You might give thought as to whether control matters too much to you.

The High Priestess of the Goddess in Fionavar is unaccustomed to having her private conversations interrupted.

She fixes him with a cool regard, icy even in comparison to the weather.

"It will have to wait."

From:

Something in her voice -

- and he knows what has happened.

"No," he snaps, "it won't," and grips her arm with one hand and Jen's, more gently, with the other.

Smiling fatuously for the crowd, ice-cold fury lying just beneath, he propels the two women across the entrance foyer, down a branching hallway, and into the first empty room he sees.

From:

Jen gives him a startled look, but doesn't resist.

The room is empty, except for a number of musical instruments.

From:

She'll have a bruise, but she's not about to let him see that.

The green eyes are colder than ever.

"You had best explain yourself, Twiceborn."

From:

He is fairly sure that he's bruised her, and, at this point, can't bring himself to care.

He had best explain himself? To put it mildly: it's a bit much.

"Where is he?" he says, and hurls the question at them like a weapon.

From:

Jen gives him a blank look.

Then it sinks in, and she shoots Jaelle a look, smiling.

From:

"You were frightened," she says, flatly.

From:

He doesn't deny it. There's not much point.

"Where?" he repeats.

From:

"He's all right, Paul," Jennifer says, before Jaelle can say anything to raise the tensions higher. "Jaelle's told me."

More importantly -- "When did you find out?"

From:

Jaelle says nothing, just waits to see what he has to say.

Of course, her particular type of silence may do a great deal to raise tensions higher.

This is, surely, unintentional.

From:

"Last night," Paul answers, shortly. "I went to the house."

Seen the empty rooms; the empty cradle, rocking in the wind.

From:

Mild -- "I would rather you checked with me or with Jaelle before doing that sort of thing."

From:

He feels the explosion coming, as he looks from one self-satisfied face to the other; curbs it as much as he can.

His words are still harsh in tone, but said as calmly, and as slowly, as he can.

"There seems to be a misconception here. I don't know if either of you are capable of grasping this trenchant point, but we are not talking about some cuddly infant with spittle on his chin -"

The words are faster now, more furious despite his best efforts. "We are dealing with the son of Rakoth Maugrim, and I must know where he is!"

His voice cracks from the effort of keeping it from rising to a shout.

From:

She actually pales.

But it is Jennifer's place -- Jennifer's right -- to make reply to this, and so again she says nothing.

From:

Jennifer looks at him steadily.

"There is no misconception, Paul. I am unlikely to forget who his father is."

Not likely at all.

From:

And just like that, he feels his anger melt away.

But it leaves behind it a residue of sorrow, and deep pain, and guilt, too; which is worse.

"I know that," he says, after a moment in which to get himself back under control. "I'm sorry."

An explanation which few other people would receive: "I was frightened last night. The house was the second thing."

From:

"What was the first?" she asks, and it's not harsh.

From:

"Fordaetha of Ruk."

Jaelle, at least, won't need an explanation.

From:

She is slightly disgusted with herself to find that her hands are trembling.

"Here?" she whispers. "So far south?"

She puts her hands into the pockets of her gowns and hopes, with very little optimism, that Pwyll has not noticed.

From:

"She was," he says, and his voice is quiet, and gentler.

Not reassuring, though. He is never that.

"I drove her back. But not before she killed. I spoke to Loren this morning. Their servant is dead: Zervan. And so is a girl from the tavern."

A girl from the tavern, whom he'd made to cry, once. A girl who'd saved his life.

He turns to Jennifer, to explain what Jaelle knows. "An ancient power of winter was in Paras Derval. She tried to kill me as well and . . . failed. But there is a great deal of evil about."

Steady: "I must know where Darien is, Jennifer."

From:

As soon as he says I must know, she's shaking her head, lips pressed together.

From:

"Listen to me, please!"

He can't give in to her on this. Much as the part of him that is only Paul Schafer might wish to.

"He cannot be only yours now, Jen. He can't. There is too much at stake, and we don't even know what he is!"

From:

She draws herself up, tall and golden. "He is to be random. He is not to be used, Paul."

From:

There is so much dark in this - and where are the ravens now, whispering the truth in his ear?

He cannot blame this on Mornir. But all the same, it has to be said, no matter how hard or savage, and so he says it.

"That isn't really the issue. The issue is whether or not he has to be stopped."

From: