“Yo! Coffee?” Paulie took one look at them and ducked back into the kitchenette.

“Come in. Sit down. Then tell me everything,” Miriam ordered.

They came in, stripping off outdoor coats: Olga had acquired a formal-looking suit from somewhere, which contrasted oddly with her arm in a sling. She shivered slightly. “How strange,” she remarked, looking round.

“Charming: quaint! What’s that?”

“A fax machine. Everything feeling strange?” Miriam looked at her sympathetically. “I know that sensation—been having it a lot, lately.”

“No, it’s how familiar it feels! I’ve been seeing it on after-dinner entertainments for so long, but it’s not the same as being here.”

“Some of those tapes are quite old,” Miriam remarked. “Fashions change very fast over here.”

“Well.” Olga attempted a shrug, then winced. “Oh, coffee.” She accepted the offered mug without thanks. Paulie cast her a black look.

“Uh, Olga.” Miriam caught her eye.

“What?”

“This is Paulette. She’s my business manager and partner on this side.”

“Oh!” Olga stood up. “Please, I’m so sorry! I thought you were—”

“There aren’t any servants here,” Brill explained patiently.

“Oh, but I was so rude! I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay,” said Paulette. She glanced at Miriam. “Is this going to happen every time? It could get old fast.”

“I hope not.” Miriam pulled a face. “Okay, Olga. What did Uncle A have to say for himself?”

“He came to visit me shortly after you left. I’d had time to think on your explanations, and they made uncommon sense. So much sense, in truth, that I passed them on to him in a most forthright manner.”

Brill cracked up.

“Care to share the joke?” Miriam asked carefully.

“Oh, it was mirthful!” Brill managed to catch her breath for a moment before the giggles came back. “She told him, she told—”

Olga kept her face carefully neutral. “I pointed out that my schooling was incomplete, and that I had been due to spend some time here in any case.”

“She pointed out—”

“Uh.” Miriam stared at Olga. “Did she by any chance have something pointed to do the pointing out with?”

“There was no need, he took the message,” Olga explained calmly.

“He also said that desperate times required desperate measures, and your success was to be prayed for by want of avoiding—” she glanced at Paulette—“the resumption of factional disputes.”

“Civil war, you mean. Okay.” Miriam nodded. “How long have you been out of the hospital?”

“But Miriam, this was today,” said Brilliana.

“Oh,” she said, hollowly. “I think I’m losing the plot.” She rubbed her forehead. “Too many balls in the air, and some of them are on fire.” She looked around at her audience; Paulie was watching them in fascination.

“Olga, did you keep the locket you took from the gunman?”

“Yes.” Olga looked uncertain.