Concentrate.

And remember.

Stephan.

The curl of his blond hair over his forehead. His blue eyes, staring at me. The boyish smile, and the cynical frown. All of the things that made him him. All of his essence. I pulled it in around me, summoning it.

Summoning him.

**What do you want, Adrienne?**

The contact came more slowly this time, the Pattern drawing our minds together, and the headache had only just begun when I heard his voice in my mind. I knew it was him, and felt his instant of recognition before he spoke.

**We didn't finish our conversation before you left... abruptly...** I barely formed the thoughts before he caught them. **There are other things I ...** I trapped the thought before it left, trying to fix the wording. **I wanted to know.**

That I needed to know... but I hid that thought, stifling it before it could escape into Stephan's mind.

**So because of your power, I am forced to give you answers.** The thought was simple and matter of fact, without any emotion behind it. **Very well, what is it you wish me to answer?**

I had a sudden vivid memory of sitting upon that huge bed in the Tir-dream, when he had turned from me and gone from playfulness to business in mere seconds. And his assumption hurt me. I had never intended to force him. I had only wanted... I wanted to understand. What was happening to me. To us.

I withdrew a little, unable to go very far as mind touched mind. **I don't intend to force you to answer,** I thought quietly. **This is the only way I know to reach you. If we met again, could you speak without running away? I am as... confused... by this as you are.**

**I... don't know.** His thoughts were clear and simple, honest, as they touched mine. **The... this is... not like me. You... I fear you. And what you d... could do to me.**

He paused then, his thoughts passing too quickly to be gathered into coherent words, or even seen. I felt a sharp pain behind my eyes, creeping through my brain, stabbing into my mind. I caught the mental cry of anguish, stifling it.

I realized he was still speaking to me, having gathered his words again.

**I have your card. I will call you.**

I couldn't summon the words to speak to him, to form coherent thoughts. I just struggled with the pain, and tried to hold the connection. I felt a fleeting sense of panic from Stephan. **Adri, love, are you there? Are you well?**

I don't think he knew what he said, what he had called me. I could feel his fear as intensely as my pain, and then it somehow seemed to replace it. The tendrils of pain slipping away into his thoughts and fears. Feeling myself too close to his mind.

I was confused and scared, feeling him so close to me, feeling his thoughts mixed with mine. What he had called me... my body reacted to it, a warmth rising to my cheeks, and a soft shivering in the pit of my stomach. **I... I'm fine,** I finally formed the words. My words. **You... this... I...**

I had to stop, had to order my thoughts and separate my own emotions. It was difficult, feeling him so close. A part of me wanted that... wanted to react to his soothing presence. **Use my card... call me... I can't hold this up...*

**Then let me go.** Stephan responded simply.

I let my concentration go. Let his mind slip from my mine with a feeling of relief. And a sense of loss.

I was surprised to realize that the headache was still gone. No sharp pain, no throbbing. Nothing. With a smile, I moved to get off the bed, to stand up.

And stopped as I did so. There was no sound. No rasp of cloth on cloth as my leg slid across the bed. Not even my own breathing.

Everything was silent.

I felt my heart skip, felt that warmth of panic spreading through me. I wanted to scream but was afraid it would work, and afraid it wouldn't. In a panic I rolled onto my side, reaching out to the wooden table, and slapping it hard. Pain spread through the palm of my hand, but still no sound.

I made my hand into a fist and brought it down hard onto the table, the pain ricocheting up my arm. Still nothing except the false sound of my heart pounding, the blood rushing through my body and fooling my ears.

I felt the Trump contact then. I was expecting to Stephan and reached out for it, needing him suddenly. I couldn't damp the panic down, and I knew he could read it from my expression, my eyes wide and more than a little frightened.

The crossbow appeared, pulled from below his image and brought up into view, although it did not point at me. **Who is there? Who's scaring you? Tell me!** he demanded, still using a mental voice. His eyes scanned the room behind me, seeking a target. **Do you want to come to me?**

I shook my head, not wanting to leave Amber, but then nodded even as I reached for him instinctively. I stumbled to find my mental voice again. **No one is here,** I stammered, wanting to reassure him. **But I can't *hear* anything... nothing...** I tried to be calm, but it was more of a mental cry than anything else, and I could feel the terror and confusion welling up inside of me. **Please...**

I don't know what I was asking him for. A solution? For him to come there or me to go to him? Or perhaps just for comfort?

The hand that held his crossbow reached for me, awkward but less so as I reached for him and tumbled forward into his arms. The crossbow must have fallen, because his arms were both around me, gripping me, as if he would never let me go.

I never heard the bow fall. Never heard it hit the floor. Everything was still silent around me.

I hardly had time to think about it. Stephan was so close to me, still holding me. He made coherent thought impossible as he pushed me back away slightly, his mouth seeking mine. The kiss was wild with the memory of panic, the fear of loss. And I returned it with an unexpected passion of my own, seeking him, swaying closer to him.

Then his lips softened over mine, his grip on my arms relaxing. He didn't let me step away, my body still close to his, still held within the comforting circle of his arms. Light kisses still tickled my lips as he rested his forehead against mine, and his breathing slowed.

He looked at me then, looking deeply into my eyes, and I knew confusion was there in my expression as I stared back at him.

"Welcome to my world."

I heard him, and I was even more confused then. I heard nothing else, nothing of the normal everyday noises I should have heard. But I heard his voice, clearly and easily. And that calmed me.

"I can hear you," I whispered.

"And I you. Isn't that a wondrous thing?" He whispered back to me, smiling at me. I just nodded, unable to find the words to say any more.

His hands cupped my face, his thumbs stroking along my cheeks, his fingers delving into my hair. "...do you know what you do to me, how you upset my balance?" he whispered against my lips as he continued with fleeting kisses, skimming my lips with his as if he couldn't get enough of the taste of me.

"I'm so confused," I whispered back. My hand moved slowly, almost of its own accord, to touch his face lightly. I knew he could read me easily, my expression honest in my confusion. "You... I... what's going on?"

He was still kissing me, feathering light touches over my lips. I didn't want him to stop, but, "I can't think while you are doing that?"

"Kiss me, Adrienne." His voice, his expression, begged me. He was so carefully still, just a whisper's breadth away from me. "Just once, and then I'll stop. We'll talk. I promise. I just want... just once... for *you* to kiss *me*..."

"I don't even know you." My reaction was soft and honest as I stared at him. My hand stilled against his cheek, my other hand coming up to join it, until his face was cupped in my hands. I was so close to him that my breath slipped over his lips, and I could see his reaction to me. Waiting, patiently... hopefully.

My voice was only a whisper. "But..."

I closed my eyes, swaying, wanting suddenly to be closer to him. My hands anchored me, and I knew where his lips were, could feel them as easily as I could have seen them were my eyes opened. My head tilted slightly, angling myself as my lips slid over his. And then my eyes opened again, watching him, searching for something in his face.

His blue eyes had darkened as he watched me, hope still in his eyes. But as my eyes opened, his slid shut, a soft sigh escaping his lips. The kiss was gentle and hesitant, and I was still scared of him. For a brief moment, I felt lost, and as I realized that I was unconsciously deepening the kiss confusion and fear overwhelmed me. I stiffened in his arms, and pulled back slightly, afraid of him. Of me. Of us.

When I pulled back, so did he, ever so slowly though. I was able to see his room for the first time, large and open, with no walls separating the different areas from each other. The walls were stone, with large glass windows on every side, with bright sunlight streaming in. We stood in what had to be a work area, with a drafting table and a stool. I could see a living area next, with comfortable couches and chairs near a wood stove fireplace. And then beyond that was a small practice area, with mats and mirrors and all different sorts of weapons nearby. I saw the kitchen and what looked to be a washroom behind the only real division in the room - a tall wooden folding panel, painted with scenes and characters I didn’t recognize.

I realized that I was cataloguing the place, remembering everything as if I were going to need to know it. To know just where everything was. As if I would be staying there for a long time. As I realized that, I tried to skim over it, but kept catching myself lingering, wanting to know more.

Straight ahead of me was what must be his bedroom. A bed there, low to the floor with rumpled sheets thrown carelessly back. It somehow left an inviting impression, like it was waiting for someone to dive right back in and get comfortable. I flushed at the thought, and quickly looked away. When he spoke to me, I felt my chin go up a notch, defensive against my own thoughts.

"Again, welcome to my world." His voice began with an intimate whisper, but he increased the volume as he spoke until he was talking more normally to me. He cleared his throat then, before continuing. "You're the only one I've ever brought here."

He sat on the stool, rolling it away a few inches, his hand finally leaving mine. I felt the lack, and felt both bereft and somehow freed again. As if I could move and think on my own. "I... I don't get along well with other people." He shrugged, and watched me, waiting for me to say something.

"Why?" My voice caught in my throat, emerging as barely a whisper itself. I turned away, coughing and covering my mouth, moving a few steps away and regaining my composure. When I turned back to face him, I clasped my hands behind my back, where they couldn't do anything... like reach out to him without my wishing it. I was careful when I spoke again, my voice normal this time. "What you said earlier... did you mean that you cannot hear anything but me?"

I was curious about him. More curious than I truly had a right to be. Or was I? He was... he felt different to me. It wasn't just Tir... but the way when my mind touched him I wanted more. Wanted to feel him there, holding me. Touching me. My chin went up another tiny notch again.

He closed his eyes, his own defense mechanism, and I could see him centering himself. Removing himself. When he opened them once more, clear blue eyes gazing at me, he had regained some of his equilibrium.

"I'm deaf." He spread his hands, almost shrugging. It was harder to read him now, pulling back away from me. It made it easier for me to do the same, closing him out, and returning to myself somehow. Put the confusion away to look at later, when I was ready to deal with it. I looked around for a chair while he continued.

"I've been this way for a long time," he explained. "I can hear in my dreams. Nightmares, mostly, to be truthful. Until that... experience in Tir."

My gaze fell on the bed just then, as a place to sit, and I suddenly warmed, remembering Tir. Remembering my side of what he referred to. I quickly discarded that idea, and began to pace, uncertain where I could go, and unwilling to just stand still. There was nothing nearby... except that stool that he sat on.

He stood up for a moment, then sat down again abruptly, picked up a pencil, and started to doodle on a piece of paper that lay on the drafting table. His gaze was absorbed by it. "I've been able to hear you ever since. And myself, when I'm with you. It's..." he paused, and the pencil changed direction, echoing his the shifting of his thoughts. "...Strange." I knew that wasn't what he had meant to say. I wondered what was.

He froze then, the pencil stilling in its path as he turned to look at me intently. "How is it... why can't you hear anything? Did I do something to you?" The sudden shift in intensity surprised me, as fear crept around the corner of his eyes. Fear for me, that he might have done this to me. The rest of his face retained its control, but in his hands the pencil snapped in two. He seemed unaware of it, even as I jumped at the sound.

His gaze pinned me, and I couldn't understand the feelings that brought up inside of me. I struggled with them, trying to force them back, to stuff them deeply back inside of myself so that I could think. My hands clenched at my sides as I quickly shook my head.

"I don't know," I said softly, unable to speak any louder than that. "I..." I paused, looking around again for someplace to sit. Still nothing nearby. Still my attention caught by that damned bed. Swearing silently to myself, I walked away, my arms crossed across my chest.

"It's probably my fault," I muttered. "I expected to have a huge headache. The last time I contacted you that way my head ached for hours. I was all set for it... tea on my nightstand and everything. Then we were talking, and I got so confused." I turned to look back at him, startled by his direct gaze, and I couldn't look away again.

"I act without thinking sometimes," I admitted in a whisper. I felt like a child, confessing to her greatest fault. Perhaps I was. "Something in me... wanted... to be closer. I could feel your mind and mind and..." I swallowed. It was so hard to talk. So hard to explain. "I wanted to be closer, and I wanted to get away at the same time. When I broke the contact, everything was silent." There was a heartbeat before I whispered, "Except you."

I finally managed to look away again, staring off to the side, finding a spot on the wall. I had so many questions still, so many things I needed to ask. But I didn't want to frighten him away again. With a little bit of a nervous laugh, I forced my voice louder, lighter. "It' s like being in Tir-na Nog'th. Like we're the ghosts. Like it owns us."

A vivid memory sweeping over me, brief but intense. The feeling that I belonged to Tir.

"I hadn't thought of that." He blinked, glancing down, and suddenly seemed to notice the broken pencil still in his hands. He set the pieces of it down very carefully on the table, then stood again. With careful deliberation he stepped around me and headed towards the kitchen.

"I'll make some tea," he called back. "Have a seat." He gestured towards the couches in the living room area, his body relaxing, gait growing more fluid as he moved farther from me. If I thought hard about it, I might be insulted. Except the further he was from me, the easier it was for me to relax as well.

My gaze followed his motion towards the chairs, and the moment my eyes left him, it was as if he were no longer there. I couldn't hear a single noise from the kitchen -- none of the normal sounds of preparations. I walked towards the chairs, almost smiling to myself. Permission to sit in the chairs. It was as if he had read my mind, known that I wanted someplace else to go, someplace to sit. Then I shook my head, a faint shiver sliding down my backbone. Read my mind? Don't go there. I didn't want to know just how badly I'd screwed up this time. Just how close we had become. I was scared enough by how much he terrified me, and how I wanted to run to him for comfort at the same time. Instinct. It just didn't make any sense.

And I was starting to sound like a damned broken record.

Even with his permission, I couldn't sit down just yet, so I moved around, looking at his flat, and looking carefully at the things that were Stephan. So much is said by what a person keeps near to them. I clasped my hands in front of me, as much holding them from touching things as giving me something to hold onto.

There wasn't really a lot to look at. The place was functional, the sort of place a person could leave at any time and not worry much about what was left behind. I saw a few things of a personal nature, but I could have fit them all in one backpack and been gone in a moment if I wanted to. But the personal things drew me to them, and I looked them over carefully.

I reached out to gently touch the smooth glass surface of a figurine of a weeping woman. I was curious, but my attention slid away from that to a nearby small portrait of a woman and child in a well-worn frame that looked to be hand carved. And on top of the cold wood stove a small automaton of some fantastical creature that I didn't recognize waited to be wound up. A ghost of a smile for a moment as I considered it, then decided it really wouldn't be for the best. Bad enough that I was poking around. Don't touch a thing.

The portrait drew my attention back, and I moved to stare at it, wondering if it were Stephan and his mother. It was hard to tell. It was flat, not painted in oil or watercolor, but something I didn't recognize. The tones were all sepia, and the whole thing was slightly fuzzy. I couldn't tell for certain if the hair color or eyes matched because of the strange coloration.

The boy was young, maybe 10 summers at the most, and the woman didn't look to be much more than double his age. She was darker haired, and her eyes held sadness even though she was smiling at whoever had done the portrait. Both were, in fact, but both looked sorrowed.

I stared at it longer than I should have, almost memorizing it. I was far too curious about what he was like, and if that were him... I wondered what things I didn't know about him yet.

I finally moved, walking away from the portrait before I was lost there. Walked around, still looking at things. And I was startled when I heard him clear his throat behind me. Unused to the silence, the sudden noise was unexpected. I turned, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks at being caught snooping.

Stephan handed me a steaming mug of tea, dark and with a bitter scent. And he set a small tray down upon the floor with sugar cubes, cream, and a spoon.

As I stared at the tray, a sudden flash of memory assailed my senses. There was supposed to be a table there... and I would spill my tea when he surprised me with a kiss. I remembered it vividly, the feel of the wood beneath my hand in that dream of Tir-na Nog'th. The mug shook in my hands and I took an involuntary step backwards. I felt a chair behind my knees and I sat down quickly, ankles crossed, the mug cradled in both hands. And I stared at it, watching the liquid swirl slightly, before I tasted the faint bitter taste of it.

Stephan was still relaxed, returning now with his own mug and sitting on the edge of the chair opposite me, sipping his tea carefully.

"I don't know a lot about mind-to-mind contacts," he began, "but isn't it possible that when you ... wanted to get closer to me, you somehow got too close? Mentally, I mean. This... your deafness... might fade in time. I hope it does, Adri." His eyes were clear and honest. "I wouldn't want anyone to suffer silence..."

He stopped himself, suddenly, catching whatever words he was going to say before they slipped out. After a moment's consideration, he started again. "...because of me. And you can hear me, and I you. Maybe it's Tir, and maybe, just maybe, it's these." He held up his left hand, and I could see the ring there on his finger. A bit heavier than mine, made for a man instead of a woman, but still the same. Silver with the swirling mists of Tir-na Nog'th. He wasn't looking at, nor at me anymore. He couldn't seem to decide quite where to look, and his gaze shifted between his drink, the floor, the walls.

I reached forward without thinking about, my hand closing over his, my thumb rubbing against the ring. I felt his hand jerk slightly, but he didn't pull away. His gaze shifted again, not to my eyes but to our joined hands, where my thumb continued to lazily stroke over the ring.

"I kept taking it off," I said slowly, coughing a bit as my voice came out huskier than I had intended. I was careful to keep it normal as I continued. "But I couldn't leave it off." I shrugged, and stared at our hands then, realizing that I should let him go. Let him pull away. I don't know why I didn't, but I knew that if he did try to move, I'd let him go.

But he was still, simply nodding as he sipped at his tea, and continued to watch my hand on his.

"The rings go back to the Tir idea," I point out. "Watch."

I closed my eyes and searched for the familiar feel of Tir's silvery Pattern, holding that concentration on the power, then opened my eyes expecting to see the rings swirling, both his and mine this time.

And they did, like clouds of mist moving about in a breeze. Stephan watched my ring for a moment, then shifted his focus to his own ring. "How did you do that?" It was a question, not a demand, and there was no fear. Only curiosity and wonder, and perhaps a small bit of apprehension.

"Tir's Pattern," I said softly. I was going to explain, but then I began to feel him. Began to realize that just bringing it to mind brought back the contact. Brought us back together. There was no headache this time, but his thoughts swirled around my head like the mists in the ring.

"I... can *feel* you." Stephan was surprised and stared straight at me then. I couldn't look away. Couldn't move, couldn't hardly breathe. His gaze trapped me, and it seemed almost as if he felt the same as we sat there, his hand still in mine, ours minds touching as our eyes locked.

"Oh gods..." The words slipped out before I caught them. I just stared at him, a part of me terrified and a part of me fascinated. I couldn't do more than whisper, choked, "It's the Pattern... Tir's... do you want me to make it go away?"

I don't know why I asked him that. Don't know why I didn't just forget all about it... let the concentration slip away.

He hesitated. "I... don't know." He was honest, his curiosity mixing with my own, amplifying it. I wanted to know all about him, and he wanted to let me in. I could feel him, wanting me, and me wanting him. It overwhelmed me. Us.

I couldn't tell where I ended... where he began. I responded to him, felt myself respond... but something... something wasn't right.

"No!"

I don't know which of us shouted, but there was a sudden pain, a tearing, and the sound of something shattering.

I raised my head slowly, looking across the room. I was lying on the floor of his apartment, staring at him, as he stared at me. The connection between us was gone, and it was only eyes staring at eyes again. Nothing else.

"What... what did you do?" he panted, his eyes sweeping down my body. My gaze automatically followed his. Down my body. Down... *his* body.

I had shifted into his form, was lying upon his floor staring at him. As him. And the thought that came to me wasn't mine. It was his. **Where is Adrienne?**

Adrienne.

Suddenly I could feel myself again, my own personality inside of me, trying to push his aside. But it was so hard... I had trouble again, trying to sort us out. Which one was I? I was Adrienne... wasn't I?

I remembered Sebastian's cautions with a sudden clarity. Not to let myself get to close... to become the person whose form I had taken. But also that it was the best way to shift. I tried to remember who I was... tried to believe that I was Adrienne again, no matter how much my mind screamed that I was Stephan. Adrienne's body, Adrienne's shape.

It happened... slowly.

I realized that he was still looking at me, still waiting for an answer. I found her words to speak with. "Made a mistake. Acted without thinking. Like always."

It was odd. Speaking. I had shifted into his form before, but not so much. Not so carefully, so close to reality. His voice resonated within my... his... chest. Deep and throaty, it tickled my throat with its oddness to me.

I shook off the distraction and returned to my thoughts. My words. Feeling sorry for myself -- always a good way to bring Adrienne right up to the forefront of my mind. But it was true... I knew better and I hadn't thought about the consequences. For a moment it felt like I was berating myself, and I thought I was sitting there watching the voices in my head trying to figure out who would win the fight.

**Adrienne,** I muttered internally. **I am Adrienne.**

And it worked, sort of. The more I thought about Adrienne, the more I forced myself to think as her, the more real she became to me. The more myself I became. I could find my own thoughts and not confuse them with those thoughts of his that lingered in my mind.

I fought to smile at him. Wondered whose smile it was. "I'm a shapeshifter, Stephan. When I... I think... when I got so close, when I felt you so closely, I became you." The explanation sounded lame to my ears. And I held myself, not flinching as I worried about his reaction.

His breathing slowed, and he seemed to take control of himself again. "Oh." His voice was small as he picked himself up off the floor and sat in the chair again. I slowly stood, stretching my arms and legs.

He looked over at me. "I don't think we should do that again. And can you stop that? It's... bizarre."

"Stop what?" I looked at him, immediately concerned. One hand was up and was moving towards him before I thought. But then I did think, and I stopped. Damn. I knew what he meant. He's not used to shapeshifters and I look just like him. I needed to fix it, if I could.

Still... something was wrong. The tone of his voice, the words. Not quite right. It was his voice, but there was something familiar about what he said.

"Oh gods." He put his hand on his forehead and pulled his legs up underneath him. "I can still feel you... here."

I sit like that. Just like that. My words, my body language. In Stephan. Oh, this wasn't good.

My instinct, somehow, was to go comfort him. But I wasn't sure whether that was me wanting to comfort him, or him talking about the me he sounds like. It was like we were both us. And that couldn't possibly be a good thing.

I dragged my attention back to him, wondering vaguely if I've been just standing there, doing nothing while my mind wandered, or if he (me?) was doing something I wasn't aware of. **Don't be ridiculous,** I told myself curtly. **It's still just the one body. At least this one is. His is... oh hells.**

"We've got a real problem." I spoke slowly, still working on my words. "And I'm not so sure I can stop this. It's probably a good thing you aren't a shifter. If you were, you'd probably be me. You certainly sound like me at the moment." I smiled ruefully. "I think I well and truly screwed up this time."

His blue eyes widened in shock, then closed. "How can I..." He paused, then said carefully, "What do we need to do to reverse this?"

I shook my head, unable to answer for certain. Because I didn't *know* for certain. Not for him. But I knew what might work for me.

I sat back down on the chair, almost being too careful with this body. The unfamiliar feel of his voice still threw me every time I spoke. "I'm just..." I began, then shook my head. "I need to be quiet a moment. See if I can be me again. I need to get you out of my head." I felt a momentary panic at that, at the confusion of feeling him so close to me. A part of me. "If I can," I muttered. There was a part of me that didn't want to let it go. But we couldn't be one person. I'd seen what that had done to Jerrym, and it just wasn't a good idea.

"But you don't want to," he responded, his hand reaching towards mine. He seemed to see it, stilling it, and putting his hands behind his back as he bit his lip. And all too familiar motion, if he were me. "No, that's not me," he said softly.

I almost smiled, then realized I could feel a familiar hear on my cheeks. It just didn't feel right in that form -- my blush, his face. I had to get back to being me.

The thought rattled me, and with a sudden realization of all the places my mind had just gone, I lost my concentration. **Please oh please whatever gods there are, don't let this be happening when I think. When I feel.** A sudden flash of Jerrym's serious face, superimposed with Stephan looking at me with my own confusion. I couldn't stand to have that little mixup in my head come up just than. Although a part of me reached out and touched the thought, poking it, and realized that it wasn't half as painful as it had been. Muted. Maybe I'd finally gotten that under control.

I closed my eyes for a moment, against seeing him, and concentrated solely upon me. On my body, the feel of it, the sound of my voice. On being Adrienne.

When I opened my eyes again Stephan was walking slowly over to the mats and mirrors in his salle. He began to do exercises, unarmed, a specific series of motions. Kata, Samuel had called it when taught me. But these movements were Stephan's, not mine. Not anything I knew. He was centering himself.

I let my eyes close again, doing the same thing. Breath by breath, memory by memory, I rebuilt myself. Recalled all that I was, all that I am, and concentrated upon it until Stephan was just another memory. Not me.

It wasn't a quick process. And the headache came with it, with the return of myself. It built slowly, like the sound of a gong heard at a distance and slowly approaching until my entire body and soul reverberated with the pain.

When I opened my eyes, I was me again. All me, body, mind, and soul. And I felt the raging hunger of a strong shift, as if I had used up all my resources. Coupled with the pounding of my headache, I felt ill.

Stephan still moved through the motions of his kata. Somewhere, when my eyes were closed, he had removed his shirt, and was now clad only in loose trousers. His feet were bare, and his entire body glistened with sweat. Blonde hair had turned dark with the moisture, plastered to his head. One turn after another, arm movements, leg motions, fluid and graceful. For a fleeting moment, he reminded me of Samuel. He was that good... that smooth in his movements. That natural. But he was no Samuel. I felt a slight smile touch my lips. His charm was altogether different.

The silence was surreal, but I was almost used to it now. I still couldn't hear it move, even after so carefully, consciously shifting back into myself. The deafness must be a part of me now. Or a part of how I thought of myself.

I forced myself to speak, the gnawing hunger and pain adding nausea to my complaints. "I need something to drink, and to eat." My voice was shaking from the pain. I stood up, clenching my fist for a moment as the movement hurt even more. Made my head pound. "I need my tea," I whispered softly, holding one hand against my aching forehead. "And a cold cloth."

I wanted to watch him, but I closed my eyes against the light. I hoped it would help.

His movements still continued, and even thought I couldn't hear him, I could feel him somehow, sense his movements. It was too eerie, and I had to open my eyes and watch. Ignore the pounding of my head. And then finally, he stopped, bowed, and picked up a towel.

"Rest." He turned and walked towards me, using the towel to rub the sweat from his forehead. From his body. I watched the motion of his hand realizing that yes, he was himself again. Those were his movements, not mine. "Lie on the couch," he directed me. "No wait, let me."

He caught me by surprised, picking me up easily as if I were a feather in his arms, and walked me over to the bed. He placed me there carefully, in his bed, and then pulled the blankets up over me to keep me warm. I realized then that I was shaking uncontrollably, and it wasn't him this time. Wasn't how close he was to me. Wasn't being there, in his bed. Shock. Not good. I didn't feel well enough any more to concentrate on fixing it... fixing me again. I just curled up there and shivered under the blankets, trying to regain control.

"I'll get you something to drink and eat." He moved a folded panel out, and cast the bed in shadow. However long we'd both been working on becoming ourselves again, the sunlight was still bright outside. "Close your eyes, concentrated on your breathing." He stopped his instructions and swore slightly under his breath. "You probably know how to do this better than I do," he muttered, moving off to prepare food for me.

I would have smiled at his words, but it hurt too much.

He was remote again, I realized. His speech, his movements. He had found his own center again, and even when he touched me to pick me up there had been no connection. Nothing more than the simple of touching of flesh on flesh, which was almost enough. I could tell just from the flickering of response in my body that the awareness of him was still there. But nothing further.

I curled into myself, shivering beneath the warmth of the blankets, holding onto my legs as I curled tightly. And slowly I drifted off to sleep. I could hear Stephan... not his movements, but a haunting tune he was humming as he did whatever he did. I didn't recognize it, but its haunting sadness carried me into a dreamless sleep.

I awoke to the smell of beef roasting, and the hunger was back and raging inside of me. I was weak from hunger and thirst, but the shaking was gone, and the headache was almost manageable.

There was a brief panic as I looked to the kitchen and saw Stephan moving there, preparing a large meal. And I still couldn't hear a thing. But oh... I could smell it, and it smelled wonderful. I glanced down, and realized that a hot mug of a sweet-smelling tea sat on the floor by the bed, as well as a plate with a loaf of warm bread and a hunk of cheese.

My stomach rumbles, and I roll over, reaching down to grab the tea with one hand, the bread and cheese in the other. I was hungry enough to eat all of it, and still want more. I propped myself up in the bed, somehow comforted by the blanket over my legs. Then I began to eat, hunger taking precedence over everything.

Except, perhaps, watching Stephan.

He hadn't noticed I was awake. He moved easily about the small kitchen, putting herbs onto the roast in the oven, cutting vegetables. Making all kinds of different things, all of which made my mouth water as I devoured the bread and cheese.

And I watched him avidly, drinking in the sight of him, enjoying this moment where he didn't realize Iwas awake and observing him. Some part of me had settled... not exactly comfortable with the odd impact he had already had on my life, but perhaps accepting of it. And I wanted to know him. I knew that touching him again... like *that*... wasn't in our best interests. I was going to have to do it the old fashioned way.

But for the moment, with him unaware of me, I was content, simply to watch.

He was humming, that same tune that I had heard the led me into the dreamlands. And I watched him work for a long time, readying a meal that seemed enough for an army, while I polished off the bread and cheese and then sipped at the tea. And finally he turned, and saw me. There was no flicker of surprise, but I knew that he hadn't realized I was watching him until that moment. I almost smiled.

He walked over to me. "Feeling better?"

"I'm still hungry, and I still hurt, but yes," I said slowly.

He smiled slightly. "When you said you were hungry, I thought you meant more than just..." he gestured at the plate on my lap, where there weren't even crumbs left.

I felt the flush rising. "It takes a lot out of me." And I knew I had been doing too much lately... taxing my body far more than I should. I should stop, and rest. Relax. But I didn't know when I would be able to.

Stephan simply gestured towards the kitchen area, where one stool stood on either side of a part of the countertop. He brought the stool from his drafting table for himself, as I slowly stood. I winced, the pain from the headache still making movement of any kind difficult. And then I walked, carefully deliberate, determined not to show any signs of the bone deep weakness I felt. Once I made it there, I held onto the countertop, lowering myself onto the stool, and was relieved to be sitting again. I'm not sure I could have made it much further than I did.

Once I was settled, he began to bring the food over. Salad, fruit, bread... the wonderful roast I saw him cooking. More things than I could really catalog, and more than I wanted to at the time. Hunger rolled over me, and I managed to say, "Thank you," before I began to eat. All I wanted to do was be able to sit up straight without making a fool of myself.

I didn't waste any time as I ate. It restored some of my strength, and as I finished, he kept bringing out more. He was good at it... always ensuring that I had enough food. He was quiet, not interrupting me with conversation.

When I finally reached the point where I was almost sated, I sat back a little and took stock. The headache was still there, but it was possible to handle it. I wanted my teas, wanted the healing that came with them. But that just wasn't possible right then. I managed a smile at Stephan, saying softly, "I'm doing better now."

"Good. I know that when I've been ill, it usually takes a good meal to make me feel better," he explained. "I thought that you might need the same. Especially with the... shapeshifting."

"It tends to take a *lot* out of me," I had to agree. "And I've had a lot of large expenditures of energy lately." I smiled ruefully. "I'm sorry about what happened."

"I know," he reassured me. "We both should be sorry."

"I didn't think it would be quite..." I started to try to defend my theory, but he interrupted me.

"We weren't as cautious as we could have been, Adrienne," he said firmly. I flushed at the reprimand. "Neither one of us," he allowed.

"I very rarely am," I had to admit.

"Well now, perhaps that you've had your fingers burned a bit..."

"I'll suddenly start thinking before I do everything?" I speculated.

"I don't think that's going to happen." He smiled slightly.

"I *thought* I had thought about it." I was still defending myself. But it was true... "I had done that particular thing with the rings many times. I was just going to show you."

"But you'd never done it..."

"...touching you and your ring. No."

"And we'd already shared..."

"...because of the way I had used the Pattern before. Yes." I was finishing his sentences, his thoughts, and it seemed completely natural.

He considered me seriously for a moment. "Whatever it is that you've been doing..."

"...has only served to get us closer," I said softly.

Stephan nodded. "In more ways than one."

"Yeah." I was staring at my plate, at my fork as I toyed with the bits of food left on my plate. I was replete, and was left only with a few shreds of beef to play with, to stare at instead of him.

"And now that we have had a chance to step back from each other," he paused a moment, and when I didn't speak, he continued, "we can continue..."

"...getting to know each other?" I offered.

He shook his head. "I had been going to say we could continue as normal people do. But I am not certain I know how normal people act."

I looked away. How normal people acted? I wasn't sure I knew that either. I hadn't been normal since I was sixteen and first came to Amber. Life changed an awful lot then.

"Getting to know each other is a good idea," Stephan interrupted my thoughts, and I brought my gaze back to him. He sat there, his expression remote again. Withdrawn from me. I both preferred it and missed the closeness somehow. "You first contacted me because you had some questions."

"Yeah. I was trying to figure out how to get around to it without jumping straight in, but I haven't come up with a good segue yet. So I guess I'm stuck with jumping straight in." I started to babble then... figures, doesn't it? Here I was, with another man who seemed important to me. And I could not manage to keep my thoughts in order long enough to make sense.

But he didn't seem to mind, and almost came to my rescue. "Well, I've provided you with a nice segue."

"Yeah, you did." I had to smile. Of course, it didn't really make it any easier. "Have you walked the Pattern?"

"Yes." He sat back, seemingly ready to answer my questions.

"Rebma's?" I don't know why I asked that first... perhaps because that is where he had been when I first met him face to face. But he shook his head. "Tir's?" I amended, knowing that that had to be the one. And I was right. It figured.

"Do you feel this whatever it is that's happening?" I shifted the subject abruptly, my hand indicating something in the air. Although it wasn't entirely a shift, it had to do with the Pattern after all.

"Define whatever it is," he said simply. His tone was all business, a little curt, and without emotion.

"This impending sense of doom that would probably be really annoying me right now if my head weren't pounding." I tried to lighten the atmosphere. It didn't work.

"I've felt something," he admitted. "Not for very long."

"Was that what you were talking about when you said it's too close?" I'd been wondering that since he said it.

"No." One word, flat and done.

"What did you mean?" I asked softly.

The silence stretched out between us, and my clarification, "Other than me," was spoken just as he looked at me and said, "You."

A slight pause, and then he added, "Nothing other than you."

"Oh." My voice was small, and I looked away. I picked up my fork, toying with it. I had to think, had to choose a new direction. "Well, I guess that gets that half of the questions out of the way," I murmured. And those were the easy ones. The rest were definitely more difficult. I glanced back up, still playing with my fork as I asked, "Who were you shooting at?"

Again the silence stretched out between us, until I interrupted it with, "I told you I was just going to be blunt." I tried to smile. It didn't help, and the silence stretched even further. Eerie... without him speaking, without the sound of my voice, there was nothing. Not even the sound of my fork as I tapped it on the plate. I could feel the vibrations of it striking the ceramic, but not even a hint of sound.

"Does it matter?"

I sighed. "If I'm going to try to protect you, yes."

I could tell that that phrasing didn't go over well as he glanced at me. "Try to protect me?"

"Let's see," I mused, ticking items off on my fingers. "I've been having strange dreams about you. I think I have a piece of you stuck in my head. And you think I'm going to let Brennan gut you -- are you nuts?"

"You have that much control over him?"

"No," I shook my head. "But I don't exactly like throwing you to the wolves, either."

"There is protecting me, Adrienne," he said firmly, "and then there is protecting me."

I felt my brows draw together, furrowing in confusion. I had no idea what he meant by that.

"When it comes to that, I know what I am doing. You don't need to save me from Brennan. I can take care of myself," he explained. "Now, if you want to keep me safe, fight my battles for me, that's one thing. If you want to keep me safe by keeping me from getting into battles, that's another thing."

"I have *no* intention of fighting your battles for you," I hastily told him. Having watched him, I didn't think I could! "I admit, I'm still curious."

He smiled slightly. "Will you ever not be?"

"Probably not." I had to smile in return. "Its gotten me in trouble already, hasn't it?"

His smile faded, as he finally answered my question. "That's for another time, Adrienne. Let me say I have my reasons."

I watched him for a moment, then let out a soft sigh. "Okay." Shaking my head, I mutter, "Don't think I'm taking you back to Amber any time soon."

He considered me closely. "Why would you want to take me back to Amber, Adrienne? I've walked the Pattern. I can go there if I want. I have Trumps."

It was my turn for silence, for answering a difficult question. Why would I want to take him back? Because I wanted him... because something in those visions, something in *him*, drew me to him. Wanted to spend more time with him. Wanted to give in to the strangely remembered feelings that weren't exactly mine. But I felt ridiculous saying that. I tried to make it make sense.

"Because I think I'll miss you when I have to leave. And because I can't exactly stay away from there."

"Why?"

I had to admit, his question made sense. Why? I took a deep breath, "Some weird vague sense of responsibility. Especially if something is blowing up."

"And that is what you think this feeling is?" He gestured at his head, and I nodded.

"It feels like something is going to happen," I tried to explain. "And the only people who've noticed it are people who've taken the Pattern. Some people noticed it earlier than others, and some people are going a little on the psycho side over it."

"Why?" He asked me again, his gaze pinning me. "Why do you feel the need to protect Amber? Doesn't she have enough defenders?"

It was Oberon's interview all over again. Only this time *I* was trying to explain. Trying to put into quantifiable terms what Amber meant to me. Why it was so important. "True defenders? No..."

"What about Oberon?"

His question made sense, and had merit. And despite being royally pissed at him, I had to admit, I believed that Oberon would do what *he* felt were best for Amber. I'm not sure I'd agree with whatever that was, but I did believe he cared for Amber. "Oberon will protect her. Jerrym will." I paused, and cycled through the rest of them in my mind. Benedict? He'd been gone for days... during times when we'd needed him. I shook my head. "I'm done now."

"How about Brennan?"

I was blunt. "I don't always know what his motives are, but I don't trust him either."

"Probably a good idea," Stephan agreed with my viewpoint.

"As much as I happen to *like* Bleys, I don't trust him overly as well," I continued on.

Stephan almost quirked a smile. "I did notice rather a lack of Oberon's children in your list. You don't think any of them would protect Amber?"

"Brand's not capable of it..." I stopped suddenly as I was about to go through them... listing why they wouldn't, or couldn't, protect Amber now. Listing off the defenses to someone I barely knew. "If Jerrym knew I was having this conversation right now, he'd be so pissed at me," I said in a low voice.

"Why?" Stephan seemed merely curious.

I wrestled with telling him. And decided to be honest. "Because there are people who believe you are a part of the problem. And right now I'm listing off Amber's defenses and weaknesses. Not exactly the most intelligent thing, you have to admit."

"You're listing off your impressions, Adrienne," he said with a slight smile. "I don't think Jerrym would list the same things."

"True." I just shook my head, and realized that the fork was still in my hand. I put it down and pushed the plate away from me, reaching instead for a roll and tearing off a bit of bread to pop into my mouth. "Nobody's around. Most of his children are pissed at him, and when his children are pissed at him, they tend to take off. Very few people have dug in their heels and stayed. I don't want to desert her. Its not what I believe." I realized, suddenly, how odd that sounded, given some of my track record. "I run away from a lot of things," I admitted, "but that doesn't happen to be one of them."

After a moment's thought, I added softly, "Of course, I'm not going to be able to *hear* anything when I go back, which will make things interesting."

He looked bothered by that. "That hasn't fixed itself?"

I knocked my hand against the countertop, feeling the vibrations, but not hearing a thing. And I shook my head. "No... and I can't seem to just make myself into an Adrienne that hears. I really think its something else." For a moment, I had a flash of inspiration, and slipped the ring from my finger and set it off to one side. If the rings linked us, perhaps the ring kept my mind close to his. Too close.

But when I rapped upon the countertop, I still heard nothing. Only silence. I picked up the ring and slipped it back on.

Stephan was watching me closely, thoughtfully. "Take that off again."

I repeated the motion, setting the ring off to one side while I watched him. I saw his lips move, forming the words, "Can you hear me?" but I heard nothing but silence. And I shook my head, asking him the same question. Nothing. Not even the sound of my own voice.

I don't quite remember putting the ring back on... I was that uncomfortable, and moved that quickly.

"No," I said simply.

And "No," was his answer as well. So the deafness was one thing, and the rings allowed us some respite. Some relief from the dreadful silence that was everywhere. It caught my mind, wondering about him. How long he had been deaf, how he had come to live this way. How strange it must be for him to hear me now.

"Rhiannon," I said softly. Stephan was confused, and I couldn't easily explain. I started babbling somehow... about the rings, about how I had thought it at first when we first touched minds. But I had to wonder... was this like the ring Jerrym had which would allow someone to speak with Rhiannon?

"Who is Rhiannon?" Stephan tried to ask me the question again.

"A spirit," I tried to put my reasoning into words. "And a ring. That allows the wearer to hear the spirit."

He looked amused, or surprised. "You think I'm a spirit?"

"No..." I had to smile. "I'm just pointing out that it’s a fairly similar concept. Its making me wonder vaguely..." I was thoughtful, remembering my idea about Tir-na Nog'th. Whether this all had to do with Tir, and how this was so like being a ghost. "She can come out in Tir," I said, which didn't really explain anything, but said what I wanted to say. "And I was thinking earlier about how it was like being a Tir ghost. We can't hear anything except each other. But if we were somehow attuned in some way, to Tir-na Nog'th, its possible we could hear things there. That this isn't the real place for us anymore. Which..." I hesitated slightly before adding, "...fits with the visions."

He didn't say anything, and I laughed nervously and added, "Except, of course, for the fact that when it goes away, everyone plunges to their death. But who knows if that is true now?"

Stephan just looked at me, those clear blue eyes holding me with his gaze. "So what are you going to do?"

"At this exact second?" I had to admit, "I don't know yet. I would love to go to Tir, but its been raining all day in Amber. I'd actually like you to be with me next time I go, but that'll require some trust on your part. But since you've already seen me shapeshift, you might be able to trust me to get us down safely if it comes apart underneath us."

He walked back into his work area, to the drawing table, and picked something up. He then came back, handing me a small quartz crystal, careful not to touch my hand as he placed it there. "Break this, if you need me to call you," he instructed me.

I considered it. My only way of reaching him. I didn't dare bring the Pattern to mind again... not to touch his mind. That was too dangerous. "If there is only one of them," I asked hesitantly, "then that would be a pretty dire emergency, hm? Not just that I wanted to talk again."

"I would prefer if you didn't use the same way to contact me that you have in the past." His voice was dry and disapproving, his tone firm.

"I... don't think I'm going to do that again, okay?" I said hastily. Apologetically. "I really, really think that I screwed up. I've got that down."

"I was not criticizing you, Adrienne," he told me. It was so hard to tell... and I was too used to criticism. And unused to apology. "I was merely stating my wishes."

"You don't have a trump of you?" I asked hopefully.

He shook his head. "As far as I know, one hasn't been made. I don't know if that is because I walked the Pattern in Tir."

"You haven't shown up in the deck," I assured him. "And then are other people who didn't either. Simon didn't until he came back to Amber, but he had already walked it before."

"Which Pattern?" Stephan asked.

"I don't know."

"Perhaps those who walk Tir's are somehow invisible to the one who draws the cards," Stephan hypothesized. Ghosts? I couldn't help the thought.

I suggested a card... having a card made. But I couldn't tell him that Moira could do so, since I didn't know if she wanted that told. Nor was I certain that Stephan would want such a thing to be done anyway. But I realized then that I should tell him... "There are people who know that I am looking for you, for various reasons. There are very few people who know that I have actually seen you. But they are people that I trust not to go running back to Brennan or Bleys and tell them that I know where you are."

He nodded, regarding me seriously for a moment.

"There are a few people you could probably trust in Amber," I told him. "That I trust, anyway."

He was silent, simply looking at me. I started to feel uncomfortable in the silence. "I take it that was my cue to leave?" I asked hesitantly.

"No," he said simply. "But if you would like to go keep an eye on Amber."

"Actually, more than that, I *really* want my trunk out of my room," I said quite honestly and fervently, thinking about the herbs, the teas, and the horrifying headache I still had.

"Perhaps then you should go," he told me. "Perhaps this has been enough for now."

Some of the hurt must have shown through my expression as I looked at him. I couldn't read him. Couldn't tell if he truly wanted me to leave, or if he wanted me to stay. He sighed finally. "If you go up to Tir and you wish me to be there, break that."

My hand curled around the crystal, feeling its facets against my palm. "How long did I sleep?" I turned the subject to something neutral. We were drawing apart again. Into calm dialogue. We could have been talking about the weather.

"Time flows differently here. I would say about a half a day has passed in Amber."

"Morning then," I mused, my head reminding me how much it hurt as I turned a bit. I winced. "Maybe I'll just watch practice this morning." I smiled at him suddenly, wishing he could return with me. "I should teach you to shapeshift."

"Maybe someday," he agreed.

"Then you could go anywhere you wished. Without lurking in shadows."

Stephan's voice was gentle as he said, "Some of us like lurking in shadows, Adrienne. We are not all meant for the light."

I didn't know what to say. He felt so remote to me, and I kept getting glimpses of him. Pieces of who he was. "I have absolutely no idea how I'm going to get to know you," I told him, "because you are defying it and it is driving me absolutely nuts. You realize that, don't you?"

He simply smiled, and I rolled my eyes in return. "If it were too easy, would you trust it?" he asked.

"No," I agreed. "But I'm still confused. I don't like being confused."

"I would think from what you've told me, it happens often enough."

"I spend a lot of time doing stupid things," I defended myself. "They don't necessarily all confuse me. I..." I glanced over at him. "I don't suppose you'd tell me more about your visions."

"Would you tell me of yours?" he countered with a mild smile.

"If you told me first," I readily agreed.

"Perhaps we should save that for next time."

I pouted at him. "Its just a ploy to make sure I come back." I hopped off the stool and began pacing. I needed to figure out what to do... how to handle being deaf when I returned to Amber. Stephan hoped it would change, go away perhaps when we weren't together again. But I didn't have high hopes. After all, it had started when I was in Amber. It was only natural to expect it to continue. And if shapeshifting here hadn't fixed it, I didn't think that would change in Amber either.

"Perhaps someone can work a spell for you?" Stephan suggested.

I laughed dryly. "I don't know very many spellcasters that I trust."

"Not even yourself." He smiled.

I had to smile in return. "I trust myself. But I haven't thought of anything yet. If I do..." I glanced over at him. "Would you trust me to work something for you?"

"I'm fine."

They were words spoken by rote, often said and with little meaning behind them. I knew my expression held my disbelief as I stared at him. "Are you really?"

"I've been this way for a long time."

I wasn't entirely certain I believed him. "You might have a chance to change."

"I would consider it," he allowed. "I don't know that I would take it."

"How long has it been?" I asked softly, truly curious to know.

He hesitated long enough that I didn't think was going to answer. "Since I was ten."

"What happened?" The words slipped out and I knew that it was a bad idea as soon as they did.

He glanced away from me. "Some other time, Adrienne."

"May I ask one more pointed question?"

That drew a slight smile. "You may always ask, Adrienne."

"You might not always answer."

"I might not always give you the answer you want. I will always answer."

I took a deep breath. "You walked the Pattern. How do you fit into the lineage?"

His silence was long enough that I wasn't sure he *would* answer. I stood there, staring at him, and started babbling reassurances that whatever he said wouldn't make me run screaming. And even when I was done babbling the silence remained. He began to clean up, his hands busy as his mind thought. I moved to help him. I started to rinse the dishes, that he placed near me but not touching me.

When everything was put away, he started drying the dishes I had washed. I moved behind him, a bit off to the side, just outside of his personal space. I hadn't spoken in all this time, not wanting to distract him. Still hoping he would answer.

He stopped, and stared at the countertop. "I fit in through Bleys."

"Okay," I said softly.

He picked up the dishes and again dried them, as I searched for where they were to go away. And soon enough, working still in silence, everything was done.

"I think its time for me to go." He nodded as I pulled out my trumps. And then I stared at him, wondering how to say goodbye. Just trumping out didn't seem right. But I couldn't touch him... I was afraid of what he would do. What I would do. I looked down at the cards and shuffled through until I found the one of Amber, and then I glanced back up at him.

He was staring at the card, and he reached out and touched the card. My breath caught. He was so close... almost touching me. I shifted my hand slightly, my thumb brushing against his hand as he drew it back. I heard the sharp intake of breath... it wasn't words, but I heard it anyway, and it shivered through me as the Trump activated. And then I stepped through, back to Amber.

I went to my room, walking through the castle and trying not to hear how silent it was. Impossible, really. There was no sound of my feet upon the stone floors. No sound as I pushed my door open and slipped into my rooms, shutting the door behind me. No rustling as I looked through my trunk, finding the right tea for this morning. For this headache. I found a pot and heated some water quickly, and took the mug with me. I wasn't up for practicing this morning, but it looked to be before breakfast, so I thought I would watch. Maybe later, if I felt up to it, I'd practice a bit myself.

Before I left the room, a thought paused me, and I turned back in to grab some paper and a pen. Just in case. I didn't intend to let on, at least not until I had to, that I was deaf, but it might come in handy. If I had to use it.

When I arrived, Jerrym was working by himself, and Deirdre and Phineas worked together. I watched them, waiting at each strike to hear the blows of weapon on weapon, but nothing came. I saw a chair off to one side, and after frowning a bit that it was there, I made my way to it and sat down, sipping at my tea. I paid close attention to Deirdre and Phineas, but kept one eye glancing at Jerrym periodically. I wouldn't have heard him approach, and didn't want to be caught out.

And I was right. After he realized I was there, Jerrym began to move, until he was moving behind the chair. I gulped down the rest of my tea -- it would still work if I drank it fast -- and set down the mug as I turned my body so that I could continue to watch him. I glared slightly, making it obvious that I did not want him there, not behind me like that.

"Don't do that." I opened my mouth and nothing came out that I heard. Just a sort of strange echo in my head of what I thought I should have said. I continued to glare at him, letting the full force of my annoyance burn in my eyes.

I barely had a warning as he moved to attack me. My eyes widened as I rolled backwards off the chair, hitting the ground in a soundless thump. I reached for my main gauche, drawing it as I rolled back to a crouch and then stood. And all the while the pounding behind my eyes never lessened, never stopped. While I prayed for it to go away. I winced as I finally reached the full stance.

Jerrym stopped where he was and picked up the chair, walking away with it. My mouth hanging slightly open I stared at him as he left. He must have said something while I was rolling and I missed it. Because that couldn't have just happened. This was far to surreal. Was I dreaming?

"What did you do that for?" I tried to yell at him. He turned back to me and said something. I watched his lips closely, but couldn't hear anything, couldn't see what he said. I felt frustration stealing over me, blue white hot intensity. And glaring I muttered, "Forget it."

I reclaimed my mug and stalked back to one of the doorways. I had more tea in a pocket, all I needed was the water. My head still pounded, and every step made it pound even worse. But I could find a servant and make myself known. Apparently they could hear me at least, and soon I had my hot water and the tea was steeping. I went back and found a place to sit.

I returned to the surreal sight of Jerrym apparently attacking the chair that he had removed. It either had to be a dream, or Jerrym had finally snapped completely. Uncertain which it was, I watched as Deirdre ended her practice with Phineas and walked over to him. She said something, I believe, and then Jerrym broke one leg off the chair and jumped at Deirdre with his sword in one hand, and the leg of the chair in the other.

Deirdre maneuvered so that she could grab the chair and it became a parrying weapon in her hands as she and Jerrym fought. The chair was chipped away by Jerrym's hits as I watched, trying to figure out what could possibly be going on. I had stopped wondering what I had missed in the conversation, and was instead glad I had missed it. The two fought long and hard, and it gave me a chance to finish my tea in peace. And the headache had faded.

I stood and started stretching, limbering up. I had an idea in mind, and wanted to give something a try. Phineas was watching Deirdre and Jerrym, and I hoped he might be willing to practice with me. It had become obvious to me, surrounded by this silence, that I had a lot to learn. And I didn't see any reason to wait.

I selected a practice sword as close in size and weight to the pattern blade I carried as possible. I had had a thought about the pattern blade, but didn't want to use it against a real person. So instead I wanted to begin with the practice blade. I moved to stand in front of Phineas, trying not to feel insulted when he looked around me at Deirdre and Jerrym. "Would you like to practice?"

I watched him closely. I caught the first word, "Yes," upon his lips, but the rest of what he said was lost to me. My brows knit in confusion and frustration. He seemed to see my frustration, and then said something else. And at my confusion, something else again.

I shook my head. "Do me a favor. If you want to practice now, just nod," I asked hopefully. He nodded, and I said, "Thank you," with some relief.

He moved away from me and selected a different weapon, a mace, and then rejoined me for practice. I was concentrating closely on knowing where things were, sensing them without hearing them. But I quickly realized that when I could no longer see Jerrym and Deirdre that I had no sense of them. Not without losing control of the sparring with Phineas. Every time they were out of my sight I shifted and changed positions, so that I could see them again. Changing the battle so that they were never out of my sight for long. And I knew that Phineas had realized what I was doing, and he tried to stop me. To keep me focussed solely on him. And I didn't like it. I never like not knowing what Jerrym is doing during a practice. All too often he'd tried to sneak up on me, catch me off-guard, and he'd already been acting strange this morning.

Phineas said something. I caught the movement of his lips out of the corner of my eye and I shrugged in response, having no idea what he had said. And I was frustrated as I tried to regain some of my skill, and failed miserably. I practiced harder than I had in a long time, and I was doing so much worse.

And then Phineas managed to catch me out completely. I never saw it coming, and then the sword was flying across the practice yard to land several yards from us. I stopped immediately, as did he. He motioned towards the blade and I nodded, and headed to go get it, still trying to keep everyone in sight. It wasn't easy, and I was wary as I returned, wondering if he intended to continue or stop the fight.

He made a motion to continue, and I nodded. We repeated the pattern for a while, and he continued to disarm me until I figured out the movement. Then once I caught that, he switched to a new movement. I was frustrated, and tired of chasing my weapon. I turned to face him and said calmly, "I've had enough." I couldn't hear myself, still, but obviously he did. He simply shrugged, and I turned to collect the blade and replace it in the rack of practice weapons.

When I turned back, Phineas was looking at me and I took a deep breath. I wanted to know something. It was just a thought, really, that perhaps with the Pattern blade in my hand, concentrating upon the blade... perhaps I could hear then. And fight more effectively. It didn't sound like a bad idea.

I looked directly at him, and asked, "Would you mind a really minor dangerous something." He said something, but I couldn't tell what. Then after a moment he shrugged, spreading his hands as if to ask what. In silence, I slipped the Pattern blade from its scabbard.

The feeling of dread that had been at the back of my mind suddenly intensified furiously. The sky darkened suddenly, and then lightning flashed. I felt the rumble of thunder immediately, felt something hit me. I wasn't sure whether it was Phineas, who I saw flying towards me, or whether it was the lightning. And then I was flying through the air.

I was stunned when I came back to realization. I don't think I blacked out, but I wasn't where I had been, and I don't exactly remember hitting the ground. And I hurt. Everything hurt. Phineas was on the ground near me, and I realized soon it was the best place to be. Rain came pouring down, and I couldn't see through it. I could hardly move. I saw Phineas scrabbling to his feet, pushing against the heavy wind. I couldn't see anything past that in the rain.

I pushed myself to a sitting position and tried to peer through the rain. I couldn't see the sword, and was afraid to try to sense it. What had I done? Why had that happened? I hadn't expected that at all... hadn't thought that anything would happen. All I had done was draw the damned blade.

Wait... I didn't need to use Pattern to look for it. I closed my eyes and felt for the blade... felt for something that I had been trying to learn to use as an extension of myself. But it wasn't there. I had no idea where it had gone, but it wasn't anywhere nearby.

I finally struggled to my feet and made my way inside. I paused long enough to grab my mug and the bag of herbs. Once I was inside, I leaned back against the wall, staring at the sopping wet back that held my herbs in it. I held it over the mug, wondering if I could get enough from it for any effect. When I could feel myself again, when I could truly *feel*, I had a feeling I might need it.

When everyone was inside, I took stock of who was there. Deirdre, Jerrym and Phineas had all made it inside. Brennan was there... I had seen him, vaguely, through the rain. I thought I had seen Chyle as well, but he wasn't with us now so I wasn't sure.

I shifted my focus to Phineas and spoke with heartfelt honesty. "I am sorry. I didn't expect that to happen." I smiled ruefully. "That wasn't what I meant when I said mildly dangerous." He remained silent, and I added, "I'm serious. And..." realization dawned, "you don't believe me. Never mind." I glanced away, closing my eyes and leaning back against the wall.

I felt a tap on the forehead, and jumped, staring at Phineas. "What?"

He spoke in careful exaggeration. The only word I caught was "sword". I sighed in frustration. I wasn't sure what he was asking, but I answered the best I could. "It's a Pattern blade."

He said something again, and I just shook my head. I reached into my pocket and withdrew what was now a soggy pad of paper. Looking at it, I felt defeated, and with a groan I let my head fall back against the wall again.

I felt the pad of paper taken from my hands and when I looked, Brennan had it. He handed it back to me, restored and I took it gratefully. I started to write on it, then realized that was a stupid idea. They could hear me -- I couldn't hear them. "I can't hear a bloody thing you're saying," I told them bluntly.

Phineas responded, and I shoved the pad of paper at him. He looked at it, saying something to Brennan, and handing it to him instead.

"If you guys would write, it would help me a lot," I added. I knew they already knew that, but well, maybe the push would get them started.

I felt the tickle of a trump contact, and then realized that Brennan was holding a card in his hand. Smiling, I guessed it was him, and was right as I accepted the contact.

**Can you hear me?** he asked me mentally. I replied with a relieved yes. He asked me, looking somewhat concerned, **How did you end up being struck deaf?**

I didn't really want to go into all of the details. **I had a small problem while meditating upon the Pattern.**

**The Tir Pattern,** he asked for clarification. I confirmed. **Have you consulted anyone about this?** he asked.

**No...** I said slowly, not real certain where he was going, and not sure I liked the path anyway. **It happened last night.**

**Don't you think that takes a bit of precedence over practice?** Brennan asked practically.

I shook my head. **Actually, I just needed a moment to relax and calm down. And the fact that I can't hear anything, makes me feel very defensive. I needed to get a handle on myself first. What I had actually intended to find out,** I turned to Phineas, who had his hand on Brennan's shoulder now, joining the contact, **and what I had asked you to help me with, is that I was wondering if I could hear things that are Pattern oriented. I did *not* intend to have lightning strike.**

**Is this the first time you have drawn that blade?** Phineas asked.

**Gods no.** I shook my head emphatically.

**Have you ever drawn it in a fight?**

I looked at Phineas, not entirely certain where he was going. **In a pure fight, no. But I've worked with it by myself, to gain comfort with the blade. I have never drawn it against anyone. I've drawn it to meditate on. I have it since the problem with the Patterns.** After a brief pause, I found myself apologizing again to him. **I didn't intend for that to happen.**

**I know you didn't intend for it to happen,** Phineas told me bluntly. **The question is, why did it happen?** He turned to Brennan and started asking him questions, which Brennan answered. The problem was, they were speaking out loud, and I couldn't hear a thing they were saying.

Grumbling, I asked, **What are you talking about?**

**Ardath,** Brennan answered.

I smiled. **I've been looking for her. That's where I found the blade.**

**Maybe she is looking for the blade as well,** Brennan suggested.

**And she's *that* pissed off?** I gestured at the closed door, indicating the storm beyond it. Remembering the lightning vividly. It didn't seem at all like an Ardath thing to do.

**You haven't really done a lot of research into what goes into making a blade like that, have you?** Brennan reminded me. **The amount of power is impressive. There is also a bond.**

**It was not Ardath's,** I remind him. **It was Alayna's. Ardath inherited it from her.**

**Is Alayna dead?** Phineas inquired.

**I thought she was.**

**As far as I know she is,** Brennan assured me.

Phineas and Brennan discussed Alayna and Ardath, but I thought they were on the wrong track. Then a discussion for Phineas's benefit about Sebastian and the troubles with the Pattern as well.

Brennan finally looked at me. My voice was hoarse, and I was shivering in the wet clothing. **Adrienne, go up and get changed. Then get something to eat.** His voice was firm and didn't expect an argument.

**Actually,** I started. Then stopped, realizing I *was* hungry, even though I'd only just eaten that huge meal. **Yeah, I probably should eat. Again.**

I went up and changed into dry clothing, toweling off before I did so. I grabbed a fresh mug, and some new herbs for tea. I swallowed some down quickly while changing, trying to rescue my fading voice and stave off the cold before it could get ahold of me. And then I made my way down to breakfast.

I saw that everyone was there, and talking, but since I couldn't hear them, I sat down and tucked into my breakfast. I set the pad of paper next to my plate, in case anyone wanted to speak with me. I realized after a time that someone was watching me. When I looked up, Bleys was watching me intensely.

"Are you well?" His lips moved very carefully, and I could tell what he said from the way his mouth moved.

I smiled fleetingly. "Good enough." I hoped I wasn't yelling and interrupting everyone at the table. But no one really seemed to take notice of me, so I guess it was alright.

"You should have that looked at." Bleys again spoke slowly, and with concentration I was able to follow him.

I had been considering it, since Brennan had mentioned it. But until someone suggested to me someone I would *trust* to take a closer look at it, I wasn't really in agreement. So I just shrugged. "Perhaps."

Conversation swirled around me, and Bleys looked away for a moment and said something to Jerrym before returning to smile at me. But it only lasted a moment, and then his attention turned to Lydia instead. I returned my attention to my breakfast instead, glancing periodically at those who were talking.

Bleys caught my attention again, "How?"

I sighed. "Meditating on the Pattern."

"That's all?" I could see that he didn't believe me, so I nodded firmly. He smiled slightly. "That you are going to say." I wasn't sure I'd caught that last, but I glared at him just in case. He knew better than to keep digging at me.

Conversation swirled around me as I ate, and I understood none of it. I had never realized just how much we depend upon hearing. Every time someone turned to face another person, I could barely see that they spoke. I wondered how Stephan had learned to survive it.

Finally the frustration burst out and I asked into my silence, "What am I missing?"

It looked like everyone spoke at once, and Bleys looked as if he struggled with himself not to say whatever was on his mind. I grew more frustrated, until Brennan walked over and picked up the pad of paper, to write, "Lydia -- your hearing. Brennan -- your common sense. Bleys -- not going to say it."

I took the piece of paper, holding it loosely in my hand, then shook my head. "Never mind. I'm better off deaf."

Bleys nodded, short and emphatic, agreeing with me.

Conversation again, and Bleys eventually moved to the window, looking out. Deirdre had left a while ago. As much as I felt I was better off without hearing their digs at me, I still wasn't happy with being unable to hear. I continued to watch him curiously.

Bleys did something while he stood there, and then finally walked back. He had speaking all along, but now he picked up my pad of paper and wrote, "The storm is lessening."

I smiled. "That's good."

Brennan took the pad from him and added, "...or perhaps Oberon no longer wanted you to have the sword." He placed it in front of me, where I could easily see it.

"He could have asked for it back," I said dryly. Brennan only gave me a look. I sighed. "Okay, this is the man who dragged Rowan through a Trump contact," I muttered. I don't know what the others said about me, or about the situation, but I did have to admit, Oberon did lack subtlety.

While I ate, I realized that Brennan was going on about something. He spoke with Jerrym, but whatever Jerrym answered didn't seem to satisfy him. Frowning, I asked, "Brennan looks agitated. What's wrong?"

He took the pad, writing, "Can you think of any contributing factors, other than the sword, that might have caused this?" He gestured towards the window, and the storm.

I thought for a moment, and I had been wondering the same while I sat there eating in my silence. And I had come up with something very important. The blade belonged to Rebma. I belonged to Tir-na Nog'th. And I hadn't drawn it in a while... not since...

I looked up at Brennan and silently held up my left hand, showing him the ring. Brennan stared at it for a long time, and I could only guess he looked at it magically, and more than likely with the Pattern as well. Phineas spoke, and I shook my head, pointing at the pad of paper. Brennan took pity on me and wrote down, "What is the significance of that ring?"

I smiled slightly. "It’s a Tir thing."

Phineas looked confused, and chatter broke out again around me. I just sat there and waited for someone to write something down so I could tell what was going on again. "I was going to take you there," I reminded Phineas. It didn't help -- they were still ignoring me. I finally interrupted again. "Do you want me to take you there? If it is ever nice again?"

Phineas looked bewildered. His "why?" was clear to me. And I didn't know what the sudden swirl of conversation that sprang up had to do with, but I guessed it was my obsession with Tir, and Jerrym's agreement with Phineas's assessment of the place. And then Phineas was saying something else that once again I could not hear. I frowned at him, hoping he'd get the point. Or that someone would.

Brennan finally picked up the pad of paper. "Adrienne, I really really really recommend that you see someone immediately about this problem."

My expression was mutinous. "I don't want someone poking around in my head."

"Do you want someone sneaking up behind you and sticking a sword in your back?" I stared at the paper as Brennan wrote, not answering, and he took it back and wrote some more. "Do you want to miss the noise of a possible approach and threats to your person? Do you want to risk fouling up some sort of magic that requires a verbal component because you cannot speak it properly?"

I continued to stare at him mutinously, and he chuckled slightly as he wrote, "Do I really need to come up with more reasons?"

"I don't think its going to be as easy as you think it is to cure." I spoke carefully, as softly as I could and still feel the vibrations in my throat. "I think I am going to have to learn to live with it, rather than going and looking for magic to take it away." After all, I hadn't been able to shift it away... it made me think it was a part of me now. A part of who I was.

He shook his head, writing one more thing. "You are certainly not going to find the answers if you do not look for them."

I smiled tightly. "I have one suspicion. I just can't look right now."

I don't think Brennan was satisfied with that, but it was the best I could do. I knew it had to have something to do with Stephan. And with the Pattern. But I just wasn't sure how to deal with it. Instead I turned to Jerrym.

"Jerrym?" He looked over at me, startled. I had to smile at his expression. "May I speak with you later?"

When he spoke, I had to shake my head. "I'm sorry." I wished I could read lips. At least, more often than when they tried so hard to let me. "I can't read lips that well."

He reached for the notebook, and sat down and wrote quickly. "Will you be able to hear me?"

"No, we'll need the pad of paper," I gestured at it. He didn't look pleased, and I sighed, "Never mind."

"Do you plan on being deaf forever?" Jerrym wrote.

"I hope not, but I might be." I couldn't tell, and well, I should just learn to deal with it. "If you don't have the time, I understand."

He spoke, then with a grumble, wrote, "I have the time."

I nodded, pleased, and smiling a little then. "At your convenience. I..." I realized something then, and groaned, "I won't be able to hear the door, so you might want to trump me." I caught his look then, contemplative, and shook my head. "You are determined to make me realize just how bad this is, aren't you?"

His expression was so carefully innocent that it was obvious that he was not. I burst into laughter at the look. Jerrym saw something beyond me, and when I turned I saw Artor. My eyes lit up. There was someone I would trust to talk to about this difficulty. Jerrym walked over and handed him the pad of paper and pen, and then left the two of us to 'talk'.

"What has he left me with?" Artor wrote.

"The only way to talk to me," I said cheerfully. "I'm going through a lot of paper again."

Brennan reached over and took the pad of paper from Artor, writing, "Was the incident that caused your deafness the first time you had meditated on Tir's Pattern while holding Ardath's sword?"

"I've been wearing the sword since I got it," I chuckled. I turned back to Artor. "Could we speak at some point?"

"When would you like to speak?" he wrote. I just shrugged. He walked over to the buffet, and filled a large plate, and then stood there, waiting for me. I was grateful, and followed him out. As we walked, Artor was flipping through the pad of paper, shaking his head at some of the things he saw there.

Something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye. Had Artor said something? I glanced over at him, and just barely saw Phineas walking behind us. I rolled my eyes. "I'm really tired of people making a point," I told him. "I'd like to have a private conversation with Artor."

He said something, and of course, I couldn't understand a thing of what he said. So I simply glared at him, then turned and stalked off down the hallway. Artor stayed behind for a moment, but caught up with me soon after, and I gestured for him to lead the way. Which he did, to his rooms.

Artor went to the window and opened it, letting in a small bedraggled bird. He carefully dried it off, speaking with it as it sat in the palm of his hand. Then his hand began to glow a soft green color, and I could feel the magic there, but very focussed. Very careful. The sparrow then flew over to me, settling on my shoulder.

"How's that?" he asked.

A smile spread over my face as I heard his familiar voice. "Ah... blissful." I could feel my body relaxing.

Artor didn't waste any time and got straight down to business. "So, how did you get this way? Or did you want me to run some tests?"

"I think I got too close to somebody with the Pattern," I admitted. "Remember that conversation we had about contacting someone using the Pattern?" He nodded, not looking entirely certain where I was going with this. "I've done it," I told him, forcing my voice to cheerfulness. "Quite successfully. I'd rather that not go beyond this room. It's really not something I want known publicly." A sudden vision of Stephan came to me, and I added, "And there are reasons why I'd rather not have anyone poking around in my head right now."

"Do they not have hearing?" Artor asked, in a flash of insight.

I hesitated before answering. Then I said softly, "We thought it would get better when we sorted ourselves out. We thought it would go away. But it hasn't. And I can't shift it away. And there are some other things that lead me to believe I might be stuck with it. We're a little on the linked side."

"Do you want the link severed?" Artor asked.

I looked up at him, startled at the question. I knew I should answer yes. But I had to answer honestly, my voice so soft I almost wasn't heard. "No."

"Okay." Artor simply accepted that. I like Artor. He doesn't judge. He just is. "The parts of your brain that hear speech are still working. Or you would not hear me now."

"I can hear him," I tell him. "And he can hear me."

"That may be the link."

I had to agree with that, nodding. Touching the ring lightly. "Basically, I've just been screwing up royally all over the place for the past twenty four hours or so."

"So what happened with the sword?"

The laugh escaped, sharp, before I could stop it. "I don't know," I admitted, shaking my head.

"What seemed to happen from your viewpoint," Artor clarified.

"I started to unsheathe it, then things got really dark really fast." I shivered slightly at the memory. "I tried to resheathe it, and then I got blown halfway across the courtyard and it was gone. I tried to sense it, and it wasn't anywhere nearby. And I'm rather afraid to do any more..." I sighed, "I get the feeling that either the Pattern's mad at me or else I've just really blown it lately. Because everything I've done with it hasn't gone well. So I don't want to try any harder to search for it."

Artor seemed to sniff me suddenly. "Were you in Tir last night? You smell of Tir."

I smiled wanly. "That's the other part of the story. The other reason I think I might be stuck with it."

"Because Tir is silent," he said musingly.

"Because I think I might hear Tir," I explained my side of it. "I think I might have achieved what I was looking for, but not exactly the way I wanted. But I haven't been up to Tir yet to see if I'm right. Things have been changing. I've been having some really strange dreams and visions."

"Can you talk about this with Alex?" Artor suggested. I couldn't argue with the idea, since I had been trying to do just that.

"If he'd answer my Trump calls," I muttered. "I've been trying to contact him ever since he woke me up."

Artor chuckled. "Okay, let's just pretend I wasn't there."

"Huh?" I smiled then, realizing how much odder than usual I sounded. "I had a dream. A really strange vivid dream of being in Tir. And Alex woke me up from it, told me I was asleep."

"Was Alex in your dream, or out of your dream?"

"I thought he was in my dream. He walked into my room in Tir. Told me I shouldn't be doing that. Banished the person I was talking with, and told me to wake up. Which I did." The explanation fell short of most of the dream, and left out the part about my raw hands and feet. But it was good enough for the moment.

Artor was thoughtful. "Some of the more poetic references call Tir the city of dreams. Do you think there could be a connection there?"

"Mm-hm." I nodded. "I get the feeling I am far more tangled up in Tir than I ever expected to be."

"What have you been doing to encourage this?"

I smile. "Before or after things went crazy?" He made a motion, and I started at the beginning. "Just studying it. Like you and I had talked about. Meditating on the Pattern -- I couldn't walk it because it was all overpowered. But that's about it."

"Can you talk this over with Fiona?"

I sighed. "I'm really afraid of trusting people right now, Artor," I admitted. I couldn't... this was the most I had spoken about Stephan to anyone other than that bit with Jerrym before, and I just couldn't do anymore.

"Very well. But please understand that Tir is far from my specialty," he explained. "And aside from one or two incidences, I have had very little contact with it."

"I know," I murmured. "What I really want to do is go to Tir again right now. But that's not going to happen." I glanced at the window, at the rain pouring down outside.

"Why not?" Artor asked. My gaze was startled as I looked at him, and he amended, "Well, not right now because it's daytime."

"It's been raining every night," I reminded him. "So it's not there."

"Rain is a simple matter," he said slowly. "I can dismiss a storm, depending on what has caused it, this dismissal may take some time."

"So tonight you could help me get up to Tir?" I asked, equally slowly.

"Yes." He nodded.

I had to smile, and I managed to keep myself from leaping over to hug him. "I very much appreciate that," I said fervently. He was thoughtful then, and I asked, "What are you thinking?"

"That I will probably wish to spend most of the day resting," he answered practically. I had to agree, it seemed like a good idea, especially if we would both be expending energy to deal with Tir that evening. He glanced over at me, "You've felt the doom."

It wasn't really a question. "Yes. I don't know what it is. Nobody knows what it is."

"I do not wish to be in an expended state when it arrives," Artor explained. "What are your plans for Tir, if it becomes available tonight?"

"To go up and bring someone there."

"This person you made contact with," he clarifies.

I nod. "And to see if we can hear. Because that might be where we belong now."

Artor frowned. "As much as I dislike them, I may wish to see the vision myself. If that would not disturb your activities."

"No, it won't," I agreed. It is easy enough to stay out of someone's way in Tir-na Nog'th. "I just ask one favor. Don't tell anyone who I'm with."

"Is it an enemy of Amber?"

"I don't believe so."

"Is it an enemy to anyone who dwells within Amber?" Artor clarified.

"Possibly," I had to admit.

He looked at me for a moment. "Will you accept responsibility for their actions from this point forward?"

"Yes."

"With regard to Amber and those who dwell within Amber?"

"I will do anything I can to stop him from doing anything against Amber," I said firmly.

"Will you let him know that you have done this?"

"Yes, next time I see him."

Artor nodded. "Then I will not tell anyone unless I believe him to be taking actions against Amber, and you to be powerless to prevent it."

I smiled with relief. "Thank you."

"What would be your choice for a familiar animal?" Artor shifted the subject.

"So I can hear? I have no idea." I had never really considered the idea. But to hear... oh, I'd do what it took.

"I don't think the bird would be a good permanent choice," he told me, gesturing at the small sparrow still on my shoulder. "The pacing is driving it crazy."

I laughed nervously, and apologized to the bird. And then I left the decision up to Artor. After some consideration, he chose a ferret. Although I had to admit, the image of a stag following me everywhere was amusing. He thought he would have it ready in a day or so, after finding a creature and convincing it. I told him I would answer Trump if he should call, and if I left Amber. I was considering going with Stephan after Tir-na Nog'th, to learn more about how to deal with deafness. How to fight, most especially.

"I should probably go back to my room," I mused.

"And rest," he suggested.

"No, no," I shook my head. "Not unless I ward my room." I couldn't imagine sleeping in Amber like this. Unaware if my door should open. I had a lot of work to do.

"Just do not think that this need for adequate protection will go away if your hearing should return," he said suddenly. "As far as I know, you are not currently a target for assassins. But it is best to be prepared before such an event occurs."

"I will go work on that," I said softly. "Thank you."

"I will see you this evening."

As I reached the door, the small bird left my shoulder, going back to settle on Artor's palm. I smiled at it, then left, heading back to my rooms quickly. I had a lot of work to do, and wanted another cup of tea. As I placed the herbs in the small metal ball I used to infuse them, I smiled and shook my head. I'd need to remember to get more, replenish my supplies, at the rate I was going through them lately. But I was cheered now, by the thought that at least within a day or so, Artor would be able to give me something to help me hear again. All I had to do was survive until then.