There were not to be messages that day. Sylvia had originally left instructions of her return to be only two days from her departure. There was no sense in pressing a messenger on through the portal for such a brief stay.

Last night's tour of the city and brief encounters that planted seeds of worry had changed those plans. One more day to remain and hopefully do some good while she was there. It meant her day was free of any true plans. She was as close as she ever got to being just herself.

The highback chair comforted her, holding her in its secure and soft support. She expected company that afternoon, even told her children of it, but not right then. At that moment it was her, the warm sight and smell of a well tended fire in the fireplace, and the silence of an empty home.

Gwen had taken the children out in the back to help picking fruit in the orchard. Guards and recruits practiced in the field. The view beyond the parlor window captured the anticipation of autumn as the trees sprinkled orange and yellow among the green leaves. Grass shivered beneath the cold caress of northern winds. The past whispered on those winds, setting the fire in the fireplace to sputtering.

It was the memories, dark and light, mixed with hurts, regrets, hopes, and triumphs that made a very strong point. She was a visitor to this world now as she once had been over ten years ago. Her hands ran over the cloth of the chair, anxious to have it remind her that she was as much home here as anywhere. Over and over along its woven pattern, the worn places, the effect of living upon its threads, she searched for that comfort.

The memories spoke of home - a past one, one solitary and shared alike. Memories that were driven away by the sound of a door, the wild call of cheerful voices and exclamations of cold noses and successful harvests. The wild run of footsteps came to the parlor and three bright faces crowded around her, pushing away doubts and anxieties of her choices once more. Beata shoved a red ripe apple at her. "Apple!"

Sylvia moved out of the doorway to give Lucien leave to enter. ?You are always welcome. How does the day find you??

He placed a light hand upon Beata's head and smiled. ?That is a very lovely apple, M'Lady.? He then leaned in to brush a kiss upon Sylvia's cheek as stepped past her. ?Okay. How are you this fine day??

After exchanging the kiss to his cheek, she lifted up Beata. ?The same.? A smile to Bea, she nodded. ?Give a kiss.? Beata squished up her lips and leaned outward from her mother to give a wobbly sort of kiss to her Uncle.

Lucien leaned in to receive his gift. Rewarded with a kiss from the little girl, a warmth colored he smile. He brushed a kiss upon her rosy cheek in turn. ?Thank you.? A nod was given for Sylvia to lead on. ?Where is Cian??

An apologetic frown, her brow wrinkled a little as she set Beata down to walk with them. ?I think he is in the parlor.? The distance was not far, just a turn left from the foyer where Sylvia closed the front door, to the first door on the left. But when Sylvia entered, he was not there.

?Please, have a seat. I will go find him. Probably went to the kitchen where the preparation of the apples will soon begin. You are going to have a very apple smelling visit, I'm afraid.? It was a soft laugh. ?Would you like something to drink??

He gave Sylvia a reassuring nod. ?Don't trouble the young Baron. I am sure he has his reasons.? Then he went scooped up Beata into his arms, his smile returning once more. ?I can think of few better smelling visits I would rather have.? He gave her a light shake of his head at her offer for a drink. ?No, thank you. I am fine.?

It may not trouble Lucien, but it troubled her Cian's change in perception. ?Well, then have a seat, and perhaps provide me with some more details to the succinct report of happenings the other night. Put so cryptically it certainly sounded like a normal week in Rhydin, but I doubt it was that.? She did not worry if Beata stayed during the discussion, and the little girl looked to be quite happy to be held by Lucien. She showed him the apple repeatedly while switching from hand to hand, then rubbing it on his shoulder, trying to find a pocket to put it in and if successful, drawing it back out only to put it back in again.

He nodded to Sylvia then gave his full attention to the little girl in his arms. He spoke quietly to her as she rubbed the apple upon his shirt then stuffed it into his pocket and worked to get it back out again. In the meantime, he had set the bag on the ground by one of the chairs and walked around the room with the girl in his arms.

Sylvia sat in the wingback chair, curling one leg beneath her, quite improper, but very much herself. She waited in silence, tucking back black hair behind her ears, intent upon Lucien, half paying attention to Beata to be sure she did not inadvertently harm the man. The little girl was not used to being careful where she stepped or how she swung her legs when being held; she was so rarely held by a man.

He turned his attention to Sylvia and grinned lightly. ?They were no more than typical occurrences in Rhydin. The Egyptian slaver, Anubis was the one that received the male appendage from his wife Dawn, who was quite upset he had an affair with Tara.? He began recounting the events in a little more detail, keeping his tone light for Beata's sake. The little girl may not understand all of the nuances of matters, but he figured she would understand the tone of his voice.

?Oh my.? It was hard not to find some humor in it, Tara's adventures and mishaps quite frequently of her own doing; some sympathy for the situation however was woven into a smile that held firmly in check a chuckle wanting to break free.

He gave the girl a kiss upon her brow and then gently set her down on her feet. He took up a seat by Sylvia, careful not to reach for his side as he did so, instead grinning. ?Yes. Exactly. It was...quite the scene.

?So, then, we have covered the affair, the exchange of blows..,? a tap to her lips, she looked to him. ?Anything else to share? I have absolutely no news. Things go well in Yransea, a good harvest, some stability in our corner of the kingdom. I am the very model of lackluster news.?

Lucien slipped his hands into his pockets and stepped around from behind the chair. ?Well, I'm glad to hear that things are quiet in Yransea. You and the rest of the citizenry deserve it.

?Aidan and Beata are growing, confident and assertive of their opinions.? A crooked grin was sent her way. ?I'm glad to see that.?

?Hmm, so they are. I am at a loss exactly to just what is normal sibling behavior at this stage. Sometimes still I miss Kieran. He was supposed to be helping me learn these things.? It was an empty frown, no true bitterness. She had finally accepted it in her heart. ?But they are for the most part a happy little warband, and are quick to stand up for each other.?

He didn't take a seat, instead paced around the room slowly. ?I'm sorry.? He offered in a murmured hush at her confession with regard to the Baron as he continued to move.

Sylvia watched him move from behind the chair, a place of defense, to in front, but mostly she worried that he moved so much, as if troubled by sitting still. ?Something more is bothering you, Lucien.? She had hoped he would bring up the topic of the earring on his own, but as he had not, she did so herself. ?You've yet to tell me about the earring. Had you hoped I'd forgotten??

He stopped when Sylvia brought up the earring.

At his stopping, she rose to close the distance, she stood with her feet apart, a natural stance to take on the weight of others, either by blow or carrying. ?What is it??

Letting out a breath, as deep a breath as his healing ribs would allow without a twinge of pain, he shook his head at Sylvia's query. ?It was stolen...taken right out of my ear as I slept. I had a strong suspicion as to who it was, but I don't know where to find her nor why she did it.? He shook his head once more. ?Alysia had given me that earring.?

?What? Why would anyone...?? More so, how had anyone, but there were only so many questions that could get out of her mouth with her breath stolen away and the grip of anger on his behalf, she had recalled well the source of the earring and its significance. It had been a part of Lucien since early in their meeting. ?You cannot find her? Her?? The anger got a surge, painting heat in her features, indignant on his behalf.

He nodded, moving once more, the restlessness stirring him to action again. ?Rebekah.? He breathed her name. ? Rebekah bint Tariq al Isharq.?

The name meant nothing to her, so she waited in silence, the apple set aside having been abused enough by her gripping it and showing the indentations. She hoped he would offer more.

?It had to have been her. All the signs point to her.? He shook his head once more. ?Then to add insult to injury, someone went and stole the horses and carriage right out of my stables. They took everything. Everything....even the shovel. I don't know how they got past the wards.?

That was more than worrying. It brought threats to his safety as an increased likelihood instead of the stretched possibilities. But what more was the why, and even though he had said he did not know why, the word still slipped out from her mouth. ?Why??

He turned around and threw his arms up in the air. ?I don't know why? I don't understand any of it.?

?Yes, of course.? All the world knew his influence in prominent members of society's lives; it could be for any reason. ?Who is this Rebekah? Why do you think she took the earring??

He ran a hand over his face and tugged at his beard as been his wont of late. All the while he continued to move around the room, unable to sit still. ?Rebekah is a friend. We've known each other for years. You might recognize her if you saw her. She used to frequent the inn often. Then....she disappeared for a while. Now she's back. She came over to the house a night before...,? he drew a deep breath. ?She came over the house and we talked for a while. She said she had been hiding, but she didn't ever say where. I am pretty certain it is her, because of what was stolen. She not only took my earring, she took a few shirts and my violin. She also wrote something about Gwyr on my bathroom mirror. There were also a few bottles of liquor that was taken...something I know she enjoys drinking...in fact, she had given me the case of it.?

She leaned against the edge of the desk, arms folding across her chest, hands clenched in fists. ?Your violin? Shirts? Quite the collector. Outside the violin, what use would shirts be?? An echoing question in her mind, what use would a shovel be? ?And you say the earring was taken while you were sleeping?? Slender raven wing brows rose.

?It had to have been.? He reasoned. ?I don't ever take it out. And that night, I had been at the inn late, waiting up with Rekah. I came home, went right up to my room and just fell asleep on my bed. Didn't even take the effort to change. Next morning, Gwyr tells me I am not wearing my earring.? He ran another hand over his face as he continued to pace around the room. At the rate he was going, he was going to wear a rut in the flooring.

?Wait,? a hand shot up, palm out, ?if it happened after a late night of drinking,? her own assumption, ?how do you know it was her? You have wards, or is she welcome beyond those? What reason would a friend of yours want to do this to you? I'm sorry, but I must be missing something.? Counting off the points by lowering fingers one at a time. ?Old friend visits, you talk, stuff goes missing while you doze, and then items go missing from your stables? It seems to me if theft is to be laid at the doorstep of one, the others are likely from the same source. I doubt you suddenly have a battle going on with a thief guild, though it might not hurt to speak with Phen Ilnaren about that.?

?I don't know, Sylvia. I don't know. I don't know how she got into my house past the wards. I don't know who would spray soapy foam on my mirror and write 'Gwyr is a big fat poofter' in it. I don't know how someone got into the stables. And if it was her, how she got into the stables. I don't know why?...why my shirts and shorts were taken. Why a pair of my boots were taken, but not any of the silverware or the items of monetary value in the house. None of the rare books were taken. Nothing.? The words just spilled out in one long ranting stream fueled by frustration and emotion.

?Come now, master barrister, would you not say this was personal? Very personal. Particularly the violin and the earring. Perhaps it is time you take your security a little more seriously and start relying on the senses of flesh and blood people and not the cryptic possibilities of magic alone.? A slight nod back to the window behind her. She meant to indicate where her guards stood at a gate that few approached.