Chapter Text
Time passed unevenly for the years that followed. I can’t now recall the exact order of events… Plots came and went, the seasons shifted through their courses until they blended into one. Many of the older lords passed on, replaced by their sons and daughters. It was unsettling to see new faces take up old names while my own appearance barely changed.
I know that the elder Antebellum lived just long enough to see her granddaughter married. The newly appointed Lady took over the house affairs; even her new husband was content to let her. She was a force of nature at court! She had a hand in almost every conspiracy; from senseless flirtations to full-scale treason. It was impossible to untangle exactly where the layers of deceit ended and the real woman began. I adored her. She was witty, charming, and often sought my company (mostly to stir up trouble). We developed a friendly rivalry (if you can consider a series of covert battles friendly) but it was all grown from a healthy respect.
My role at court evolved as my friendship with Galbatorix did. The closer we got, the more he shared with me. I became was his most trusted advisor (since politics bored Morzan to tears). In the decade or so following my return, I took on a very unique role for Torix. I had extensive experience operating a spy network after all and he recognized my skillset (even if he didn’t care for how it was built). I hid in plain sight while serving as a spy, thief, courier, and assassin. Nothing numbs a person to taking life like doing it over and over and over and over again. Most of my targets were low profile; people who wouldn’t really be missed. Some were spies while others were innocent casualties of greater schemes. It was fascinating to watch how each delicate thread connected to the larger web, and how a single thrust of a dagger could upend years of politicking. This participation felt more “real” to me. I could affect the outcome from outside of the machinations themselves, and all to the benefit of the crown.
Yet, there was one task that he gave me that was harder on my spirit than all the rest combined.
I sipped my tea calmly, using the excuse to take in the mid-summer gardens. The palace in Uru’baen had long since recovered from our acquisition; returned now to her full splendor. Roses bloomed thickly around our table, their aroma adding pleasantly to the overall experience of the tea. I normally couldn’t stand socializing with the other court ladies (no better excuse for mindless gossip has ever been created) but, in the case of Antebellum, I made an exception.
Lady Antebellum tittered politely with her guests. Not one of them so much as suspected the snake in their midst… no one but me. She snapped a fan open, small comfort against the blistering heat, and shot a conspiratorial look around the table. “So, all of you will be in attendance at the summer Gala.” A chorus of confirming chatter met her query. She waved her fan impatiently and continued, “Then you will all be in prime position to witness the most heinous poaching.” She launched full force into one of her beloved court romances. I tolerated her flights of fancy because, buried beneath the idle gossip, was a mind equal to the very greatest lords. She had inherited her Grandmother’s title: the Masked Lord of Aroughs, and she was determined to leverage it to complete dominance.
The conversation around me lulled as if a cloud had drifted over the sun. A familiar voice sounded just behind me. “Lilleth, there is a delicate matter we must discuss.”
I turned and looked my ebrithil up and down. He wasn’t angry, at least not enough to wear it openly. “Of course. Lead the way.” I followed him all the way back to his office.
He rested against the desk, rubbed a palm down his chin, and offered a chair. “I dislike the necessity of this conversation.”
“Never a promising start.”
“During your time away from Uru’baen, I made a minuscule degree of progress with the eggs.”
This was a rare opportunity indeed; as a general rule, Torix spoke as little about his most prized possessions as possible. Not even all of the Forsworn knew their exact whereabouts, myself included. I sat forward excitedly. “Has one of them-”
“No, but I did discover something crucial about them.” I gestured for him to continue without delay. “Only one of them is female.”
I raised an eyebrow. Generally, it was better to be patient with his dramatic reveals, but I was far from in the mood. “And…?”
“Given the state of the thirteen’s partners, there is a high degree of chance that they are incapable of breeding. Morzan’s dragon nearly ripped off one of Shruikan’s wings earlier this very afternoon when I broached the subject with her rider. Even Eltereth’s charges are disinterested in the practice by all accounts. Which leaves exactly one potential breeding pair alive in the world.”
I blinked. “I’m afraid I’m not-”
“Katana is the last… sane female dragon alive, and she will remain so until the blue egg finds her rider.” He delivered the words haltingly as if he were waiting for me to strike him.
I was certainly tempted to do just that. “Katana has no mate, and as you just said there aren’t any feasible partners left-”
“Not so,” he cut in smoothly. “There is one.”
I gaped at him. “You want Katana to bond with… to mate with Shruikan?” The thought made me uncomfortable for so many different reasons. Shruikan was... mentally unwell. Years of servitude to his soulmate’s murderer had made him violent, angry, bitter, and petty. Most days, he lazed about the treasury waiting for an unfortunate castle resident to bumble in so he could unleash his pent-up rage. He would still tolerate Katana, but their interactions consisted mostly of eye contact certainly, nothing to indicate intimacy. Plus there was the simple fact that he was her teacher; her ebrithil, and that their respective partners were… well, Torix and me!
“I want to at least explain the situation to them.” Torix held up his hands defensively. “It is their species on the brink of destruction; it is their decision whether to save it or let it fall.”
“Really?” I leaned back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other. “If they refuse, you will stand aside and abide by their choice? Pardon me for saying so, but that doesn’t sound like my mentor.”
He sighed; a deep and heavy burden clearly weighing on him. “I don’t relish this situation any more than you do, believe me. By the Order’s principles, it would have been the height of taboo. There is every possibility they will refuse on a variety of grounds: ethical concerns, intellectual differences... not to mention their egos. Even so, it is my obligation as not only a king but as one of the last Dragon Riders to do everything in my power to prevent their extinction. Thus, the unpleasant mantle falls to us to convince them, by any means we may, to perform their duty to Alagaesia.”
“So by ‘their decision’ you mean, whatever they say we’ll badger them until they change their minds? And here I thought you were an expert in seduction; the way Morzan talks about your antics.” I scoffed and tossed my hair back from my face. “The only way Katana would ever agree to this is if Shruikan can convince her himself. I can help guide him, and encourage her… but one does not simply ‘order’ a dragon-ess to do anything.”
Torix scrutinized me with uncomfortable intensity. “You want to help Shruikan ‘seduce’ Katana?”
I shrugged. “No, I don’t. But I know that you won’t stop until this takes place, and I’d rather give her a chance at happiness.”
He tapped his fingers along the desk. “There are elements here that may be effective. We’ll both spend the rest of the evening deducing where they stand with one another. For now, keep this conversation between us.”
“Yes, Master.”
-:- -:- -:-
I leaned back against Katana’s side, luxuriating in the body-warmed wind block. The sun had set long ago, but the western sky was still a blurry, purplish crimson. I yawned and rested my head back, closing my eyes against the stunning scenery. It helped me focus on the series of images within. Katana shared her afternoon hunt with me, lingering in detail on her incredible stealth. I think perhaps “Shadowclaw” should be my title. Or, “Whisperdeath”.
I don’t think they suit you at all. Katana huffed a whirl of smoke and I sneezed. Ah, hey! I just meant that they’re too dreary for you. I was thinking more, “Moondancer” or something like that. It should be elegant!
I’m not elegant. Katana sniffed. I am ferocious, as befits a dragon. If you want elegance, speak to…
To no one. I interrupted before she could wander into unpleasant thoughts. I heard about the incident with Shruikan Ebrithil and Morzan’s dragon. Are you alright?
Perfectly. Shruikan can fend for himself and then some.
I noted the more casual naming convention, and even more so the extra bit of praise she lavished on the elder dragon. I got an uneasy stirring in my gut that Galbatorix’s scheme would be easier to accomplish than I originally thought. Speaking of Shruikan, how has he been? You’ve been spending a lot of time with him. It can’t all be spent napping!
Try telling him that. Katana yawned and snaked her head around to rest in my lap. She’d grown so much; I could still vividly remember a time when her entire body could fit comfortably on my shoulder. Shruikan is fond of sleeping; it keeps him from thinking.
Oh?
Yes. Especially about his… about Galbatorix. Her hesitation surprised me. She wasn’t really known for mincing words (what dragon was?) and especially not about our teacher. She continued before I could really pick her brain on the subject. The past years have been especially unkind to him.
You’d think the early days would be painful enough that nothing else could compare.
It’s his accelerated growth. The spell they use is flawed; his bones struggle to support his added muscles and his wings ache after every flight. Galbatorix, Siyamak, and Kialandi have all consulted on the issue, and so far the best they can do is alter the spells in the future and ease his discomfort.
That’s awful! I never even knew. When did he tell you all of this?
He’s always shared it with me. I’m the only one he ever could share it with. Her thoughts rang of dignity and pride, particularly of how proud she was to be Shruikan’s confidant.
Well, I can only hope some progress is made as soon as possible. Maybe I’ll raise the issue with Torix and work on it with him?
I felt Katana withdraw from my mind fractionally, as a child would step back from their mother when hiding something behind their back. Another project with him?
I mean, what’s one more on top of dozens? I couldn’t risk upsetting her right now, not with such an important task in front of me. Still, I made a note to get the truth out of her when I had the chance. Besides, as much as I hate to admit it, he and I make a pretty incredible team.
For Shruikan’s sake, I hope so. She readjusted her head until she was looking away from me.
I felt a hard knot growing in the pit of my stomach. “So do I.”
Galbatorix had much more of a challenge “persuading” Shruikan to go in on the plan. He never shared the details, but a part of me always knew that the elder dragon was a…. less than consenting participant. The idea of it made me sick… and yet. Galbatorix’s earnest insistence that it was the only way to preserve their species really got in my head. I was able to separate from my own decency; my own morals. I make no excuses for my role in the monstrosity, that of an informed and un-helping bystander. I merely wish to…. Explain. To warn.
Torix has a talent for worming his way between a person and their better judgment. Things that were once unthinkable suddenly become second nature with him whispering in your ear. For someone who has never known him it goes beyond explanation. I will simply say this: you are never in more danger than when you believe yourself to be safe. He is especially effective when dealing with someone intelligent and proud; the kind of person that believes themselves “too strong” to be manipulated… someone like me.
But then, he wasn’t the only one who could be dangerous.
I watched from an alcove as my target approached their door. The hallway was long and dark, and my target carried only a thin candle to ward against the gloom. They crept closer, fully on guard now that my little message was within sight. An elegant, stiletto blade stuck firmly in the seam of the double doors, supporting a piece of torn parchment. The message was hastily scrawled in a dark red substance, so tiny that my target had to approach quite close indeed for it to be legible. I of course knew what it said, so I crouched in the shadows, eagerly waiting for the opportunity to spring out.
They closed the last inches to the message, reaching a gloved hand up to dislodge the blade. The moment their head bent to scrutinize the page, I started my approach, silent as a prowling cat and weightless as moonbeams. Years of creeping around the forsworn gave me a natural proclivity for this sort of work; for being undetectable. In the moments it took my target to understand his danger, I’d already closed the distance between us to a few footfalls.
But I still wasn’t quick enough.
With a twitch of muscles honed to perfection over years of training, my own blade shot through the darkness toward me. I deflected the missile straight up into the air. It turned, end over end, glinting in the flickering light. My hand darted up like a striking snake, snatching the hilt mid-turn, but I still couldn’t keep up with my behind my opponent. I felt a sharp jab in my collarbone. I slowly lowered my gaze, arm still lifted, to see the tip of a sword resting there. A single drop of blood stained the pure white blade, giving it an even more eerie appearance than usual.
“You couldn’t have just scryed me?” Torix said mildly, lifting Vrangr from my skin and sheathing it with the elegance of a master.
I frowned, but couldn’t quite resist a chuckle. “Now where’s the fun in that?” I asked merrily, tucking the dagger back into one of my many concealed sheaths. “Maybe I just like to see you squirm.”
He shook his head, with that same exasperated expression he so often wore when confronted with my antics. For all his complaining, he never actually punished me for my little pranks. It helped too that I could hold my own against the forsworn these days; so much so that I gave as good as I got when the inevitable brawls broke out. By our own house rules, so long as I could finish what I started, I had free reign to do nearly anything. He spoke seriously, but I caught the smile as he turned away, “I’ll take it that you’ve completed your assignment?”
“Dead as dirt, Captain,” I chirped with a salute. “And good riddance.”
“I certainly won’t mourn him.”
“Who would? He was dull; a complete waste of a noble title.”
“Hopefully his son is ready to take on the challenge.”
“If he isn’t, there’s always plan b.” He crumpled my threatening note and tossed it over his shoulder with a laugh.
I caught it. “You could at least say thank you?”
He paused. I braced for a scathing retort; something dripping in sarcasm and venom (like our normal, friendly interactions). He crossed one arm over his hips and bowed low, “ Elrun ono, finiaril. ”
I hesitated. Did the ancient language allow for sarcasm? Or, even more frightening, was he being… sincere ? But then, just as he righted his posture and turned away I caught it; the glimmer of amusement he could never quite conceal from his eyes. I threw the wadded ball of paper at his back. “You’re so very welcome, ebrithil .”
“You needn’t bother with the formalities any longer. We, or more specifically you, have grown beyond them. I consider you a rider in your own right.” A tender smile crossed his face as he glanced over his shoulder. “You may call me as the others do when we’re alone.” I felt a chill crawl down my spine. Something in the air was familiar. It felt like the ghost of a memory from many years ago; an edge of dark tension taking over the air.
I swallowed hard. I may have gotten comfortable referring to him by name in my own thoughts, but saying it out loud to his face was a very different beast. “… thank you, Torix.”
He nodded in approval, opened the door of his quarters, and held it ajar for me. “Coming?”
I followed without hesitation.
I t was frankly ridiculous how much time the two of us spent together. When he finally shrugged off the heavy mantle of command for the day, he could actually be pleasant company. We spent hours discussing every subject conceivable. I particularly enjoyed listening to him expound on magical philosophy. For all his failings (and I could consume another volume exploring just that subject) the man was most definitely a genius. A frightening… uncanny genius,. He also had a secret passion for scholarly pursuits; particularly archeology and ancient history. A passion for which Morzan and I teased him relentlessly.
Until the night when he made both of us eat our mockery.
I ran into the big man on the way to Torix’s room. He was walking steadily enough, but his cheesy grin spoke of a long night down in the taverns. Morzan’s love of drink grew steadily more pronounced over the years, but his tolerance had grown with it. In a given evening, he consumed enough to kill a lesser man or paralyze a small horse. He spread his arms with a garbled shout, “Biiiiitch!”
I trotted the last few steps and embraced him. Even now that I’d grown to my full height, he was still a foot and a half taller. His bear hug crushed the wind out of me so I could only croak, “Good to see you too, Mama.”
He grinned and nuzzled the top of my head. “Aaaw, you missed me, didn’t you?”
“No,” I escaped his arms with a shove, “I just saw you this morning!”
“And now we get to spend the evening together? How romantic!”
I laughed off his flamboyant jesting. “You’re getting confused in your old age. I thought you were an attached lady?”
Morzan put a hand over his heart. “I may be loyal to Daddy, but I’ve been so lonely the past few days! He’s cooped up with another scheme; it’s like he doesn’t even have time for me!”
I sighed and rubbed my temple. “Magical or mundane?”
“I dunno yet. I have to bother him to find out, and I was waiting till tonight!” He draped an arm over my shoulders. “Shall we?” He pushed me along without waiting for a response.
We found Torix in his study. He was a man possessed: hair in disarray, clothing stained, bags beneath his reddened eyes, and a streak of ink across his left cheek. Scraps of paper littered the room; some were torn or crumpled on the ground, but many of them were tacked up precisely in rows and clusters. He didn’t even lift his head from a pile of tattered old journals when Morzan and I barged in. “I’ve done it.”
“Oh, you’ve done it alright,” Morzan said, “And I’ve had it! You have some nerve ignoring me-”
“Not now. I’ve found it! No more than a thread, but it’s all I need...”
“What exactly have you found?” I asked gently, scrutinizing his mad-cap scribbling. It all seemed perfectly unconnected to me; a letter here, a torn page of verse there… and yet, he’d clearly drawn some meaning from it all.
“What no one believed I could!” He stood up so suddenly that his chair tipped backward onto the floor with a crash. Loose papers flew up around him, a mirror of his excitement. “The very thing that vexed Vrael, and his predecessor, and every rider since the Order came to be!”
I glanced at Morzan. He lifted a finger to his head and drew tight little circles next to his temple. Crazy indeed. “But what exactly is it?”
“The last strand of a weave that many thought long lost.” Galbatorix plucked a single page from a moldy book. “This tome was penned by a Rider, one Saren Arthos, nearly a millennia ago. In it, he makes mention of a grand tapestry that once hung in Teirm’s central stronghold; embroidered with cryptic lines of the ancient language.” He replaced the page tenderly, as if tucking in a babe, and swiveled to examine his web. “Now, as is commonly known, Teirm was razed and reconstructed since that time. However, a record of the tapestry does still exist in the personal journal of their court mage, a curmudgeonly and tedious old man by the name of-”
“ You don’t get to call anybody tedious, Daddy. Skip to the good part.” Torix frowned and stared at Morzan. Slowly, the interrupter raised his hands apologetically and dropped onto a stool near the hearth. “Sorry. You were saying?”
“.... By the name of Vustin. He ended up the pet mage of a different pirate lord. That is an epic in and of itself and he continued his journaling throughout the process. The captain he served was eventually caught and hanged, and the majority of his crew alongside him. The crew’s treasure was largely taken in the capture of their vessel, but their non-valuable possessions were left to rot in the wreckage.”
“So, how exactly are these,” I flipped one of the disintegrating covers closed, “sitting here in front of us?”
Torix pointed at me with a self-satisfied grin. “Thanks in large part to the efforts of our very own sea hag.”
“Formora did something useful?” Morzan scoffed, hands resting behind his head. “That’s got to be a first.”
“I owe most of this progress to Formora,” Torix waved a hand over the great mess, “I doubt I could have seen the connections without her. It was she who recalled tales from her old crewmates about a mage-turned-monster out on the seas. She was then able to find the original report of the pirates’ capture and give me a reasonable estimate of where the wreck might be.”
“These were at the bottom of the ocean?” I grazed a finger over the spine. Given that, they were in remarkable shape.
“Mostly buried beneath silt and sand,” Torix said. “And how grateful I am to dear, tedious Vustin for his meticulous journaling; for he and his crew may have actually stumbled upon something far more interesting than an old scrap of cloth.” He ducked a hand into the pile and dug out one volume in particular, half of it torn completely away. “He describes an inlet far to the north where their crew became briefly trapped by a sudden frost. They managed to extricate themselves but, before they did, they discovered a carving deep within a cave.”
Even Morzan leaned forward, hanging off of every dramatic word, “What was it?”
“My guess is simple; it was a door to an ancient vault, perhaps even a tomb. Because inscribed upon its surface were lines in the ancient language. They read, as best I can tell from his rendering, ‘peaceful rest’, ‘Hero’, and ‘Nameless Keeper’. The rest is too damaged to make out.”
“Keeper of what?” I breathed. If he was getting at what I thought he might be…
“Exactly,” Torix slapped his stack of notes. “I have torn apart every account of northern Alagaesia, stretching back to the earliest systems of writing, and yet, not a single one gives context to this mystery.”
“You don’t think…?” Morzan purred, beaming up at Galbatorix.
“I do. This is the piece that the order was missing all those millennia. This,” He paused for even more dramatic effect, though his audience was already vibrating with excitement, “is the first real lead in five thousand years that may lead us to the Name.”
Torix was so excited that he could have flown out that very night. You know that you’ve lost your head when Morzan is the voice of reason! Between the two of us, we managed to calm him down enough to think rationally. Obviously, he wouldn’t trust the task to anyone else. And, in his own words, “You are the two companions I would most like to have at my side.”
It was decided then that subjugating the last free eldunari, appointing trustworthy vassals that could manage the kingdom during his brief absence, and planning our journey would take precedence over all else. The first of this task would fall almost completely on Galbatorix’s shoulders; he had a “special touch” when it came to the unsavory work. Morzan took to the last with gusto, pouring over maps and old shipping records with Formora into the wee hours (the most amiable I’d ever seen them). I was then saddled with the second; scrutinizing every single courtier to find the trustworthy, the troublesome, and the pliable.
And there was only one woman’s input that I considered reliable enough to assist with that task.
I had never, not even once, invited a non-family member into my private rooms since my days with Anthony. Harold (loyal, steadfast, and remarkable Harold) was the sole exception as he tended to my every need. He was a grown man now, with neatly trimmed dark hair, a beard, and a mustache. I couldn’t help but see the ghost of the too-serious boy from all those years ago, but he had grown into his own confidence quite nicely. During my stint in Surda, he’d been absorbed by the kitchen staff, rising up to assistant pastry chef (the man had phenomenal baking skills, of which I often took full advantage). I fished him out and placed him back in charge of my affairs, and he’d proven himself the most capable servant in the palace.
Harold was responsible for arranging the table in my outermost room for the afternoon’s entertainment. Dainty towers of cakes, cookies, and other sweets were complimented by fragrant green tea. He’d even arranged fresh lilies as the centerpiece; a quiet show of support that I found touching. Gods know I need all the support I can get for this sparring match.
I sipped my tea, serene as could be, and looked up at my guest. “Welcome, Lady Antebellum. I am pleased that you were able to meet with me this afternoon.”
The lady sat across from me, lovely as a portrait. Her hair was bound up, as was proper for a married lady, with flower-headed pins. She put my much more somber style to shame in her gossamer pink silk gown that floated effervescently around her. “I wouldn’t dare miss a chance to share your company, Ms. Lilly.” She had long enjoyed the privilege of addressing me by name in private. “Though, I confess, I still cannot for the life of me understand why you offered it?”
“You have too much of my esteem for me to waste your time.” I gestured for Harold to refill my cup. “There is a matter that requires my urgent attention, and I have found you to be the most capable advisor on this subject.”
Any other noble would have fawned for the flattery. Antebellum gave me a wary look over her teacup, measuring my sincerity. “You wouldn’t happen to be planning a ball? I adore any excuse for a fette.”
“Unfortunately not, though I promise that I will consult you should that day come.” I paused while Harold sliced and served an apple tart. “I am in the market for a new friend. I thought of you.”
My guest sized me up shrewdly. “You can hardly have a shortage of people pining for your friendship. As flattered as I am, I can’t help but think of several families better situated…”
“It isn’t your family name with which I’m looking to ally myself.” Her look sharpened, pupils dilated, tongue resting on the edge of her white, even teeth. It was this that made her stand out to me; a keen ambition, sharp wits, and incomparable charms. “It is you, yourself, that I find intriguing. I believe you are capable of overseeing a little project for me. Should you prove successful, well,” I spread my hands, “you can imagine the benefits for all involved.”
She munched quietly on her treat, deep in thought. When she spoke again, it was a reserved and deferential platitude. “It would be imprudent for me to agree unconditionally; I am honor-bound to put the needs of Aroughs above even my own family.”
“I guarantee that this task will not interfere with your position. Or, if it somehow does, it will be because of your own failings.”
She sipped her tea and replaced her cup noiselessly in its saucer. “Might we speak frankly; as friends?”
A smirk curled my lips. “Of course.” It was that for which I had been waiting; my very favorite thing about Antebellum.
All of the flowery frivolity vanished with a blink of her lovely blue eyes. This side of the woman before me was pure business. “Excellent. Now, since we both know perfectly well that I cannot refuse you, I would appreciate being asked again in plain terms. It cannot possibly be wealth or connections that you’re after, nor is it my rank or title. What precisely do you require of me, and why am I the one you chose?”
No other noble would dare speak to me this way (like a fellow human being). I rewarded her candor with a bit of my own. “You have a way with people. A way that I, for all my effort, am sorely lacking. With my access and your skills, we could finally bring some of these men to heel. More tea?”
“Please.” Harold dutifully ventured around the table to refill her cup, but he returned to stand protectively at my back. “So, it is a matter of networking after all.”
“If the Forsworn can teach us anything, it is that teams are best built from various skill sets. There are tasks that are perfectly in my wheelhouse,” I placed a petite lemon custard cake on a tiny plate, “and others that are not.” Next to it, I set a chocolate eclair. “A wise leader delegates in such situations.”
“And yet, you have still not told me exactly what tasks these might be?”
“No doubt they will vary over time. At the moment, I need you to make more friends; people like you, and like me.”
“Beautiful young women with sharp wits? They can certainly make for pleasant company.”
“People who are more than they may seem. Not too many of course; a handful or so will be more than sufficient. I trust that you won’t discriminate based on any particular traits.”
“Talented and underestimated. Is there a deadline for this assignment?”
“In ten days, you will receive an invitation to dine with Galbatorix. I will have your report then.”
“I shall look forward to the honor.”
Antebellum was the sort of “friend” that I didn’t need to trust in the traditional sense. She was intelligent, ruthless, and (at least to me) predictable. With her assistance, I compiled a tidy network ( noble and commoner alike) that could oversee the goings on of court without constant supervision. Between our flock and Siyamak’s intimidating presence in Uru’baen, my task was fulfilled.
Galbatorix, Morzan, and I were on the wing before the month was out.