“You don’t have to hint if you think I’m wasting your time, Tiph. I’ve read the report and Ignatius forwarded it to Dmwoski; it’s got all the facts but nothing more. What I want is the rest of it, all the details, how it felt at the time. I need to get what Mom calls the gestalt of the whole business. Also I have to know how much to tell Huon and Yseult. I’m not going to hide the essentials but there may be personal details they don’t need to know. They’re going to be here in a while, they’re fighting traffic on the rail line from Portland, but we’ll have time.”

Tiphaine sighed; the younger woman knew that talking about her own emotional states was something her Grand Constable didn’t like, as in would rather juggle live squid in a confessional booth. She also knew that likes and dislikes weren’t all that important to Tiphaine d’Ath when business was involved.

“Well,” Tiphaine said, letting her head fall back against the sofa and closing her eyes. “We finally managed to shake the CUT light cavalry off and consolidate around Hermiston, right on the old border we got after the Protector’s War.”

“Just a strip along the south bank of the river there, though.”

“Right, I spent my last day or so there securing the south flank with the CORA levies, who had all the organized cohesion of a bucket of snot. I left the rearguard there and headed back to Portland to get my finger on the pulse and start getting ready for the next enemy offensive because them getting Pendleton really screwed our position, especially south of the Columbia. Nothing between them and the Cascades except the CORA, barring Odell, though we had the castles along the river at the dams and bridges. The first thing I knew about what was going on was—”

TOWN RESIDENCE OF THE BARONS OF FOREST GROVE
878 SOUTHWEST GREEN AVENUE
SUBURBS, CROWN CITY OF PORTLAND
(FORMERLY PORTLAND, OREGON)
PORTLAND PROTECTIVE ASSOCIATION
HIGH KINGDOM OF MONTIVAL
(FORMERLY WESTERN NORTH AMERICA)
SEPTEMBER 21, CHANGE YEAR 23/2021 AD

Tiphaine d’Ath woke to the sound of a little bell tinkling, and made the hand on the hilt of the sheathed dagger under her pillow relax. It was a little dangerous to wake her up directly when she’d been in the field, though even unconscious she knew Delia’s touch. She could tell Delia was not in the bed, though. At seven months gone she was a significant weight, dipping even a really good pre-Change mattress like this one.