Chapter 4

Elisabeth

After the phone conversation with Lachlan, Elisabeth Van Horn rejoined the bracelet party. Wraith, Katherine, and her sister Emily were busy stringing beads to make friendship bracelets. The table, a hundred-year-old white oak dining table, had a selection of assorted beads and leather thongs for friendship bracelets spread out over it. The Taylor Swift concert had been an enormous hit with the girls. With all of them, really. Wraith, in particular, had been enchanted by the spectacle of the concert. The girls were singing and laughing. The finished bracelets sat in one of her crystal bowls, glowing with the power Katrinka had unconsciously imbued into them. Her magic as a maker was blossoming out in new directions every day.

"That was Lan. He's on his way down here. Wanted to make sure we were going to be around."

"That's odd. He's been avoiding us for months. Did he say why?"

"He didn't say."

Katherine frowned. "Typical Lan. Dealing with him lately is like talking to this table. Enough about him. We have bigger issues. Mandy called. Things are increasingly grim in Emory. Everybody is fighting with each other. The manna surge is in full flow. She wants us up there."

"Think we should go?"

"Maybe. I'd like more information, though. I wish Niamh was here. Has she called?"

"No, and I'm getting worried."

Their newly formed cyfamod contained an unlikely assemblage of females: Niamh Harpe, a panther-shifter; Katherine Keenan, a warrior witch; Wraith, a half-blood Asrai and cold-blooded assassin; and finally, Katrinka, a nine-year-old wolf shifter who possessed some unusual magical abilities.

The deirfiúracha m'fhuil binding that she had cast last year in Oldtown had melded them into something much closer than a normal coven. It had given them access to much power and had kept them safe, but it had come at a price.

That closeness had been the first challenge when they arrived back in Seattle. The lack of privacy, an unforeseen consequence of the binding, meant that their inner lives were now an open book to the others. No secrets anymore. While Katherine and Elisabeth were used to living in a coven, the same was not true for Niamh and Wraith. They were, by nature, solitary beings. Living like this rubbed them raw. Finally, Katherine and Elisabeth had saved them from open conflict by putting their heads together and coming up with a mind-filter spell that gave everybody some privacy. But not before the memories of each of their sexy times with Lachlan Quinn bubbled up.

While Elisabeth herself had harbored embarrassing sexual fantasies about Lachlan ever since he had wandered into her library, Katherine, Wraith, and Niamh had actually slept with him. When those memories surfaced, they produced an extremely volatile blend of arousal and jealousy. Niamh and Wraith had almost killed each other fighting until the magic of their binding knocked them unconscious. Luckily, Elisabeth had muttered a quick forget spell to spare Katrinka's young mind from the details.

One thing they all absolutely agreed upon was that Lachlan Quinn must never know how they felt.

Katherine poured herself a cup of tea, sat down, picked up a hank of silk thread, and started stringing beads.

"Do they expect you to call a circle?"

"What's a circle?" asked Charlie.

"It's a meeting between covens," Katherine said. "And yes, that was the unspoken message. I bet the crafters have pressured Lan to come down and ask us to move up there. Probably Mistress Marigold. Lan can't refuse her anything."

"The question is, what are we going to do?"

Wraith frowned. "I'm worried about Niamh as well. I knew I should have gone with her. Something is wrong. I can't feel her."

"Let's table this until we talk to Lan."

Chapter 5

Quinn

When Quinn knocked on the door of Elisabeth's carriage house, two boys, each wearing headsets around their necks, answered his knock.

"Hey, Jeffery. How you doing, Elron?"

"Hi, Mr. Quinn. Come on in. They're in the other room," Jeffery said with a grimace. "Singing. Been doing it all day."

"How come you aren't in there with 'em?" Quinn asked.

"We got a job. Video games." He grinned. "Mr. Anderson sent down some for me and El to test. Said he'd pay us and everything!"

"Most excellent," Quinn said and presented his fist for the boys to bump. Jeffery had come a long way from the skinny slave boy Niamh had rescued.

"Hey guys, since the girls got to go to the concert, how would you like to go camping sometime? Eastern Washington or maybe Montana, and do some fishing? Every boy ought to know how to fish."

Jeffery's eyes got big. "Really? You mean it?"

"Yup. Just the three of us and maybe Gus. We'll have us an adventure."

He looked at Elron, who was nodding enthusiastically.

"Y...Yes, sir. We'd love that."

"Well, I'll ask your moms and see if we can set it up."

"Everybody's in the library, Mr. Quinn."

"Thanks, guys."

The two boys went into the other room, whispering excitedly.

"Honey, I'm home," Quinn yelled out. He set the bags full of pints of ice cream on a hallway table.

With ear-piercing squeals, two little girls came running out of Elisabeth's kitchen and jumped into his arms.

"Oof, you guys are getting big."

"Uncle Lan, are you sayin' we're fat?"

"Course not, munchkin. But now that you mention it..."

They both giggled. He set them down, picked up the bags of ice cream, and followed them into the library.

"We're making friendship bracelets. You should see how many we got at the concert."

"We Swifties like to exchange 'em."

"Yeah, we're Swifties now."

"I guess so. I heard you singing clear out on the street."

"Uncle Lan, thank you so much for the tickets. We had a fun time. Everybody sang all the way home from the concert, even Wraith and Niamh."

They finally stopped chattering, so Quinn could see who else was there. Elisabeth sat at the end of the table, which was covered with plastic boxes full of different colors and shapes of beads. Katie frowned at him. No surprise there. He loftily ignored Miss Grumpy Pants.

Elisabeth's sisters, Emily and Cassandra, were measuring out lengths of brightly colored cord.

They all stared at him.

"What's wrong?" he asked suspiciously. "Why are you all staring at me?"

Wraith came out of the kitchen carrying a bottle of wine and snacks.

"Oh good, you finally shaved off that disgusting beard and got a haircut?"

"Very funny. I got ambushed when I had to take the dog here to get groomed."

The girls, by this time, were down on their hands and knees, petting the yellow dog, whose tail was wagging rapidly.

"What's her name, Uncle Lan?"

"Uh, no idea, Charlie. I just call her the yellow dog."

Charlie slowly turned and blinked her giant blue eyes at him. "Uncle Lan, yellow dog is a terrible name," she said.

Katherine and Emily started laughing.

"Her name is Molly," Katrinka said firmly. "Anyone could tell just by looking at her. Molly McGillicuddy."

The dog licked her face. Apparently, she liked her new name.

"Okay, then I guess that's her name, all right. Thanks for telling me."

"What is in the bags, Lan?" Wraith's nose was twitching.

"Just some old ice cream I picked up from a dumpster behind Salt and Straw. I thought I'd leave a pint with you guys, in case you wanted some."

He grinned at the outraged look on Wraith's face. She and her sister Saria were serious ice cream-a-holics. Saria especially had been ever since Quinn had brought her across from Oldtown.

Elisabeth snatched the bags out of his hands. "Just ignore him. He thinks he's funny; he should stick to pounding nails. Get spoons. Hurry, girls, get spoons for everybody, except for Uncle Lan. Smarty-pantses don't get treats." She yelled out, "Hey, Jeffery and Elron, come and get some ice cream!"

She started stacking pints on the table to squeals of delight as all the different flavors emerged.

Charlie came out of the kitchen with bowls and spoons as the boys came running.

"Hey, Em," Quinn said quietly, "got a minute? I need some lawyerly advice."

"Sure, Lan. Let's go into the kitchen. We can talk there. The ice cream should keep this lot busy."

Quinn filled her in on the pictures and what he remembered about Sierra's visit to his work site.

"Okay, we can stop this. How should I search for them?"

He took a deep breath. "Hashtag sexy carpenter."

Giggles erupted behind him.

Quinn turned around to find five faces looking in through the kitchen doorway, each holding a pint of ice cream and a spoon, all looking at a tablet that Elisabeth held.

Then the smiles morphed into frowns.

"Asshole," Katherine growled. "Why don't you keep your shirt on like decent people? What the fuck was she doing around you taking pictures?"

Quinn felt a headache coming on. This could easily escalate into a major shitstorm. "Number one, I didn't know she was taking pictures of me. Her crew was supposed to take pictures of the cabin for some architecture magazine. Number two, I don't need you nutcases getting involved."

Wraith was unsmiling. "Do not worry your little brain, Mr. Sexy Carpenter. There is a simple solution. I will deal with her tomorrow."

Emily gave her a startled look. "I think we can come up with a less final solution. I'll take care of it. But if it's gone viral, it's out there forever."

"We could egg her car," Charlie said helpfully.

Katherine laughed and gave her a high five.

Elisabeth ignored the byplay. "Wowzers, Lan. Where did you get those glyphs? I've seen nothing like them. Could I look at them? Who inked them? Where did the design come from?"

He didn't answer. The memory of the troll women holding him down while they burned the glyphs into his back was not something he was going to share.

Time to change the subject.

He turned to Elisabeth and Katherine. "Mistress Marigold came to visit this morning. She wants you guys to come to Emory. According to her, things are going to hell up there. The manna surge is taking its toll."

"We've heard that as well," Katherine frowned. "We were just talking about it. I'm afraid the Red Queens are going to get involved unless Althea can settle things down. At any rate, it's coven business. You need to keep your big nose out of it."

"I have no intention of getting involved," Quinn said. "I have problems of my own. Where is Niamh? I have an issue with the wolf-kin over in Chelan."

"She is over there right now doing a job for the Kin Council. What do you mean, problems?"

Quinn quickly sketched out what was going on in Opari. "I'm sure the Alpha has something to do with that. Where there is trouble, he is sure to be behind it. Anyway, I have to go to Oldtown and root out some answers." He wistfully watched the little girls sharing their flavors of ice cream.

Katherine noticed the look and whispered, "They are doing well, Lan. You don't need to worry. Little Kat is coming into her magic. With her blend of nature magic and her creativity, she has all the makings of a unique maker. Elisabeth has been working with her to help her understand and deal with her visions. Charlie is becoming pretty talented as well."

"A maker?"

"We're finding out that Kat can craft amulets of power using natural elements almost as well as Anna," Katherine said proudly. "Thank you so much for understanding that she needs to be with us. Our little sister would be lost away from our cymafod. By the way, Taylor Swift was something else. We all got to feel like little girls again. Especially Wraith. Singing and dancing--it was so much fun."

Quinn let the mind-boggling thought of Wraith singing and dancing go. "What are you talking about? She'd be lost? What did you guys do to her?" Quinn's face reddened. The controls on his temper, always a bit on edge around witch-crafters, began to fray.

"Stop. Let me explain before you go off half-cocked." She quickly sketched out how Katrinka had accidentally been bound with them when Elisabeth had cast deirfiúracha m'fhuil binding. "We did not know when you would find us. It was the only way we could ensure that the Daoine's mind control spell no longer had the power to compel any of us."

"Fuck," Quinn muttered softly.

"It's a good thing, Lan. Don't worry. We will protect our little sister with our lives."

"Okay," he grumbled. "Look, I have to go down to Oldtown. Could I leave the yel...Molly dog with you guys? Also, please do me a favor when you guys go up to Emory: stay at Keeper House. Mrs. Periwinkle will welcome you guys with open arms and keep you safe from anything this world has to offer. The Red Queens bother me."

He gave the girls a hug, shouted a goodbye to the boys, and walked out to retrieve his pack from the truck.

He never reached it.

Chapter 6

Deidra

Despite her training, D'eidra, heiress apparent of the Dökkálfar Rebus Forge, found herself gawking like an ignorant bellows-slave at Uonaidh, queen mother of all the Sidhe, as she lounged in her throne watching the dancers. Her polished ash-wood throne was cunningly set into a hollow of a massive white oak tree. The ancient tree, its roots many times thicker than the torso of a troll, curled deep into a granite outcropping. Its branches draped with moon flower vines that swept over the bower to form a sweet-scented vaulted canopy. Lavender pixie moss carpeted the bower floor. The moss gave off a soothing fragrance with each pace of the dancers.

A light breeze whispered through the branches, a background for the musicians hidden behind veils of silk.

D'eidra was abuzz with excitement. For the first time, her mother allowed her to attend court--and the Festival of Lughnasadh marked the beginning of her majority. Although she was trying very hard not to show it, the high-born dancers, Daoine and Dökkálfar Sidhe, awed her. Their radiant forms, clad in shimmering gowns and crowns that looked like woven starlight, whirled and twisted as they danced the stately intricate pavanes and galliards to the fairy music of the Court musicians.

At her side stood the Lady Iris, the Messenger of the Royal Court, and her mother, Ilyrana, Exarch of Forge Rebus.

Her mother's deep violet eyes flicked over the dancers with practiced disdain, as if they were all dancing for her amusement. "Watch and learn, my daughter," she whispered. "Formal events are ever times of extreme peril. That is why the young are not allowed at these things. A foolish misstep or casual jest, and a blood feud could erupt between a house or forge that can last for centuries."

She turned and whistled a soft query in the fluting birdsong of High Alfar to Lady Iris. "Will he be amenable, do you think?"

The Lady Iris's jade-colored cat eyes narrowed in thought. "I believe he will. You must know, though, this Keeper is unpredictable at best. We will have to wait and see."

In spite of herself, D'eidra blurted, "He is a mere human, isn't he? Humans do as they are told. Why is there a doubt? What we will--will be."

Her mother's fingers abruptly flashed in their Forge's secret language. "Daughter, be silent!"

D'eidra's face flushed, then went pale as milk with embarrassment. To make such a mistake in this environment was unforgivable. But the thought still lingered. A human? Her mother was trying to frighten her.

She signed a meek query. "Mother, why have you summoned me here?"

"Daughter, you are on the cusp of adulthood. It is time for the last phase of your training. Be silent now and pay attention."

Queen Uonaidh gestured for the three of them to enter a room behind the throne.

Three female trolls clad all in black rose to their feet as they entered. D'eidra desperately tried to maintain her public face as their eyes swept over her. The youngest of the three, who appeared to be her age, winked at her.

"The Vistomer," her mother's twitching fingers informed her.

D'eidra felt a stab of anxious awe. The Guardians of Alfheim. Mothers of all species frightened their children with tales of these three demi-gods.

The Queen sang, "Call him forth if you would, my sisters."

Her mother signaled. "The tallest is Malak the Seer. She is without peer when it comes to arcane sorcery. Be still."

The three females joined hands, muttered a wyrd that hurt D'eidra's ears.

"It is done, Uonaidh. We hope you are comfortable with the consequences of enlisting him."

Queen Uonaidh nodded.

As they waited in silence, two slaves set the table with a colorful array of edible flowers, fruits, and vegetables.

D'eidra's mind was awash with questions she dared not ask. After the humiliating reprimand, she was determined to be quiet, but that did not stop her from wondering what was going on. When the summons had come from her mother, she had been in the healer's cottages recovering from a broken wrist acquired after a foray into the borderlands along the edge of the Murk. Unlike the others of her age and class, her training had been brutal and relentless. As her mother's heir, D'eidra had been lessened in power games like the others of her kind, but her mother had insisted that wasn't enough. She thrust her into years of brutal combat training. D'eidra was now as adept as any of her bodyguards and, given the assassin skill sets she'd mastered, far more dangerous. Despite all that training, she was untested. She wondered if that would change now.

She flinched when a scar-faced human appeared in the middle of the room. D'eidra's first thought was outrage. He was ill-mannered and ill-clad for court. His clothes were no better than those of one of her mother's forge slaves. How dare a slave be so casual in front of his betters? She felt her mother's warning hand on her shoulder and quieted herself.

His green eyes flickered from green to solid black as he swept an assessing gaze around the room. His eyes paused at her mother.

Arrogant was her next thought. After a slight nod, he met the Queen's gaze frankly instead of the customary downcast head and eyes. Slaves did not look directly at their betters, especially the Queen of all the Sidhe.

The guards, as one, stepped forward to punish the shameful disregard of custom.

Combat-schooled as she was, she noticed in shock the being's subtle shift in posture.

This human prepares for combat! Does he think to fight? Does a mouse think to fight the lion?

Instinctively, her body moved in response.

Her mother's hand instantly dug into her shoulder, warning her to be still.

Did this slave think himself capable of besting one of the people?

"He doesn't look like much." She flushed when she realized she had uttered her thought aloud.

Her mother's fingers signed instantly:

Did you not hear what I said, you stupid girl? Have you forgotten your training? You know nothing. This human is unpredictable and extremely dangerous. You must learn to control your thoughts, not give voice to them as if you were a toddler. He may well be the most dangerous being you will ever encounter.

D'eidra scoffed--inwardly.

The Queen's raised hand quelled the guards.

"Enough," she said.

Lady Iris spoke, "Singer and Song bless you, Keeper. Please take your ease and let us discuss your petition."

Chapter 7

Quinn

Quinn stumbled as the summons fetched him across the void and dumped him into the floral bower garden that he instantly recognized as one of the palace meeting rooms of the Court of Uonaidh, Queen of the Sidhe. The Queen herself was in attendance. He'd been in her presence twice before, and each time her blend of ageless beauty and cold ferocity had awed him. Unlike most Daione, her hair was not blond or silver, but black as night, woven into a complex braid with purple flowers and green ivy. Her hand held the ceremonial ash wand of her office. One glance into those icy green eyes left no doubt this was a warrior queen.

He looked away, embarrassed to be caught staring like a rube. Instead, he turned his attention to the rest of the environment. A random thought came to him, as it always did when he was in this realm. Alfheim was a Walt Disney world. Perfect. The colors were a little too vibrant. The smells a little bit too floral. The unsettling perfection of the place was a soul-crushing weight, unfelt until the thought of self-harm seemed appealing. It was not an easy place for humankind to flourish.

He scowled at the troll women who had summoned him. The youngest, Zeba, the Healer, gave him an unrepentant smirk. As always with her, seeing him discomfited proved to be a source of endless amusement.

The Other had come out of its place deep within his core and struggled to surge to the fore and prepare for battle. It did not like or trust the world of the Sidhe.

Be at ease, brother, Quinn soothed. Combat is not the answer here.

He gathered his wits and bowed respectfully to the Queen.

"May Singer and Song bless this gathering," Quinn sang. He recognized the Dökkálfar Ilyrana and nodded to her. He didn't recognize the other Dökkálfar female; a tall, blond, blue-eyed adolescent Sidhe who looked like she could play middle blocker for a UCLA volleyball team. He made a bet with himself that she was a close relative, probably a daughter.

The queen's honor guard stood against the wall. Three of them eyed him with unconcealed hatred. The fourth, doing his job, his eyes never at rest sweept the room.

Odd. The Queen's guard was usually the best of the best.

"Singer and Song Bless you, Keeper," Lady Iris, the Queen's messenger, sang. "Take your ease."

She waved him to a table laden with brightly colored fruits and vegetables.

He nodded his thanks and gingerly sat on a slender chair that looked as if it were crafted from spider silk. He had no intention of eating anything. In the back of his brain, questions popped up. Uonaidh had granted him a private audience far too quickly. A suspiciously generous boon to a being hated by most of the Sidhe. Like a Russian doll, interactions with them always had layers. Their gifts always came with all sorts of strings.

The presence of Ilyrana, the Exarch of Rebus Forge, was another oddity.

Nothing happened by accident in this realm.

What the hell have they got me into?

His eye caught volleyball girl getting an ass-chewing from her mother. The informal tone of their house's finger language told him she was a favorite daughter. Perhaps even the heir.

Quinn gave her a grin. It was true he didn't look like much.

Why was she here? The Sidhe keep their precious young away from any sort of risk.

The three Troll Women arrayed themselves behind him.

Lady Iris sang out in the high Alfar of the Daoine court:

"You requested an audience, Lachlan Quinn. My Queen has granted it. What is it you desire?"

He stiffened inwardly.

Shit, it was going to be one of those meetings. I don't have time for this.

Vuza, the ultimate tactician, dropped a warning hand on his shoulder.

Fuck it.

"Queen Uonaidh..."

As expected, that caused an immediate reaction.

Vusa's hand spasmed on his shoulder.

The three female Sidhe seated at the table with him stared at him in open-mouthed shock.

The guards immediately surged forward, weapons free, to punish his cheek. He had just broken thousands of years of tradition and taboo by daring to address the Queen directly.

Quinn sat quietly and waited, hoping his calculations were correct.

The Sidhe Queen's icy demeanor cracked a tiny smile. She raised a quelling hand. The guardsmen retreated to their posts.

"You play a dangerous game, Lachlan Quinn," Iris sang.

"We have a dangerous situation, my lady," Quinn sang back. "I apologize for breaking tradition. I mean no insult; I merely thought to gain attention. We have little time."

He explained what he had seen in the Opari. He handed the packet of drugs he had taken to Lady Iris.

"We need to nip this in the bud. Opari is in the middle of her manna surge. Her emotions are... chaotic. Who knows how she will react to this kind of corruption in her world?"

Lady Iris didn't bother to examine the packet. She handed it to Ilyrana.

Of course. I should have known.

Quinn swallowed rue. They already knew the situation in the Opari. That might explain Ilyrana's presence here at this meeting. Unbeknownst to all, Ilyrana was the Patriarch of the Brotherhood, the ultra-secret clan of assassins. Of course, the Queen would wield such a valuable tool. Just as she would use him, he thought.

Fuck, I bet she already was. What else is going on here?

An aged white-haired Daoine burst into the room, accompanied by two of his house guards, judging by their livery.

"Why is the murderer of my son Aenrindel standing here unpunished?"

Fuck, of all times for this idiot to show up.

"Riluaneth of House Inalamin, your arrival is timely," Lady Iris sang silky soft. "Perhaps you may help us plumb a mystery." She motioned to Lady Ilyrana to hand over the packet of drugs Quinn had brought to him.

"Certainly, my Lady," the old Daoine's eyes had a reddish cast, and his features had an unusual tic instead of the usual stoic demeanor of the Sidhe. He was ill or high, a state seldom seen in the Sidhe. His eyes shifted nervously around the room. He opened the packet and touched it with a glass rod. The rod glowed purple.

"It is a potion of our manufacture. A new breakthrough, I might add, to treat certain emotional conditions. How did you come by it?"

"Opari's Keeper brought it to us. He found it in the deep of the Opari."

The tall, silver-haired being waved a bored hand. "Who cares if some fool smuggled some out to the slave peoples?"

"In the Opari, Lord Inalamin," Quinn said quietly, "all know that half the drugs in Oldtown are out of your labs, but this was in the Goddess' realm."

"Silence, Mordor. How dare you speak in the presence of your betters?" The tall Daoine further erupted in genuine rage. "I swear to you, human, I will gather my house and descend on you and yours and destroy them root and branch. I will curse you and yours and salt the grounds of Keeper House..."

The Other surged to join him--

Quinn moved--

The dragon whip flared out with a shriek--

First to die were the three guards who were advancing on the Queen with weapons drawn--

Next were the two companions of the elderly Daoine--Quinn neatly intercepted the knives they had thrown at Lady Iris and flipped them back to lodge into their throats.

Then he was behind the old elf.

"Join your son, O' Inalamin," he whispered and slit the old sidhe's throat to the spine.

Then it was over.

The bodies of the slain fell to the floor as one.

Then there was silence.

With trembling hands, the last guard drew his sword.

The young woman's mouth hung open in shock. The others less so.

Uonaidh placidly took a sip of her tea. She raised a languid finger toward Lady Iris.

"You guard, pull yourself together," Iris said sharply. She pointed to the corpse. "Summon your captain and remove this filth."

Quinn's mind was working furiously. This kind of chaos in court was unheard of. He nodded to the Queen in a mix of respect and resentment. She'd probably received his request for an audience and set up a situation where she could use him as an outside force to remove the head of a House planning some sort of coup. The guards and the two assassins that had accompanied the old elf had been after the Queen, not him. For the second time in a matter of months, he solved a pressing problem for her without her having to dirty her hands.

Quinn smiled an inward smile of admiration. He was reminded again of the hubris of thinking he could stay ahead of a being who had hosted tea parties that lasted longer than he'd been alive. He had no hope of matching wits with her; all he could do was to be true to himself and move forward.

"You cut it fine, child," Vuza the Warrior signed.

He sighed.

Here it comes. The post-combat critique.

"I had to wait for the stupid guards to make up their minds. You'd think that they would hire beings quicker on their feet. An atta-boy would not be out of line."

"Atta-boy," Zeba giggled. "I especially liked your tactics. The way you barely stayed on your feet when we summoned you. And the stupid look of surprise on your face was such a clever way to disarm them."

"Enough," Malak the Seer sang. "You have done well here today. There is much more going on than appears. The Goddess' manna surge is causing a cycle of unrest in this realm. You might have defused the worst of it. Your task, however, is elsewhere. You failed to end the daemon. That failure will have tragic consequences amid all the manna chaos. Now you must find it, root it out, and destroy it."

Quinn barely kept his features still as shock roared through him. The Other roused again. What had started out as a relatively simple mission had now grown out of control. Quinn had no doubt the Seer's words were truth. He had been incredibly lucky to surprise the daemon before. Now it would await him, forewarned.