Clea frowned. "I don't understand. Are you sure you're all right?"
Jon laughed. "Of course I'm all right. I can't really explain to you just yet. I'm just so happy to see you again, to be able to talk to you. Sis, I've wanted to be free for so long, to see you and Dad again, and--there's nothing wrong with me except the sniffles."
It welled up in her like a wave and the tears flooded her lower lids, and then one overflowed and ran down the left side of her nose. "You see what you're doing," she said. And they laughed once more. "To see you again, Jon is so ... _fine_."
"I love you, Sis," Jon said. "Thanks, and so long for a little while."
"I'll get your message out. So long." The phone blinked dark and she sat there wondering if perhaps the tension wasn't too much. But it wasn't, and she had messages to deliver.
During the next couple of hours, two people died, miles apart.
"Don't be silly," Rara was saying in the inn at the Devil's Pot. "I'm a perfectly good nurse. Do you want to see my license?"
The white-haired old man sat very straight in his chair by the window. Blue seeped like liquid across the glass. "Why did I do it?" he said. "It was wrong. I--I love my country."
Rara pulled the blanket from the back of the chair and tucked it around the stiff, trembling shoulders. "What are you talking about?" she said, but the birthmark over her face showed deep purple with worry.
He shook the blanket off and flung his hand across the table where the news directive lay.
CROWN PRINCE KIDNAPED! KING DECLARES WAR!
The trembling in Geryn's shoulders became violent shaking.
"Sit down," Rara repeated. "Sit down. You're not well. Now sit down!"
Geryn lowered himself stiffly to the chair. He turned to Rara. "Did I start a war? I tried to stop it. That was all I wanted. Would it have happened if ..."
"Sit back," Rara said. "If you're going to talk to somebody, talk to me. I can answer you. Geryn, you didn't start the war."
Geryn suddenly rose once more, staggered forward, slammed his hands on the table and began to cough.
"For pity's sake," Rara cried, trying to move the old man back into his chair, "will you sit down and relax! You're not well! You're not well at all!" From above the house came the faint beat of helicopter blades.