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Rod stared. Then he took a deep breath and said, delicately, “Little chancey, wasn’t it?”

“Nay. We sought to bring him to Mama.”

Gwen’s eyes gleamed. Rod glanced at her, and turned back to the boys with a shudder. “That’s what put us into Limbo?”

“Where?” Magnus frowned. “Oh! Thou dost speak of the Void!”

Rod didn’t like the familiarity with which he spoke of it. “Been there before, have you?”

Magnus caught the look, and realized its significance. “Nay, not so often…‘Tis only that…”

“Spells go awry sometimes, Papa,” Geoffrey explained. “Assuredly thou must needs realize that.”

“That,” Rod said tightly, “is why you’re supposed to wait till Mama can supervise.”

“She did, the first time.”

First… time?”

“Peace, husband.” Gwen touched his arm. “ ‘Tis naught so dangerous as that.”

“Aye,” Magnus said quickly. “When thou dost arrive in that place that is not a place, thou hast but to think of where thou dost wish to be, and lo! Thou art there indeed!”

“I’ll try to remember that,” Rod said grimly. He noticed that Cordelia was managing to hold her tongue, but she looked chartreuse with envy. He caught her hand, and she squeezed back. “So,” he said to Geoffrey, “how did we wind up in Limbo this time?”

“Why, because we wished to bear him to Mama, and he did not wish to go.”

“I don’t blame him, when she’s in that mood. So you were trying to go, and he was trying to stay, so…”

“We went nowhere.” Geoffrey nodded. “I saw, then, that we could not win, so I sought safety.”

“What was so tough about it?” Rod frowned. “I thought you only needed to think yourselves home!”

“We did need some aid,” Geoffrey admitted, and he reached out to clap his three-year-old brother on the shoulder. “This one had followed us with his mind, where e’er we had gone. I had but to call out to him, and he helped pull us, and showed us the road to home.”

“Yes…” Rod’s gaze fastened on his youngest. “He’s had some experience doing that.”

Gregory looked totally blank.

“Not that he’d remember it,” Rod explained. “He was a little young, at the time—eleven months old.

“But! Here you are, safe at home—praise Heaven!” He gathered them all into his arms, and squeezed. They gave mock yells of dismay, and Rod relaxed, looking down into their faces. “And now—you can go home.”

They let loose a squall that must’ve waked villagers for miles around.

“Nay, Papa, not so soon!”

“It was just beginning to be fun!”

“We’re not ready, Papa!”

“Boys get to do all the fun stuff,” Cordelia pouted.

Geoffrey looked straight into Rod’s eyes. “There is no danger, Papa.”

“No danger!” Rod exploded. “You have a maverick warlock raining cannonballs on you, and you tell me there’s no danger? You have a monster magus trying to conjure rock chunks into your bodies, and you tell me it’s safe? You have a felon enchanter, straight from the glass house, throwing stones at you, and you tell me it’s tame?”

“But we are whole,” Magnus spread his hands. “Naught save a bruise or two.”

“Chance! Sheer, freakish good fortune! You’re just lucky that sorcerer was a lousy shot!”

“Yet we outnumber him, Papa!”

“He outweighs you! And that’s just the human danger! What’s going to happen the next time you get into a tug-of-war with one of those sorcerer interns? You might be stranded out in that void with no way to get home!”

“Surely not, Papa!” Geoffrey protested. “ ‘Tis as I’ve said—thou hast but to think of…”

“Yeah, if you’ve got somebody tuned in to act as your safety line!”

“But Gregory…”

“Gregory might be with you!” Rod bawled.

“Yet that doth not alright me, Papa,” the three-year-old cried. “That gray place doth please me! ‘Tis comforting, and…”

“Makes you feel right at home, does it?” Rod felt a bitter stab of guilt. “You should; your mind spent enough time searching there, when you were a baby, trying to find out where Mama and I had gone.”

“An thou sayest it. Therefore do I know my way. There is truly no dange—”

“Now I say NO!” Rod roared, slamming his fist into the turf. Pain shot up his forearm, but his rage shoved it aside. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, talking back to your father!” He snatched Magnus’s collar, and yanked the boy’s face up to his. “Think you’re getting big, do you? Let me tell you, you will never be old enough to argue with me!” He threw Magnus back, and whirled to catch at Geoffrey. The six-year-old ducked aside, automatically bringing his arm up to block, managing to knock Rod’s arm aside.

Rod froze, eyes bulging, staring down at the boy, rigid as a board, white with rage, nostrils pinching in.

Geoffrey flinched away. “Papa—I did not mean…”

“I know what you meant!” Rod strode forward. “I know damned well what you…”

But he bumped into something, and Gwen’s eyes were looking directly into his. Her voice bored through his fury, droning, demanding, “Come out! I know thee, Rod Gallowglass, born Rodney d’Armand. I know thee for my lover and husband, and know that thou art there, beneath this beastliness that overcomes thee. Come out, Rod Gallowglass! Let not this shell of anger overwhelm and overmaster thee. Ever hast thou been a caring husband, and a gentle father to my children. Thou art of Gramarye, not Tir Chlis! Thou art my treasure, and my children thy gems! Husband, turn! Come out to me, Rod Gallowglass!”

Rod stared at her, fury mounting higher, but held by the truth of her words. An evil spell… He shuddered, and his rage fell into slivers, and ebbed. He sagged, his knees giving way for a moment, and stumbled—and Magnus was there beside him, shoulder under his father’s arm, staring up at Rod in fright and concern.

Concern for his father’s safety—even after Rod had been so cruel! This son could not only forgive—he could even run to help! Remorse charged his anguish, and made him harsh. He recovered his balance and stood, stiffening. “Thank you.” But he clasped the boy’s shoulder firmly.

Magnus winced, but stood steadfast.

Rod held the boy’s shoulders with both hands, but his gaze held Gwen’s. “That was foolish, you know. Very risky. Likely to get you slugged.”

Answering anger flared in her eyes—flared, and was smothered. “Twas worth the risk, my lord.”

He gave her a brief, tight nod. “Yes. Thank you. Very much.” He shook his head. “Don’t do it again. It won’t work, again. When it hits me, just… go. Anywhere, as fast as you can. Just go.”

“That, also, would be foolish,” she cried, almost in despair. “If we do flee, thou wilt pursue—and then thou wilt not hear, no matter what appeal I plead.”

He stared at her, immobile.

Finally, he closed his eyes, clenching his fists so tightly that they hurt. He took three slow, deep, even breaths, then looked up at her and said, “But you must. Not when I’m angry—no, you’re right, that would be dangerous.” He forced himself to say it: “For both of us.” It left an astringent taste behind. “But now. Now. It’s getting too wild up here. Alfar and his henchmen aren’t playing games. They’re too dangerous. I’m too dangerous. And if I don’t hurt the children, he will.”

She stared at him for a long moment. The children were very silent.

Then, slowly, Gwen said, “An thou dost wish it, my lord, we will go. Yet I prithee, think again—for we are safer if we are with thee, as thou’lt be. For then can we ward one another’s backs. Yet if we are apart from thee—if we dwell back in Runnymede—then may thine enemies seek to strike at thee by hurting us—and thou wilt not be by us, to defend.”