Reborn: Far Land Trilogy #3: Far Land Trilogy, #3

By G. David Walker

Previously published as "Soul of Power, Jaben's Rift: Book Three" by G. David Walker

From a far land, Jaben shall come…

The Altered have withdrawn. With Nyala's and Nivek's support, Jason and the Circle appear to have the upper hand, at least for the moment. They know, however, that this is just the calm before the final storm. None of them have forgotten Nyala's warning: They will face Regor again.
But now, an enemy they thought defeated has returned with unimaginable power, more determined than ever to destroy the Circle. In the face of this renewed threat, the Loremasters will have to rely on help from unlikely sources, and be tested in ways that will have them questioning the very tenets of their service to Teleria.
In spite of the Circle and their Altered allies, the future of Teleria still lies squarely upon Jason Bennett's shoulders. It's time for Taleth's prophecy to be fulfilled, once and for all. Jason must find a way to become stronger than he ever thought possible. But in order to become what he must, he may have to sacrifice everything he is, and even that may not be enough.
Dark clouds are gathering, and the final confrontation looms on the horizon. The end game is about to begin, with the world of Teleria as the ultimate prize.

Only one thing is certain: Teleria will never be the same again.

• Language: English
• Publisher: G. David Walker
• Release date: Feb 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005866891

G. David Walker

From an undisclosed source who prefers to remain anonymous: G. David Walker was unexpectedly born in the summer of 1963, the obvious result of alien visitation, as his mother had been told she was unable to have any more children a decade prior to his arrival. This conclusion was only reinforced by David's obsession with Star Trek and The Monkees, nights spent staring at the stars overhead, and uncountable hours reading science fiction and fantasy while other children were outside playing tag and running into trees. (Actually, it was David who ran into the tree, but that's another story.) Fortunately, David outgrew these tendencies… Well, no. No, he didn't He is still obsessed with Star Trek (and Star Gate, Star Wars, Jefferson Starship, star fruit, Dancing with the Stars, wait, what? Scratch that last one.), still enjoys staring into the night sky, and still reads science fiction and fantasy books and stories at every opportunity. Happily, we can report that there have been no reported incidents of him running into any trees lately (at least none that we're aware of). When he's not trying to avoid trees, David writes fantasy and science fiction novels and stories, some of which may or may not be based upon odd memories...err...thoughts that pop up at irregular intervals throughout his day. David is a member of the Missouri Writers Guild, and currently lives in southwest Missouri with his wife and children, and whatever stray animals his children happen to bring home.

Book preview

REBORN

Far Land Trilogy #3

G. David Walker

Copyright © 2015 by G. David Walker

All rights reserved

Cover art by MiblArt

miblart.com

Dedicated to you, the reader, who has accompanied Jason upon his journey.

You honor me with your dedication to Jason and his story.

Thank you.

Every day, every moment, is another step on the journey.

Find out more about G. David Walker and his upcoming projects at

http://www.gdavidwalker.com

Contents

Prologue

Planning Ahead

New Places, Old Faces

Scouting the Territory

Minor Adjustments

Ishadon

Impossibilities

Changing Things Up

Reliving the Past

The Nasaiken

The Price of Peace

Bad News Travels Fast

Puppeteer

Painful Memories

Along Came a Spider

A Dubious Proposition

High Noon

Last Hope

Message in a Portal

Goodbyes and Hellos

One More Time

Setting the Record Straight

The New Teleria

Appendix

Taleth’s Prophecy

From a far land, Jaben shall come.

The last to arrive, he will already be here.

Powerful and powerless,

Our hope and our doom are in his hands.

His destruction is our hope.

His denial is our doom.

For our land to live, the far land must die.

Prologue

Bret moved his hand slowly along the top of the small chest, using his power to smooth the rough spots and bring the wood to a high luster. He had worked long and hard to get the chola wood he was using, and every part of it had to be absolutely perfect. This was to be his finest work yet. The wood’s deep blue color was a perfect match for his daughter’s eyes, and he was eager to see the look in those eyes when he presented this gift to her. Riya would be leaving for Lore’s Haven tomorrow, to begin her time with the Amber Order. A smile crossed his lips as he thought of her studying under Loremaster Jarril, just as he had when he was with the Order.

It had taken him six years of headaches and sweat under Master Perys to make saiken cha, and then, in an apparent fit of madness, he decided to continue his studies by joining the Amber Order in the hopes of becoming saiken lo. He would never understand what had come over him to make such a choice. Master Perys had expressed doubts on more than one occasion about Bret even attaining saiken cha. Bret wondered sometimes if he had decided to join Amber more to prove himself to Perys than out of desire for the title of saiken lo.

Loremaster Jarril had been firm and demanding, but as long as he felt a student was trying his or her best, the Loremaster’s patience was unending. He surely had to be patient with me, Bret thought with a wry grin. He had actually considered giving up on more than one occasion, but Jarril’s encouragement kept him going. After years of hard work and study, the day finally came when Jarril declared him saiken lo.

And now Riya would be following in his steps, after attaining saiken cha in half the time it had taken him. I wonder if Jarril will remember me. He hoped so. Well, at least the good parts. There were some stories of his days with Amber that Riya really did not need to hear. Of course, those are the most interesting ones, he thought with another smile. Maybe he would tell her someday…many, many years from now.

He picked up the chest and turned it, examining it from every angle, frowning as a rough patch interrupted the silky flow of light across the surface. With a delicate touch of power, he lightly ran his fingers back and forth over the spot until it matched the gloss of the surrounding wood. When the rest of his inspection revealed no further flaws, he nodded in satisfaction and turned to place it on the table.

His body went rigid as a presence entered his mind. The chest slipped from his fingers, teetered on the edge of the table for a long moment, and then fell to the ground, the impact splitting the smooth wood. He felt a pang of sorrow as he heard the crash, but then it was gone, pushed aside by an imperative that refused to be ignored. An image filled his thoughts. Without a glance at the wreckage of the chest, he walked outside and opened a portal to the place he had seen in his mind.

Through the opening, he saw a barren, hostile landscape with tortured clouds rolling overhead. The Riftlands. He had never actually seen the Riftlands, but the massive distortions dotting the landscape left no doubt. He could see that the portal opened at the edge of a large sandy depression in the ground. At the base of the pit, several large tentacles moved underneath the sand, breaking through occasionally to sweep over the loose surface. In the back of his mind, a faint voice, like an echo of a whisper, cried at him to stop, pleaded with him to close the portal. He vaguely recognized the voice as his own. He knew, just by looking at what awaited him in the pit, if he went through the portal he would not survive, but that knowledge did nothing to prevent his body from taking action. Any resistance he tried to offer was immediately overwhelmed and swept aside. He stepped through, into the yawning pit. An immense sense of satisfaction from the unseen force filled him. Somehow, he knew the sensation did not come from the creature, but from something much larger, more malevolent. The knowledge did nothing to comfort him. His body did not flinch when the massive tentacles wrapped around him even as his own distant screams filled his thoughts.

Just before the sand covered his head, the controlling presence left him, but by then it was too late. Sand pouring into his mouth choked off any cry for help. The last thought he had was of his daughter’s dark blue eyes.

Planning Ahead

Jason, wake up. His mother’s voice intruded on Jason’s slumber.

Okay, okay, he mumbled, trying to bury his face deeper into the pillow. Just five more minutes, Mom.

Honey, you’re going to be late for school. Now let’s go. It’s time to get up.

C’mon, Mom, I’m tired, Jason protested. Then it hit him. Mom? It was his mother trying to wake him up? Had it all been a dream?

He snapped upright, throwing the covers back and glancing around wildly, looking for his mother. His shoulders sagged as he saw the familiar stone walls of his room in Lore’s Haven. It had been a dream all right, just not the one he was hoping for.

He pulled his feet out from underneath the blanket, and sat on the side of the bed as he rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off his disappointment. It had been almost two weeks—sixdays, he reminded himself—since his last dream about waking up at home. He’d thought they were done. Must be all this stuff with the Altered. He flopped back on the bed and closed his eyes, holding on to the fading memories of his mother’s voice as long as he could.

"Jason? Are you well?"

Crin. Yeah, I’m fine, he sent to the bird. Just woke up again thinking I was at home.

"I thought those dreams were over."

So did I. He didn’t really feel like talking about it, not even with Crin. How’s everything looking out there? Anything going on?

"No, nothing. The sparkling one and the other are nearby, but that is all." Crin had been using his ability to sense the Altered to make sure no one caught them off guard. Although he always called Nyala the sparkling one, Nivek he only called the other. Almost as if he couldn’t come up with a way to describe an Altered that constantly changed his appearance.

Okay. Let me know if anything changes.

"You know I will." The bird almost sounded indignant, but the dream was too fresh for Jason to give it much thought. He hoped Crin understood. He usually did.

He ran over the last few days in his mind. Three Altered had lost their powers. Well, two had lost their powers. The other one was just…gone. The sound of Haras’ scream escalating beyond what a normal human voice could do still rang in his memories. At the time, he thought he’d been working with Nyala. Only later, when they faced Regor, had he found out he and Seryn had actually been helping Airam in disguise. He couldn’t keep from wondering if the real Nyala would have done the same thing. When he’d told her what they had done, and what had happened to Haras, all she’d said was, You did what you had to do. But she had looked troubled. He wondered if what Airam had told him about the tensions between Nyala and Haras had been true. Then again, even if it had been a lie, it was too late to do anything about it now.

Lenai had also been more withdrawn since they’d returned to Lore’s Haven. Not in the same way as when they’d first met, but she was very quiet when they were together. She would respond when he spoke to her or asked a question, but it seemed like something was constantly on her mind. When he asked about it, she told him it was nothing to worry about, but didn’t offer anything more. Even though he could sense something was bothering her through the bond they shared, he didn’t want to pressure her. After all, they’d all been through a lot lately, her probably more than the rest of them. Besides being captured and used by Regor, finding out it was her own brother who betrayed her had to be pretty upsetting. He would let her bring it up if she wanted to talk about it, but he wasn’t about to go there first.

His thoughts turned to Reyga. He wondered where the Loremaster was and if he was okay. The High One had explained Reyga’s situation to him, after instructing Jason not to reveal the information to anyone, not even his dad or Lenai. He couldn’t imagine what he would do under the same circumstances. Reyga was the closest thing Jason had to a friend here, not counting Lenai and Crin. He’d stood behind Jason since the beginning. The thought of him struggling alone against whatever Regor had done to him didn’t sit well with Jason. They didn’t even know where he was. Jason had sent Crin to check on him again, but when the fortunewing returned, he’d said the Loremaster wasn’t at his home any more. No one else had heard from him since he’d left the Grithor chasm.

And if that wasn’t enough, Regor and Airam were still out there somewhere. He didn’t know about Airam, but he was sure Regor would be plotting some way to get back at them, especially Jason, for tricking him into giving Lenai back.

Jason had been serious about exchanging himself for Lenai, but Nyala had other ideas. She’d snatched Jason and Lenai almost literally out of Regor’s hands, and then, using borrowed power from Jason, had held off both Regor and Airam at the same time. Saying Regor had been mad would be like calling the Mississippi a big creek. They would definitely have to deal with him sooner or later, but since they had no way of knowing where or when that would be, all they could do for the time being was wait and try to be ready. The tension was high throughout the keep, and didn’t show any signs of easing any time soon.

He wished he could talk with his dad, but his dad was staying in Gildenfell with some friends. As long as Regor and Airam didn’t know about his dad or where he was, he would be safe. At least I hope he’ll be safe. Jason couldn’t risk going to see him for fear of the Altered finding out. Having his dad fall into their hands would be even worse than Lenai. For now, he had to stay away.

A rumble in his gut reminded him that he hadn’t eaten since the night before. Time for breakfast. He grabbed his tunic off the back of the chair and pulled it over his head. As he took a step toward the door, he had a sudden feeling he was being watched. A sensation like ice cold fingers crawled up the back of his neck. He spun around, dimsai erupting around his hands, but there was no one behind him. He looked all around the room, although there really wasn’t anyplace for an intruder to hide.

Or was there?

He concentrated on using his aura vision, an ability that allowed him to see the dimsai auras of others. According to Reyga, no one else had ever been able to do this. Jason didn’t know why he could, but it had proven useful on more than one occasion, so he didn’t question it. He checked the room again, this time looking for any disembodied auras, keeping his power at the ready. A quick examination revealed no auras, although the room now appeared to be filled with a thin fog. He’d never seen anything like it before. The fog hadn’t been visible to his regular eyesight.

The sound of the wind picked up outside. He moved to the window and looked out. The branches of the trees whipped back and forth in the sudden rush. There were no clouds in the sky that he could see, but the pale fog seemed to envelope Lore’s Haven and the forest below. The wind hissed through the leaves, changing pitch as it rose and fell. J-a-a-a-s-s-o-o-n-n-n. He started as he heard the wind whisper his name. He listened more closely, but the sound didn’t repeat. It must have been my imagination. Get a grip, dude. He gave a small shake of his head. The last few days had him jumping at shadows. That had to be it.

As suddenly as it began, the wind died down, and was once again nothing more than a light breeze. He frowned as the fog disappeared as well. Maybe it wasn’t just his nerves after all. The fact that the fog vanished at the same time the wind died down couldn’t be just coincidence. He would have to mention it to the High One when he saw him. He still wanted to talk to him about the nasaiken too, but he hadn’t been able to over the last couple of days. Considering that all they’d been doing was waiting, it seemed like everyone had been really busy. Maybe today he’d have a chance to bring it up.

With one last glance around the room, he walked out into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind him and heading for the dining hall.

*****

Reyga crept away from the stone he had just placed on the ground, holding one hand out in front of him palm up, another stone in his other hand. His eyes were focused on his palm as he set one foot carefully in front of the other. After seven or eight cautious steps, a murky green aura erupted around his fingers. He jerked his hand back and placed the stone on the ground at the point where his power had appeared. He found another stone and repeated the process in a different direction. After positioning a number of stones to form a rough border around his position, he lowered himself to the ground and sat down. He had followed this process numerous times over the past two days as he moved deeper into the Riftlands.

The relief he felt the first time he stumbled into a safe area, as he had come to call them, had been dizzying. The sudden clarity of his thoughts was enough to make him stagger like a man with too much ale in his belly. At first, all he could do was kneel on the ground and weep at the blessed absence of any voice in his head other than his own. The respite had been misleading, however. Thinking Regor’s power had been eliminated by the Riftlands, he began walking back the way he had come. He barely made fifty paces before he felt the familiar tickling in the back of his thoughts. He immediately reversed his course, and returned to the place where Regor’s influence had vanished.

Since then, he had been moving deeper into the Riftlands. He would try to relax whenever he found a safe area, and move on again after resting or if he saw predators approaching. He found he could extend his hand just outside the safe area to use his power to catch a piece of wood or shrub on fire, and also capture the small creatures that scurried about, or hid in the sandy patches. In this way, he was able to feed and warm himself as he traveled, although he tried to use his power as little as possible. He still remembered Lenara’s warning: …every time you use your power, it augments his. It had been slow going, and there had been a couple of times when he had found himself walking in the opposite direction without remembering having turned around. Only his footsteps in the sandy earth proved his direction. After the second such occurrence, he tried to move more quickly when he left a safe area, in order to find the next one before being overcome.

While he traveled, worries and questions circled in his mind. What were Jason, Nyala, and Seryn doing? What about the Circle? Were they well? Had they been able to rescue Lenai? How was Regor attacking Jason through the bond with Lenai? What would such use do to Lenai? All of these battled for his attention, but more and more, he found his thoughts going back to Lenara and her sudden reappearance in his life.

He still remembered the day he awoke to find her gone, as if it were yesterday. He and Lenara had been close. Close enough that he had been beginning to think of ways to ask her to be his lifemate. A few more days, and he might have. Then she vanished. They searched for her for a full span. Five long, painful sixdays that went from worry, to confusion, to despair, and finally to resignation that she was truly gone. The pain and emptiness her absence left had lasted many cycles, and he had never felt as close to anyone since.

When she opened the door, and he saw her face, all of the feelings he thought long gone had come flooding back, entangled with a rush of confusion, and perhaps a little fear that he was hallucinating. He understood now why she left, but he did not understand why she had never contacted him, never let him know she was well. He had thought her feelings for him echoed his own for her, but now, how could he be certain? She said she had been watching him. She had to have known how her disappearance would affect him. Was the part of him that destroyed her work really Regor’s fault? Or was it his own frustration that she had allowed him to believe she was dead all this time? The power came from Regor, of that there was no doubt. But the motive? The anger? Had that part been him?

He shook his head. No. If the anger was his, he would have remembered what happened. The fact that he blacked out, attacking her while under Regor’s influence, had to mean it was Regor’s fault and not his own, did it not? How could he possibly feel such rage toward someone who had been so very important to him? He searched the sky overhead, as if the answers to his questions were to be found in the churning clouds above, but nothing in them offered any assistance. He looked around, and then frowned as he saw that the vague shadows had shortened. The morning was moving apace. He had been here, lost in his thoughts, longer than he had intended. With a heavy sigh, he climbed to his feet. There would be time to ponder the questions later. For now, it was time to move on.

He scanned his surroundings, looking for a landmark he could use as a guide. In the distance, he saw a rock formation that vaguely resembled a raised fist. He brushed the sand and dirt from his robes and began walking.

*****

Lenai stared at the ceiling over her bed, barely noticing the flickering interaction of the light from the sconces at both ends of the room. I am a threat to Jason. It was an unsettling thought, one that had plagued her ever since her rescue. She could push it away from time to time, but as soon as she saw him, the words echoed through her mind again. She had always taken pride in being a valued asset in the defense of Lore’s Haven. She was a warrior. Her honor was everything to her. Now, she found herself a liability. One of the most precious gifts of her people, Chai na, the Bonding, had been turned into a weapon and used against her ch’nai. And as long as the Bond held, if Regor ever got her within his grasp again, it could be used against Jason.

Her hands curled into tight fists as she remembered how Regor had used his power to invade the Bond between them and attack Jason. Outrage at the violation of her body and spirit still burned within her, accompanied by a bitter knowledge that, as an Altered, Regor was almost certainly beyond her retribution. Her only hope was that Jason, aided by Nyala and Nivek, would find some way of dealing with the Shadow Lord and end the threat she posed before it could be exploited again.

She rolled onto her side and stared at the dagger resting on the small bedside table. The flickering light danced like glowing embers along the sharp blade. That was her other option. She had already decided; if no way could be found to defeat Regor, she would take her own life. Better that, than have Regor torture Jason through her again. The only thing preventing her from doing it now was uncertainty of how Jason would be affected by the breaking of the Bond in such a way. For Shanthi, the death of one in the Bond almost always led to the death of the other. Not in every instance, but enough that it was the expected outcome. Because of that, she considered this a last resort, even though she did not know how a human would react. It was possible that Jason would be well, but she was not willing to risk it. At least not yet. But, unless they could defeat Regor, she saw no other options.

Unless…

Her brother, Kelsu, now under guard in a cell in the lower levels of Lore’s Haven, had spoken of the Shadow Lord breaking the Bond between her and Jason. At the time, she had thought it nothing more than idle threats. Indeed, later on, Airam, disguised as Nyala, had admitted that the Bond was too strong for even an Altered to break. But Airam had deceived them into thinking she was Nyala; she could have lied to them about the Bond as well. To what end, Lenai could not even begin to guess. But what if the Bond could be broken without the death of either? Perhaps that was another possibility worth investigating. If she had the opportunity, she would ask Nyala about it.

Her thoughts turned to her brother. She picked up the charcoal sketch of her family from beside the dagger and stared at the lines shaping her brother’s face. Kelsu, how could you do this? Kelsu had led her and three other Shanthi into the Shadow Lord’s grasp. Two of the others, Naruk and Sura, childhood friends of both Lenai and Kelsu, were now dead, slain by Regor’s hand. The third, Vashni, had managed to escape after pretending to be dead. When her brother’s deception had first been revealed, Lenai had thought Regor was controlling Kelsu. Whether that was even possible, she did not know, but later, after speaking with him between Regor’s visits, she came to realize he believed everything he was saying. That he had become rishna kel both saddened and angered her. His actions brought dishonor not only upon himself, but also upon his family.

She wished she could speak with her father about Kelsu, but with their current situation, it would be too dangerous for her to go back to her telosh. She could not risk being taken by the Shadow Lord again. Vashni had said her father refused to believe Kelsu had done what they said, even accusing Vashni of being deceived when she told him that she had seen Kelsu’s betrayal with her own eyes. Maybe if they could find some way to safely break the Bond, or if they could find a way to deal with Regor, then she would go to her father and tell him the truth about Kelsu. Even then, with it coming from his own daughter, he still might not believe it.

A soft knock on her door interrupted her thoughts. She laid the sketch on her bed, and opened the door to find one of the Warders outside.

The High One has called a meeting after Firstmeal, he said.

With a nod to the man, she closed the door, and turned back to the bedside table. The knife still lay there, torchlight beckoning to her along the blade. She picked it up, lightly running her fingers along the sharp edge. Then she slid it into the sheath at her hip. It was an option.

But not yet.

*****

After Jason finished eating, he moved over to the table where the Circle was gathering while the Circle Chamber was undergoing repair, and took a seat. The table was at the far end of the hall, apart from the others. Gatlor was there already, standing behind one of the chairs. The warrior gave Jason a nod as he sat down. Some of the Loremasters, or those saiken filling in for the absent Loremasters, were still finishing their meals, so Jason passed the time letting his gaze wander around the room. A couple of minutes later, Lenai came in and sat beside him, but didn’t say anything, only offering him a faint smile. Eventually, everyone was seated, but Tal Vardyn, the High One of the Circle, still didn’t take his place. Instead, he turned to the assembled group. We will begin shortly. I am awaiting the arrival of some others.

As murmured conversations began around the table, Jason turned to Lenai. Any idea what this is about?

No.

He waited, but she didn’t offer anything more.

Well, the High One doesn’t look upset, so maybe it’s good news.

Perhaps.

He had to ask. Are you okay?

She nodded without looking at him. I need to speak with Nyala, she said.

Nyala? Why? Lenai, what’s going on?

Ah, here they are. The High One’s voice kept Lenai from answering Jason’s question.

He searched her face, hoping to get some glimmer of what she needed to ask the Altered, but her impassive expression offered no clues. The bond between them only told him something was bothering her, nothing more. Puzzled, he turned to look at the newcomers, and saw Seerka and Calador approaching their table.

We received your summons, High One, Seerka said. I am instructed to tell you the Ferrin stand ready to aid you if and when needed.

As do the Dokal, Calador added.

Tal inclined his head. The Circle has always been honored by the friendship and steadfastness of the Ferrin and Dokal. I hope, once this situation is resolved, you will relay our gratitude to your peoples.

Seerka took a seat. Calador, due to his size and bulk, and, Jason assumed, the fact that no chair close at hand could possibly support it, remained standing. Once they were settled, Tal turned to the gathering.

As most of you know, he began, Loremasters Delani, Brin, and Borin have yet to return from their mission to find Blood Iron for the staff shown in the ancient texts. However, the sketches show yet another component for the staff: a red diamond. I have asked Seerka and Calador to return because I believe we should move ahead with the search for this gemstone. We dare not waste time waiting for the Blood Iron. I would prefer to have all of the components available so that the Obsidian Order can begin crafting the staff at the earliest opportunity.

What do you propose, High One? Jarril asked. Meaning no offense, but surely it would not be wise to divide our strength yet further.

No, you are quite correct. And yet, we must have the red diamond in order to construct the staff. Each day without the staff is another day that the Shadow Lord and the Matron of Souls could return. We cannot wait for the Blood Iron to arrive before we even begin to search for the diamond. He turned to Gatlor. Therefore, Captain, I would like you and your team, along with Jason, to see if you can find it.

Jason opened his mouth to protest, but then closed it again. If they ran into Regor and Airam while they were gone, he wouldn’t be able to stand up to both of them. He would have to talk to the High One after this meeting was over. Maybe he’d already considered that possibility and had something in mind.

Gatlor stood. Forgive me, High One, as I have not had an opportunity to see the sketch of this staff, but is there any way of knowing where such a gemstone is to be found?

According to the notes, the only one known to exist is in an ancient city called Ishadon, on the other side of the Riftlands.

The Riftlands are extensive, Gatlor said. Do we have any idea as to the location of this city other than ‘the other side’ of the Riftlands? Without such knowledge, this could become a lengthy mission.

For the moment, no. Although I have searched the ancient texts thoroughly, they are hardly a complete record of Teleria before the Devastation. There is no mention of Ishadon other than on the sketches. Still, I would prefer not to delay. We will simply have to hope fortune smiles upon our efforts.

As you wish, High One, although I have always found that fortune smiles upon well-laid plans much more often than upon efforts with no clear direction.

Maybe Nyala knows where Ishadon is, Jason said. After all, the Altered were all human before the war. Anything to make this quicker and easier had to be a good thing.

Tal raised an eyebrow. Could you contact her and ask?