The King is dead, along with his father, the mother of his
pseudo-daughter, and, of course, the two previously reigning deities. 
Apparently, Bart hadn't heard about that last bit, because he's now a
priest of the Unicorn.  Bad timing.  Anyway, that's the universe as it is
today.  But I have bigger problems.

	My hand continues to rot.  In fact, I suspect it's picking up
speed.  There's not much time for my erstwhile savior to help me.  Oh
well, if I lose my hand, he'll move up on the list.  But for now, we're
pals, and I need to see him, first thing.

	On the suspicious front, Teresa is acting like she cares for me. 
Either Mother was there when she Trumped me, or the Faeries did something
even more unspeakable to her than taking her hand.  Or she's got another
scheme.  I am still looking into her comment about Ygg being a key part of
something.  So verbose, my twin.  It keeps things interesting.

	So Eric is regent again, or so he said at lunch.  Nobody
challenged him right there, so he must have enough over on the others to
hold his position.  Or, everyone's finally figured out that the occupation
of "King" has a very high workplace injury rate.  Leave it to Eric to miss
that clue.

	I have been so busy trying to survive that I have neglected my
duty for revenge upon my father's killer.  The early favorite, of course,
is some Faerie.  Surely, Father would have been an early target for
whatever they did to Teresa.  If the cancer doesn't claim my hand, the
Faeries will surely come calling for it.  What will that do to my
traveling companions?

	All this, and so much more.  Ah, I curse the day long forgotten
when I complained of boredom.

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