In Which Laveria Declares Falidor Universally Henpecked

January 20, 1157

"So, now that my son has two babies lying around--and not to mention, you fell for the oldest trick in the book--are you inspired to have any little ones of your own any time soon?" Laveria pried as she gently patted her young grandson's back. She felt somewhat guilty annoying Falidor with her stinging questions, but she couldn't deny that it was fun to make him squirm.

Besides, it wasn't as if he would ask her to stop; just as she figured he would, he merely shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe now that I've got my own house now--er, our own house, I mean. Ailede and I... don't do things very often. Occasionally, but not more than anyone else, if you know what I mean."

"So you're not getting much?" she teased him. "Cry me a river, honey. On the other hand, at least your sister got you a very nice house for your troubles. How in God's name did that girl get to be as bold as she is growing up with a doormat like you?"

"No idea," admitted Falidor as he pushed back his chair and stood. "Anyway, my favorite girl looks lonely down there; I'm going to play with her."

"Faldor!" Raia exclaimed happily as he joined her on the floor and picked up a stray doll. "You walk deck."

Seeing Falidor obey, Laveria chuckled appreciatively. "See what I mean? Even the one-year-old rules over you with an iron fist; maybe you should consider growing a backbone."

"And maybe you should consider getting married," the boy retaliated. "People are talking about you, you know. They all think you're a pagan whore, and they only put up with you because you're Lord Severin's mother."

She rolled her eyes; she was so used to this sort of treatment that it no longer bothered her. "Well, that's their problem, because I don't give a damn either way. Besides, I've been married; it's highly overrated."

"Amen to that," Falidor laughed.

Suddenly, the door burst open, revealing the large, bearded form of Goodman Diarn.

"Laveria!" he gasped, trying desperately to catch his breath. "Thank God you're here! You weren't at your house, and then the carpenter next door said you were off visiting, and--"

"Hold your horses, Halford!" she snapped. "If this is an emergency, you're better off not explaining how you found me and just telling me where to go and how quickly I should run."

Still shaking, Halford's blue eyes met her own brown ones; whatever this was, it was certainly more than a cold or a splinter. "Florian's house--and hurry!"

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