Packing up the artifact, Jolyon made sure it was on the shipping manifest, signed his name at the line, and then checked the vase once more. The crate was sturdy, and the straw and cloth were perfect protection for the bits and pieces from the dig along the coast of Rhydin. The spectre who lived there watched each item packed, completely undisturbed by the strong autumn breeze coming off the waters.

Jolyon found it curious at first, but reasoned that of course the spirit did not feel the wind, would not puff away like a fiber or the seeds of a dandelion. It was stretched between here and not here. There were things it would never feel again. Disdain and vanity were, however, still clearly present. ?Are you certain they will be well taken care of in your university? I do not want my things to go wandering only to be mocked by dimwitted foreigners.?

Warming his fingers in a brisk rub palm to palm, Jolyon nodded. ?I spent several months in the research, I have included our discussions in notes along with the work, and I have given your detailed instructions. My associates in Markland will take excellent care of the items, and you are very generous to allow my people the loan of them for the year before they return to Rhydin.? A little flattery had gone a long way with the spirit, who still refused to give his name, since the legal ramblings had been completed.

?Well,? the spirit sniffed and floated to the sea dune past the marshland, ?of course. Good day to your, Professor.? The spirit then did just fade away like steam from a hot cup.

?Good day, sir.? Jolyon sighed and shared a look with the shippers the university had sent. A shared smile and they lifted the crate to set into the protective metal box. Its lights and dials set for the chill trip through the gate back to Markland. A few locks and a reassuring shake to the box, it was set for the journey.

?Dr. Matthias Grient was particularly pleased, sir, with your contacting him. Wanted me to express that personally, though he has a letter here for you as well.? The shipping man took off a glove to pull the letter from his inner jacket pocket.

It was folded and sealed. Jolyon would read it later. ?Well, in the other case there are is a bottle of my wine, a gift to a friend. Personal delivery if you would be so kind, not part of the University work. Would you care for me to pay you now??

The shipper tutted and shook his head. ?Never you mind that, Dr. Gardiner, we are on that way, might as well take it with us. Barely take up any space at all on the gate dolly.?

?That is very kind of you. Thank you very much.? Jolyon smiled and helped move the last of the crates to the gate dolly and shook each shippers hand in turn. ?Have a good journey. Come spring, I hope to have more to send back.?

?Right you are, sir. Good day. Get back to your home, sir, and a warm meal, I hope. Harrowing sort of day. Storm looks to be brewing south.?

That it was, but Jolyon was feeling very good. Harvest had gone well, the wines were in their second barreling, and they were coming along beautifully. He had work done, work to do, and a wife who made his house feel like home every time he saw that wicked smile and glint to her eyes. Yes, he really wanted to get home. Hopping into the buggy, he did not even need to flick the reins for the horse was eager to get into her stable as well, and pulled off for the villa on the hill waiting for the coming storm.

Jolyon sat back in his chair behind his cluttered desk. The headache, once just a small flicker of annoyance, raced full blown behind his eyes. He pinched at his brow to counter the ache with other pain. At least he knew now. At least it was no longer a threatening rattle in the dark of the high grass.

The study door was closed. Life continued on past those doors. Jolyon closed his eyes and imagined Arcelia preparing the evening meal. Alistair climbing the slope of the grapevined hill with the pack of dogs panting in their lope around him. Serena in the herbary surveying the fragrant domain. There were bottles in the cellar waiting their turn as they went through their chemical magic to produce a fine wine. There was sun on the green leaves and the buds of next year's harvest fattening up limbs.

Still his mind twisted back to the letter in his hand outlining the artifacts that had traveled in plain view in the crates from his research digs or study to the offices of the University. Five items through five shipments not on the manifests. Five shards of pottery that he had once pieced together and left on his desk as a reminder to be cautious. Five slender, rune chiseled bits of earth mistaken by a new apprentice and sent along.

The inquiry had begun. His reputation and his profession strung out on display. Jolyon laughed, a bitter low bark of a laugh. Years now his profession had taken second place, he had given up his teaching position, he had stepped away from that world. Now that it was going to shake him off and stomp on him, he needed to keep that title, that part of who he was.

And yet he wondered if he really needed it. There was something in the back of his mind screaming at him in that headache to let it go. That world was done with him, and he needed none to tell him he was an archaeologist. There was no council or board of directors here to prod him into toeing the line.

But it was his history, and what was an archaeologist without his own history?

Befuddled. Jolyon was positively befuddled. He set aside his cap and coat upon the hooks at the doorway. The modest townhouse, once his own domicile while a professor at the University, was not but three streets over from his parents own more impressive home. Still, he was not sure Serena was back from visiting with his sister. He had, he must admit, thought it to be a longer meeting with the board than it was. "Serena?" He called as he walked to his small study just off the opening hallway. He was in desperate need of a glass of bourbon.

Pollen seemed to coat everything this time of year. Had Sam not been off on one of her many trips, she could have stocked Serena with a full supply of that amazing little purple potion of hers that kept the allergies at bay, but, unfortunately, Sam had not returned to RhyDin before they had left on this trip. Therefore, Serena had to suffer through the banality of allergies. A throbbing headache had brought her back early, and she had only been making it worse by frowning over the figures jotted down in a brown leather journal. Jolyon's voice was a welcome break and snapping the book shut, she wound a path towards the study. She didn't even have to put thought into where he would be.

At Serena's arrival he could see she was suffering from the attack of Spring's mighty splurge of pollen. It served well to break through his own bewilderment. Downing the small serving of bourbon, he reached a hand to her, and instead of assuming, simply asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Like skipping out on dinner plans?" There was a bit of hope to her voice as she allowed her free hand to be snagged, taking a step in towards him. Although said with a musical note of humor to her tone, if she was opting out of a social event, she must truly be feeling under the weather.

Taking her hand, he kissed the back of it. "Then let's stay in. The social circles can just sink it for a night." He looked her over a hand brushing a finger against her cheek, and then he released her hand and went to sit on the couch, rubbing at his temples as if that might put the puzzle pieces into place.

She knew the look and allowed a moment of silence as she skirted the edge of the room, sitting her journal down on the edge of his desk. Her hands clasped in front of her as she turned back towards him, leveling her brown eyes his way. "Are they done with you now? We can go home?" Laeyna's contempt had clearly bled over to Serena.

"You know..." he bit off the words about to come out of his mouth, and then he realized he really meant them. "I'm tempted to just leave it all." It hurt to say it, but for all that it was the truth. He looked at her, wondering if he would see in her eyes condemnation or disappointment. Think him a failure, or a coward. "They did not even let me defend myself against the accusations, and what's worse? They want to question you about," he flung his hand out as if grasping an answer not forthcoming, "I don't know."

Neither condemnation nor disappointment settled on her expression. Instead, it was something akin to sympathetic defiance. Yet, her bravado came crashing down as he continued. A quick step back caused her to bump lightly into the edge of his desk. "What? Me? They want to speak with me? Why?"

His own sympathy and anger rose up, and he winced. What a damn fool he was to announce it so glibly. Feeling the guilt of his error, he stood and went to her. "I'm sorry, I should have been less careless." Trying to rein in his own frustration, he paused to consider his words more carefully. "They are reviewing all my work and artifact transfers back a year ago, until around the time we are wed. They gave me no reason as to why they wanted to speak with you." Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed. "I am still trying to puzzle it out myself."

Were she not so hyper aware of who she was even after so much time, perhaps she too would have needed a second to puzzle it out. Instead, the overarching picture appeared to her immediately even if she did not know or understand all its pieces. "You have a rumored thief for a wife. Is it really that difficult to understand why they would want to speak to me?"

He frowned, about ready to take her to task as he would any who accused her of such things. Not that he wore rose colored glasses to her profession or the shadier sides of grey, but -- "What you do in Rhydin, in the chaotic ruination of any certain legal system is none of their business." But he knew with a sinking stone of guilt she was right. They questioned his ethics and wanted to know how far her influence upon him went. It was not to be borne. "Your business is not theirs. I have told them they cannot speak with you." He wanted to reassure her of that at least in this mess he had created.

A hand reached up restlessly to tuck a fallen lock of hair behind an ear. Panic welled up in her stomach, tossing and turning but her mask of indifference remained in place. Hiding her emotions was so engrained that she did it even when she wasn't trying. "I knew something like this would happen. Appearances are always what matters most." The con artist schooled him in one of her most basic tricks of the trade.

It was a great shift to the order of his world. He was not as good at hiding his emotions, particularly in seclusion with his wife. "Appearances be damned. They are using you to break me down. No doubt some asinine faulting of political maneuverings to take my family down a notch more. As you say, appearances. Around here, people actually give mind to such things."

A reach for both her hands, but he did not just take them. No, he reached for them like he reached for her guidance and thoughts on the matter. "What say you? Do I just leave it behind? Tell them to the ninth region with their accusations? We'll sell this house and just..." he wasn't sure just what as he looked over the study and felt no deeper pang of regret than packing the blasted books would be a nuisance.

Jail. Her fear always came back to that. As did her nightmares. Back to the cell. Back to Morana. To everything that followed. She battled them viciously, forcing them at bay. Her dark eyes briefly fluttered shut and when she opened them again, the defiance had returned. "No. You present me to them."

The cafe had the same smell and clatter as it did in his student days. A pungent mingle of tobacco, beer, coffee, and herbs rifled through the air. Jolyon and Matthias sat at a small round table near a back corner. It was there those of the faculty tended to gather; a part and yet separate from the busy social functions of the students.

At the week's end there was still no decision from the board, but Serena's reaction when she had left the room still haunted him. He turned the cup of tea about in small circles with his fingertips as it cooled. "What happened in the room with Serena?"

Matthias smirked, his mouth closed around the latest gulp of ale. "You remember Dr. Belline?" Jolyon did, and well at that. A favorite teacher if a damn sight perplexing. With a nod, Matthias continued. "remember how he would turn each question back on us? Pick a snippet of the question and tell a story related to but not answering anything he wanted us to hunt out for ourselves? Your wife could have taught him a lesson or two in the art. If I did not know you would not marry such a flighty person, I would have been swept up in her affectations myself."

Jolyon could well believe it. Diversion, conversation control, talents that had sometimes completely befuddled him in their first conversations were tools Serena could wield with the flair of a master craftsman. An infinite puzzle his Serena could be, and not for the first time since the talk that evening after her time with the board, he wondered if his meddling had tarnished, diminished -- saddened her irreparably.

The study where they sat felt heavy with the conversation. "I know that everyone can do what I do to one degree or another." Her brown eyes remained averted as she carefully picked and choose her words. Maybe it was because she wasn't looking at him but the words seemed more directed to herself than to him. "And, therefore, it's not inherently evil, right? Everyone uses what they know about human nature to get what they want. But... when he taught me what he did, we took it somewhere else. Before my lessons, I could read people's reactions and I could say what they wanted to hear to make them happy. After the lessons, I knew what they were thinking and I knew what to say to make them hand over their wallets. It morphed it something else. And as much as I want to separate myself from that, I can't seem to."

It was a concern not to be taken lightly or reacted to out of first thoughts or considerations. What struck him most was that once more, Serena wanted to separate herself from something that was a part of her. It cut him deeply, selfishly he thought, at how his life was in a way destroying the woman beside him. Was he some blustering, undying wind that ate away at a beautiful sandstone sculpture that would change so completely from its original form? He hoped not. "You want to change that, why?"

Her gaze cut back to him at the question. For a moment it had that hard, cutting edge to it as it always did when she was inspecting a subject. Yet, this time it was self-directed. "Because it's like a rot. A horrible temptation. I can be whomever I am wanted to be. I can lose myself in whatever role I wish to. I can have whatever I want. It's all right there... if I wish to be cruel enough. Someone always gets hurt."


"Jolly?" Matthias's frown twisted around into an uncertain smile. "Are you all right?"

A sip of tea, it tasted empty and bitter compared to the blends of Serena's he now favored. "Yes, fine. Serena and I will be returning to Rhydin. If the board needs more, they can seek me there. My wife is done with them, though. They invaded her privacy more than they should have already. And I am going to be looking into this myself. There's something not right here, my friend."

Matthias nodded, not even disagreeing. That told him much. But Jolyon could only picture Serena's face that night as she sat across from him and said, "Sometimes I fear love has left you criminally naive. You truly believe if there was something I wanted badly enough I would now take care in how I would proceed to getting it? You trust in me so much that you are going to leave your household open to whatever mischief I may bring into it should you be wrong? I went after you and I took you no matter who it hurt. There will be something I want someday."

And there was a spark in her eye that he had not seen since early in their meeting. Just a hint of that same glimmer. Perhaps there was something she already wanted. And Jolyon wondered if he was in the way.