Older memories drifted into the Barrister's consciousness as he sat in the silence of the study. Their voices rose out of the buzzing din of the inn that evening long past, stirring in his memory. Lucien sat up in the chair, setting the cup aside, his gaze narrowing with renewed inspection of the worn seam of the carpet. They had been speaking of another, but his own words voiced to the Baroness echoed true again.

It is a tapestry. Our lives. Each of us a thread of seemingly gossamer silk, interwoven, connected with one another. All of it coming together to form a large picture. And even when a portion unravels, even just a little, it impacts the larger image.

And in that tapestry...some threads end. If they continue they distort the picture as much as threads that unravel...Sylvia had countered quietly.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, maintaining his intent scrutiny of the ornate flooring over his folded hands. Gaze drifted over the interlaced patterns, following one line then another across the floor. He shook his head with a muttered rebuttal spoken into the blanketing hush, "All threads, even those at the end are tied, woven together."

Abruptly he rose to his feet and rushed out of the study and into his office. He moved to his desk and began deliberately ransacking the drawers. Driven searching escalated with his pulling the drawers out altogether and dumping the contents unceremoniously onto his desk. Papers, quills, stationary, seals and other items went crashing onto, then off the desk.

The ruckus brought Gwyr from his room and he stood at the door, watching the Barrister in the midst of chaos strewn desk. "I'm looking for that...that...." Lucien waved his hand above his head, drawing a circle with a finger, without sparing a glance up from the clutter items to his faithful manservant. Gwyr moved quietly into the office. He reached down and plucked a small golden item from the strewn disarray and held out the charm to the Lucien, stopping the man's frenetic search.

*******

The next morning, a sealed package was delivered to Rhys at the warehouse addressed to the Yran Rose.

A small gold charm in the shape of a wheel with eight spokes, a triangular green felt cap with a white feather, a thick braided rope (addressed to 'Lucky'), among a few other items accompanied the letter written in the Barrister's hand.

Dear Sylvia,

I hope this letter finds you and the children well. Imagine my surprise when I learned that my name was given to another. Imagine my amusement when I learned the other had four legs and a tail. If he is true to his moniker, I trust he will be full of mischief.

It would serve you right, my dear Sister for abandoning your kin here on these shores and taking your leave. And yet, across the distance, I can already hear your protestations and witty rebuttal. You always argued spiritedly with me. Of course as the beneficent elder brother, I let you win a few arguments. Just a few, mind you.

Taunts and jests aside, though,... I am sorry.

I miss our discussions. Heated as some of them were. I recall one particular conversation we had over tea and scotch at the inn. You had mentioned that I was a lucky charm. I countered that you would need a lucky charm with a brother like myself. It is with that memory I send you a lucky charm.

I was told in a far away culture, barristers would wear the symbol of the wheel before they stepped into the courtroom and many believed that they could not win a case without it. It was given to me years ago by a friend who, I believe hoped that it would steer me back on the proper course. Perhaps it will help you find your way back.

The gossamer threads of the unfinished tapestry will be held until you return to continue the weaving.

And besides that, you can't get out of adventuring with the great Peter Pan that easily!

Lucien