* * * * * Trilgeriel the healer stood just inside the door, bag in hand. With him were Mirry and Fledge. Oh, his cousin was back. Good. The little Grounded was very pale, her eyes wide. “Veryl?” she said. “What‟s Veryl got to do with it?” Mirry laid a hand on her shoulder. “Now, chick—” Fascinated, Dax saw her glance from Mirry to Jan and back again. Mirry flushed, but Jan raised a brow, his face impassive. Fledge‟s soft brown eyes narrowed. “Don‟t „now, chick‟ me.” She set her hands on her curvy hips. “You look as guilty as hell, both of you. I thought Veryl was long gone.” “He was,” said Dax helpfully. He felt strange and a little faraway, his head buzzing as if he were inside a glass bell and someone was hitting it with a tiny hammer, over and over. “They, ah, sent him to Mother‟s Hearth as a pleasure slave. We think taking the kids is his revenge.” “Listen, Fledge, he deserved everything he got for the way he treated you.” Casually, Mirry drifted across the room toward Jan.
