Madoc said as he continued in rapt contemplation of the delicate Japanese painting of cranes in a snowy landscape. They were in the Freer and Sackler Galleries at the Smithsonian Institution. Despite Madoc’s mild, almost plaintive tone, Rhiana took a step back and to the side so she was standing partly behind Jack. Neither of them dared to answer. “I thought you were getting the sword and neutralizing the paladin. Not letting the paladin nearly reach the President. So, when do we get the sword?” Madoc asked. “Why does it matter so much?” Jack asked. “You’ve told us the sword alone can’t close a gate. So what if Oort gets to the President, or the Joint Chiefs, or the Chamber of Commerce for that matter. They throw more troopies at you, you kill them or make them nuts, and hey, it’s all-you-can-eat night.” “Because, you fool, we have a paladin. If we also have the sword we can kill competitors.” Jack flinched. “Now go, and get this done.” Madoc sat down on a bench and stared at the paintings again.
