Corbel's announcement started an instantaneous furor among his guests. Cookie slapped Fuji on the back (nearly knocking his teeth out) and laughed uproariously. Voices clamored to be heard. The Dwarf stood up (or down) from his chair and began to reply at length to their host ticking off points on his fingers.

Slowly, however, the babble wound down. Finally, people began to realize that an expected voice was not heard. People began to realize that from one corner of the room, there was...silence. Corbel, initially pleased with himself, began himself to feel a growing unease. What? What? His visitors suddenly stopped talking and he placed it. The Saltans! Heads turned, one by one, feet stilled. Finally, there was no sound to be heard but the tick of the pendulum clock in it's case.

Then a chair rasped as it slowly, deliberately pushed back from the table.

Corbel looked the length of the room. A figure rose. Slowly. Unhurriedly. And began to walk towards him. Quietly. He began to feel a unexpected queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He realized suddenly: he had made a mistake! How?! How could he have possibly been so stupid?!

He watched the man dressed in black leather and chain armor rise. His sword was sheathed across his back Kanday-style. His thick black hair was greased back to a tail. His left hand rested casually on the pommel of a gem-studded, familial dagger. Corbel watched him walk and realized his error. He didn't swagger like a fighter. He didn't wallow like a cleric. He wasn't furtive like a thief. He didn't strut like a bravo. He walked. Slowly. Deliberately. Quietly.

Corbel recognized that walk of a sudden, now that no attempt was made to disguise it. The sick feeling in his stomach increased.

Corbel watched with growing unease as cold eyes walked towards him. He had erred! Damn! He had the high ground here! He had played The Game centuries before this whelp had sucked tit! But he had made an error. He knew it. How?

It must have been the clothes, he reflected. Or the smell. Or the hair. *How* could he have been so stupid? Well, there *was* there distraction of the Lady Krinn. The woman! Corbel darted a glance at the comely halfbreed. No!

His gaze returned to a wolfish grin and eyes alit with a chill twinkle.

He couldn't believe it! He must be getting old, he reflected, he must finally be getting old. The man's advance forced Corbel to consider the implications of each member of party as they were passed. As they were *claimed* by the man as he passed.

First his kinsman, the one with eyes old, too old, for one so young. Eyes that knew. The Kandayan. Noble. The Druid, young, but already powerful and growing more so. The woman. Storm cleric and all that implied. Elven blood and all *that* implied. And claimed by this man as his. By his walk. All the implied latency of Elvish plans as embodied in that union. Claimed and accepted as a matter of course. The Troll. He still couldn't believe that. And lastly, the *new* race, the *unknown* race, the Dwarf!

He had made a mistake and surely put his foot in it this time. Getting old, Corbel, your getting old, he self-admonished.

The lean, strong man with the wolfish grin and the arctic eyes had reached him. Looked down at him from a foot's distance. He repressed an unusual urge to step back. No question he had erred.

He had heard the man's story. Listened to him. He should have realized it then. The information he had been given would fairly guarantee the promotion of Bryant's status to that of a Great Hold in the next election. It *had* to be acted upon. Simply *couldn't* be passed up. And cold eyes knew that. Knew, that by simply *telling* him, Bryant Hold was maneuvered to help bring his enemies low. At no cost to himself. The cold eyes knew. He should have realized then.

The man had claimed to be on the run. In danger. He had simply accepted that at face value. It hadn't registered. *This* party, with *this* man, with *his* story just hadn't registered. He had listened to the information. Treated them as he would have treated any band of rootless freebooters. His mistake.

The noble Houses of Kethem, the Holds, were powerful entities. In another world and history, one would have likened them to the Families that had inhabited a very small, man-made island at the top of an insignificant sea. A small island called Venice. Whose leading Families, without land, without armies of their own, had influenced a world. Who with their trade treaties and their counting houses had moved kings and their kingdoms. With their influence and knowledge. With their plots. Those great Families which were seldom without tremendous resources, hidden against a rainy day. This man claimed his house had enemies (and which House did not?). This man claimed his House of late had been disadvantaged (and what House, from time to time, was not?). But whatever the appearance, whatever the claim, seldom was a Great House, less it were ground to dust and that very powder scattered to the four winds, without hidden resources.

And here, in alleged exile, with pursuing assassins, this man's walk, and it's implications, claimed this party. And all the implications embodied within *it*. On the run for his life, yet able to draw upon formidable resources like these. And the Knowledge he ventured. No, that had been his mistake, Corbel realized. He forgot that the Great Houses are seldom without resources. And neither was this man.

He watched as the Saltan produced a ring from a chain around his neck and fitted it to his right index finger. It was then that Corbel Haart realized that, as old as he may be, as experienced as he may be, as privileged as he may be, that this man was something he was not and could never be, although that was by his own choice. This man was a Gold Ring. This man was the heir to his House.

This man was a Prince.

Sid smiled down into the eyes of the old Silver Ring of Bryant's Hold. "Your watcher will be welcome. You'll be able to track us and send assistance should we disappear. Come, let us sit and draw the contract. Borgia Hold guarantees your expenses..."

Corbel nodded, the effervescent good humor sudden removed from his demeanor. "Of course, my Lord. I did not mean insult to yourself or your house, please believe me."

The Sid nodded and continued, pulling out the diary they had recovered at Valen's point. "This is a manuscript that I uncovered in the Borgia hold library a number of years ago. It's library card, as recorded by an ancient cousin, Lucretia Borgia, states it was a private purchase, sold as a Familial Curio, and is the personal ship's log of a Capt Zem Ural, the commander of a destroy-class warship. The captain was in the squadron sent to relieve Valen's Point in the massacre that started the Second War. Apparently, in the engagement the captain was severely wounded, the squadron was beaten back, and he died soon afterward. This log, together was his personal effects, were packaged to be sent to his family. In the confusion of the war, they were sold instead. There is no date on the library card. However, I found the box among old Borgia-Cheryfir trading records going back several hundred years that I was indexing as a training exercise. It had apparently been misfiled there for centuries as it's card in the main index file had been purged. Apparently, after it was misfiled, it was presumed lost.

Also in the box were an old medal of valor, and a dagger, a familial weapon. Both presumably the Captain's. All items are almost certainly genuine. The passage of interest is here. It states the amount of time it took the ship, at flank speed, to leave Bethelan Station and reach Valen's Point. By knowing the flank speed of this class of warship and subtracting the speed of the river current, we should have a good approximate location of the Station upon the River or a small tributary. Since no ruins of that name are known, either all it's surface traces were obliterated utterly, in which case it's subterranean components may survive, or it has remained shielded and hidden all these years, perhaps extradimensionally.

My thoughts on possible ways to locate it's exact location I will describe as we review the equipment list shortly..."

KRINN'S INTERLUDE

Krinn sat on the large, comfortable cushioned chair, feet tucked demurely under the sheer but comfortable red silk bathrobe Corbel had loaned her, and watched the fire as she took another sip of tea. What she really wanted was a drink.

Which was so startling unfair because it was so untrue. She did not want a drink. She did not. Corbel liked polite, ladylike, refined behavior... well, most of the time, that is... and she was, by definition, until she decided otherwise, what Corbel liked. Period. She found herself biting her lower lip, a sign of tension that Corbel would have noticed if he was in the Master Bedroom with her, forced herself to relax, and closed her eyes.

There was more to this schizophrenia stuff than she had been aware of, even though she had carried the seeds for many years. She thought back to Hotherial's training. "The secret, Krinn, is to remember that both personas exist, and to force them to compromise constantly. Sooner or later, there is an interface that will allow compromise and non aberrant behavior, but not direct contact, which is the critical part in hiding your thoughts. If you don't forge the interface, or make the persona too divergent, you delve into true schizophrenia. Make the persona too similar, they simply remerge. Do it correctly, and it will become second nature, occurring with as little thought as breathing.

She had picked someone nice, but more mischievous than herself, capable of throwing off the yoke of duty and responsibility that seemed to be a burden her mother had placed on her at an early age. It had worked, but not exactly; she could tell some of the angst she had for her situation had leaked in. Then, before the persona had really set, there had been her mothers death...

Which she didn't want to think about now. What she wanted to think about was what she had learned in the past five days of Corbel's hospitality. If these little distractions would stop interrupting. Like apologizing to El Sid last night for soaking him those last few days on the road and meaning it. Not only was it stupid to admit it, the man had more than deserved it. The Sid had been so surprised by her unexpected violation of their little tit-for-tat exchanges he hadn't even come up with a witty reply.

She had lived with these two people in her head for eight years. Why would things go sour now?

She sighed, opened her eyes again, took another sip of tea. Corbel, Corbel, she was thinking about Corbel. What had she figured out about him? Was he a powerful man? In some ways.

A snippet of conversation came back to her. They were lying in the bed, the canopy and veils casting dark flickering shadows and light from the fireplace, burning at a low intensity. "Bryant hold must be very powerful to own something like this house." Corbel had grinned at her. "My sweet, don't mistake position for power. A holder sometimes has the least power of anyone in the hold. Their moves are watched by everyone, they can never trust a word that comes to them. Even with friends, with other hold members, the holder knows that they would act and speak differently if they were not talking to the Lord Holder. Caught in such a matrix, the number of times a holder has no choice, but must merely execute the only path left him, occurs more often than not... and is invariably the case for the important decisions. For real power, Krinn, look behind the holder."

And a smaller one, who's meaning was not clear to her. "I arranged to lease the house for Bryant hold off of someone that would... not be needing it for a while." It was a twist to the story he had told them before, but he would not provide any other information on the former owner.

And another, when they had been taking about her travels and she had joked about needing a good teleportation spell. "Teleportation is no joke my dear. There are a lot of dangers associated with it unless you've done a lot of prep work." She, of course, new the essentials, including the location reference locking artifacts the elves had in places scattered around the Lanotalis sea (even if she didn't know exactly where they were), but for a human to be familiar with it... it implied a lot about his capabilities and knowledge.

And another, late one night when he had woken from a nightmare. "There is a better way, Krinn, I swear, there is. A way to provide enough food, enough clothes, enough of everything to stop the endless bickering between hold and hold, race and race. We've carried the torch for two hundred years, and we'll carry it two hundred more if we need to." He had fallen silent, and after a time, drifted off back to sleep.

What did it add up to? As a man, a pragmatic idealist, striving for high moral goals but aware that not all people play by the same rules. Almost fanatically devoted to the high moral ground, an attitude that would seem more in fitting with a twenty year old than a sixty or seventy year old. In great physical shape... she had seen a few fifty year olds with his kind of stamina, but not many. Definitely a lady's man, more susceptible to that particular Achilles heel than most men.

As a professional, a high level magic user, member of a group... a hidden group, or she would have known about it... formed two hundred years ago who liked to maneuver things from the background. He would have been good at Renala, the old elvish game with other races of causing major effects without any obvious indication that the elves had been the cause, even by the people that actually did the work.

A final piece of the puzzle came back to her. She had asked him how long he had been out here in the outback. It turned out he had left about nine months prior to their own sudden departure from Kethem. "Did you travel overland through Kanday?" she had asked, innocently, thinking he had journeyed from Telen.

"From Noru Castle?" he had replied in surprise.

Noru Castle. The Noru Castle that had stripped Arketh providence of it's masons for almost nine months as they tried desperately to rebuild it, one of the keystones in keeping Stangri raiders out of the Lanotalis sea. Rebuilding it because of a massive explosion that had taken out over half the castle, rumored to have been caused by experimentation with a STAM crystal that had been recovered from a ancient prefall weapons depot in Tawhiem. There was more to it... maneuvering between Kethem Naval Intelligence, the Kethem Guard, and the Hectlac cult that she knew had resulted in trials that had gone all the way to the high council. But she suspected that Corbel would not have been involved in that end of it.

He had to be a very high level magic user.

"Were you one of the ones that caused the accident?" she prodded, deciding he didn't have to think she was stupid.

Corbel grinned at her, realizing she had put two and two together. "It wasn't an accident my sweet, not an accident at all. But I wasn't the one that caused it. None of us were." His voice turned grim on the last sentence, and he would say no more on the subject.

Bits and pieces of an interesting man. Not a lot to go on, given the amount of time she had spent with him.

She really wanted a drink.

IN THE BASEMENT

Delrin sneezed as they stirred up the dust from countless numbers of plain wooden boxes with obscure labels. "Lets see, lets see, where did I leave those darned...." muttered Corbel under his breath as they thread their way through the area.

"Nu-clee-are Hand Grrr-nades" read the Don as they wandered by one crate.

"A nasty piece of business, that... trust me, nothing you'd want" Corbel replied distractedly.

"IPBMII Inflatable Pontoon Bridge, Army Green" said El Sid, reading another.

"Dismal failure, really... damn things float away before you can get across them..." Corbel said as he continued to scan crates to the left and right.

"C rations, Beef Stroganoff with pickled herring and Condensed Edible Green Generic Vegetable" read Glorm, reaching inside the open top to grab one of the strange looking containers. Corbel slapped his hand away.

"Jeez, man, you want your arm amputated at the shoulder?" asked Corbel. "Those things have been known to take out an entire army!"

Finally, they reached an area that looked like it had been visited more recently. "Ahhh, here we are." Corbel began hauling things out of boxes. In short order, he had a pile of items. "Here's what you've got" he said as he ticked them off on his fingers. "One Comm device, a 10 charge ring, roll vs. intel to fire, 10 minutes of communication. One Amulet D mag, chain and level, 1 minute duration, 7 charges. Three rings fire pro. Six potions of water breathing , duration 4 hours. One outfit of water freedom, can breath and move as if on dry land, one day on / six days off. One charged ring with fly spells, one hour duration, 4 charges. One sword with detect gems and metal. One scroll of group invisibility, ten minute duration, roll vs. intel. I only have two horses unless you want to wait awhile. No collapsible boats. I can lend you 100 gold at 20% per annum."

"Sounds good" agreed the Sid, nodding. "What about information on Morgart?"

Corbel began snapping out facts like he was reading from an encyclopedia. "Morgart, the Black wolf of Tendut, born 9997, died 10053. A brilliant but vicious general, he rose through the ranks of Kethem's military quickly after a particularly bloody but successful campaign to save Oleg from the Urakai in April of 10027. Assigned as Liaison for Elvish affairs in 10032, he spent less than a year in the post. Retired from the military and established the Human League in 10034, operating out of Pranan for the next twelve years. While he was there he established a strong relationship with a High Council member Jorgy. Reinstated as a full General by Jorgy and assigned as Govener-General of Gorwell's Academy of Magic when it was decided to force Gorwell to support military applications with his advanced magic in 10046. Died there two years after the appearance of the Chen Kunda in Tawhiem. Gorwell's Academy, which had been renamed the Morgart Acadamy of Military Magic Applications, or MAMMA, was destroyed early in the war with the Chen Kunda, about six months after Morgart's death."

"What do you know about Morgart's edifice?" prompted the Sid.

"Morgart's edifice refers to one of several branches of MAMMA that Morgart established between 10048 and 10051. Morgart's edifice is located at Valen's point. The branches, of course, referred to the main academy as the 'big MAMMA' and to other branches as 'your MAMMA.'"

El Sid winced at the pun. "Maps?"

Corbel pulled out a laminated map with a "Chevron" sign on it. Everyone clustered around quickly.

Glorm pushed his way closer to Corbel's map and started scrutinizing it closely. He turned to Corbel and asked "what be these two strange stars? Korbit's Hole and the Temple of the Olive Grove?"

"Korbit's Hole... Korbit's Hole... I guess that would be a hole. Probably owned by Korbit. Not a bad name, all things considered. It reminds me of something... something grand...." Corbel looked into the distance.

"Corbel?" asked Glorm.

"Exactly!" said Corbel, suddenly animated. "No, actually, I have no idea what it is. Temple of the Olive Grove is a big Druid commune, sect of the Environ. They've rejected all the trappings of modern society, except for spells of course. Buildings, shopping malls, clothes... they just don't allow them. An interesting place to visit, although I suggest you bring plenty of insect repellent. And toilet paper. Well hidden, of course... don't get caught with it, at least."

"What do you know of these two small islands south of this bung hole place? It seems to me they be the perfect place to hide a navel base."

Corbel shrugged. "Krinn's navel is much nicer. Oh, sorry, you mean a NAVAL base. No clue. No major towns, no major natural resources, just specs on the map as far as I know."

Glorm, disappointed, continued "Lastly, are all these ruins cleaned out? There are certainly a lot of them!"

Corbel shook his head. "Cleaned out indeed. The three along the road to Weltz are castles that were under construction during the first part of the second Orc-Human war, when it became obvious the Urakai were going to take the upper peninsula. I don't even think they were finished before the waves of Urakai hit. Many people died there, and there are stories even today of ghosts that wander the halls. The one south of Brak Skul is a city that the Urakai leveled. No one really knows why, but it was so decimated no attempt to reclaim it ever occurred. The ruins at the tip of the peninsula are more interesting. They are ancient, and in fact most of it was excavated by archeologists. Some believe that they were not build by humans, although there is very little hard evidence, since the ruins are so old. Unfortunately, people who spent a lot of time there tended to throw themselves off the cliffs into the sea. There were many short visits, but the adventurers that did it returned empty handed. After a while, the excavation stopped. No one goes there any more."

After studying the map for a while longer, they returned to the great room.

Corbel kissed Krinn on the cheek. "See you in a few, my sweet muffin! I've got to inventory the materials I'm giving you for the darned Bryant hold bean counters."

"Bye Corby, I'll miss you" replied Krinn sweetly. As soon as he departed Krinn motioned El Sid over. As she approached her overly cheerful smile vanished to be replaced with the more familiar smirk. "Sid, I only have a minute, but I have some important details for you. First off, our host is a real goody two shoes. He has some crazy notion about magic improving the lot of the masses. I don't know about you, but I have a lot I need to get out of Corbel, so play it as straight and narrow as you know how. Secondly, this guy is the real deal. He is probably as tough a wizard as you humans have. So again play it straight. We are just noble adventurers looking to make our fortune and right wrongs..."

Sid pondered her statement for a moment. It all made sense. The guy certainly seemed to be on a high horse. He was going to reply to Krinn with a half ass barb about what exactly she was going to be getting from the old goat, when he noticed that crazy smile was back on Krinn's face. Before he could say a word, Krinn was off. "See you Sid, I have to see how Corby is making out in the basement."

"Crap," thought Sid, "this guy Corbel was making Krinn crazy as a loon. I wonder if that Glamour spell has any nasty side effects?" It didn't matter much, he reflected. They would be out of the place in a day or so, and Krinn would have a chance to regain her composure. In the future... well, they would see how things shook out.

September 21st - On the road again

Krinn sighed deeply. Delrin noticed. "Something wrong, Krinn?"

She sounded almost weepy. "Hot showers. Gotta love' em."

Delrin nodded understandingly, even though he had no idea what she was talking about. "Ya, but we're on the road again. Come on Krinn, let's sing some show tunes!"

Krinn looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Get away from me, you dweeb."

Delrin, hurt, moved off to more hospitable ground. "Hey, Glorm, how goes it?"

"It be about the same as it was five minutes ago, when we left Corbel's house." Delrin moved on.

Glorm shook his head and moved closer to the Sid. "We be backtracking, or follow the road?"

"Backtrack, I think. All the reasons we avoided the road in the first place are still valid." Glorm nodded. El Sid was toying with the dagger. Unfortunately, Corbel had declared it a standard, non magical dagger. The medal was the same. Only the box had been magic, and Corbel had dismissed it as nothing more than a simple preservation spell.

His analysis of the Moonstone had been only slightly more worthwhile. He had looked at it and cast spells and muttered under his breath for a long time. Finally, he spoke. "Interesting. It is magical, but of a kind I'm not familiar with. Not familiar with at all. Which means it isn't human, Urakai, or Elvish. Even if it was a new spell, they are almost always variants or extensions of spells already known. This... this is completely new." He shrugged. "That's all I can really tell you. Sorry."

Sid's thoughts raced as he hefted the pouched moonstone in his hand. Magic that was not Human, Elven or Urakai! This bit of information did explain a lot. If this substance was an artifact of a different magic line, it was no wonder that traditional safeguards were ineffective against the Bradford's scrying box. And without understanding the principals behind this new magic, it would be hard to take effective countermeasures. Maybe, however, that meant that there were measures that were *ineffectual* against traditional magic trees that would work against this new line. Stood to reason. Every magic system had it's weaknesses. What might work?... Maybe it can't penetrate closely opposed dimensions? What if he stayed 'In Shadows' most of the time? Then the only time he could be detected would be if he happened not to be HIS and the Bradford's tried to snoop him. He was sure no one would have tried this approach. Staying 'In Shadows' required constant attention. Hard to find a good reason to do so when just sitting around the office doing paperwork. Hmmmm...might be an angle here. He'd keep practicing his 'Shadows' ability to increase his skills...

Should he mention the fact the the Bradford's device was probably made from this same material? If Corbel thought that a new magic was involved, maybe he'd be more cautious in passing the info about the device on to Bryant Hold. Sid sorely wanted pressure brought to bear on the Bradford's. He desperately needed to have their attentions diverted from Borgia. He needed breathing room. He needed operating space. If the Bradford's had their private's squeezed from other quarters, they would have to put other matters on hold and attend to that first. Might give him and the Hold the respite that was needed. If the Bryant's went off half-cocked, however, the shot might misfire. Decisions, decisions...

"It's been in the Family for centuries. All I know is that it is PreFall and glows every month in concert with the Moon. And I believe that the Bradford's scrying device is made of the same material."

"Really. What makes you think that?" [coolly]

Sid smiled. "Maybe we can perform a few experiments on this when we get back," pocketing the stone.

"Hmmm...perhaps we might at that." [somewhat annoyed] "Hmmm...perhaps I might at that..." [thoughtfully]

El Sid looked up, returning to the hear and now. Clear blue skies, swept clean of the thunderstorms and gale force winds of the last week, smiled down at him. The ground was still soft and muddy, but that would dry out within a day or so, and with the addition of the pack animals Corbel had loaned them, they would make decent time even with the muck. Despite the comforts of Corbel's house, he was glad to be on the move again. It felt like forward progress.

The day passed uneventfully, as did the next. The ground, as he expected, absorbed the moisture and firmed up, erosion and faster running streams the only remaining sign of the storms. On Thursday, they crossed the road, waiting until dark to avoid detection. Friday was slower going than he expected; the Chekun-Maka was spilling over it's banks, and they had to stay to higher ground rather than follow the relatively flat side of the river. Saturday they hit the forest around Valen's point near the end of the day, and camped on the outskirts. Sunday they pushed through the forest, having decided to travel by day rather then try to guide the pack animals through the brush in the dark. They had made one discovery as a result, although it was not clear what it meant.

Delrin had been on lead, and they were passing Valen's point, carefully staying about half a mile away from the walls. Delrin had held up his hand and everyone stopped. He bent over, then signaled the group to close on him.

"What be it, Delrin?" asked Glorm.

"A trail from the north, leading to Valen's point." He pointed down, and with little examination, it was clear that indeed this was a path that had been used frequently and recently. "We must have missed it last time since we were moving in the dark."

El Sid looked north. "That scattering of farms is the only thing north of here we know about."

"I feel this be somehow connected to the blacklife" exclaimed Glorm.

El Sid nodded. "Possibly. We can investigate it later, when we're finished with Bethelan Station."

They moved on, careful to cover their tracks.

The mud was drying rapidly but still made it hard going for the adventurers. After leaving the intriguing path to Valen's Point for another day, the weary travelers made camp early. After a simply dinner, Sid and Dom sat slightly apart from the others and had a lengthy quiet discussion. Eventually, Sid took out a small stone disc from a pouch and placed it on a log in front of the two. The discussion continued. Apparently suggestions and options were being brought up, evaluated and dismissed. After an hour and a half, both men had wound down and sat staring at the stone, chins propped in hands, looking discouraged. Other party members had turned in. Finally, as the evening dark gathered, the slim crescent of a new moon began to rise and the stone disc began ever so faintly to glow a milky white. Both men continued to stare morosely in silence, the Don slowly shaking is head.

Eventually Glorm wandered by, brandy mug in hand, and took in the scene. 'Poor Humans', he thought, 'Need some cheering up.'

"Sometime today's problem seem better on the 'morrow, my friends. We break camp early. Why not sleep on it tonight? Maybe something will come to you."

Sid dejectedly nodded his head. "Perhaps you're right, Glorm."

Glorm nodded companionably and wandered off. The two Saltans continued their morose vigil, hoping for inspiration. Suddenly, after ten minutes, both men stiffened as one. Sid's left eyebrow raised even as his right eye squinted at the stone appraisingly. Dom cocked his head to one side, a funny speculative look on his face. They looked at each other. In concert, they turned and stared off in the direction Glorm had gone.

Dom stood, stretched, and with studied nonchalance, picked up the moonstone. As he bedded down and tried to find a comfortable position for his head on the small stone plate, Sid, with huge innocence, leaned back against a tree and placed his hands behind his head. It was going to be one of those nights...