it allowed Lyss to spare further tragedy. I just kind of gurgled and collapsed. (Note to self -- modify Xeno to stop power words. Also, ask Gant if knowing the word is of any help. She used one twice, to particularly annoying effect, and its syllables are yet on my mind. The one that felled me is, of course, impossible to forget.) Anyway, about then I decide to use the first two Xenos, and the countdown begins. Twenty minutes later, I'm feeling stupid for wasting the spells, since they're about at two thirds power. If I'd had time, I would have given them more charge, but why put off a good plan for want of a course of action? Fortunately, the dogs came in around that time, and I felt better about myself. The spells worked, and between our shields and Felix's poor battered armor, we managed to protect Fiona. One hundred deceased canines later, some of which had to be mysteriously plucked from my spells to dispatch, Sand herself arrives. Two of us react, quickly. Fortunately, my instincts do not have the misfortune of relying on my senses, and the third spell is cast in time to stop Ariana's crossbow bolts. See, Sand is pregnant. Then I notice she's unarmored. Don't recall if she had weapons, but it was pretty much irrelevant by then, since Laughter put her in a tree. Everyone's relieved it's over, and only two of us realize it's not. Again, me and Ariana. I guess others joined in, but I wasn't looking. See, she'd used that power word, and my spell went down. The third one. Sand was vulnerable. So I throw myself in front of the tree. Then she uses the other one. Next I know, Lyss is comforting me. Then I'm in court, with Mother and Auntie Queen, and Ariana's there, and she's yelling and glaring at me. I don't know where Sand is, and I frankly don't care to. I did my best, and it was insufficient. There are several things I could have done differently, done better, but I didn't, and there it is. I did learn something though. I had always believed myself to be rash and impetuous, and maybe I am: the whole time I was out in Shadow, I never thought of myself; not once. If more of us had been so hasty, perhaps I could think of Amber without becoming nauseous. I'm getting irritable. I'm going to bed, now. Couch, rather.


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