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No more Belinda, no more Candy, and Ti
I did learn that I have the second sight. My prophecy was correct. The next fad was revolution. It stumbled out of the cafes and failed abysmally. Peopled by the very young, the revolution neither asked nor accepted anything from the old and experienced and wise. Westman Block and his secret police, directed by Relway Sencer, ate them alive. The rebellion collapsed without having stirred any dust. Afterward, Block bragged that five members of the seven-man Joint Revolutionary Direction had been Relway's agents.
Need any more convincing that those fools were fools of the first water? In the real world Block had to pay me to save his bacon when he ran into real troubles.
He hasn't been around lately. Happily. Word is, a whole cabal of wizards has agreed to research and unravel the Candide Curse (how come it isn't called the Drachir Curse?) and keep their eyes on one another so nobody gets any advantage from the spell. Just as soon as they catch Glory Mooncalled.
Might be a while.
The Dead Man's hero hasn't given up. Neither the morCartha overhead nor the Venageti proposal of an armistice has daunted him.
Life was good. Life was normal. I could sit back and do some serious thinking and beer tasting.
Then Morley's nephew Spud showed up with the parrot. Supposedly a present from my leg-breaker friend. The parrot could talk. Morley figured I could use it to drive Dean crazy and get rid of his cat. The bird hated cats. It swooped on them, clawed at their ears and eyes.
Word of advice. Word to the wise. Voice of experience. Don't ever bring a talking parrot within thinking range of a dead Loghyr. Not ever.