Waking is more of a difficult prospect than it ought to be, the fact of which Galadan refuses to become resigned ( Read more... )

Galadan, as it happens, is not much in the habit of staying in Milliways for long periods of time, particularly not in his human shape.

The situation being what it is, however, he has made very little protest about being escorted to one of said bar's rooms.

Give it a few days, mayhap.

It is not often that the Wolflord of the andain chooses to spend his sleeping hours in Milliways, a crossroads between worlds. But occasionally prudence demands it, particularly when several crossings between dimensions have cause to happen in too short a space ( Read more... )

Long years of complex machinations in Fionavar have left Galadan with a certain subset of skills related to information-gathering, and given the relative competence of the autopilot's programming and River Tam's company, he has managed to send out a remarkable number of waves in a comparatively short period of time ( Read more... )

The trouble with needing to move quickly in acquiring a comparatively serviceable ship is that prices skyrocket, even without the appearance of desperation ( Read more... )

While teleporting between worlds is not along the lines of something Galadan would describe as 'difficult', sometimes the simplest means of meeting are the best.

Which is why, he presumes, he will be joining the Tams for dinner in a location that belongs to neither of their worlds.

It seems sensible enough, at least at the moment.

There are a great many responsibilities that lie on the shoulders of the Lord of the andain. Among these are overseeing the needs of his people -- when they will admit to needs, which is very rarely indeed -- and dealing with mortals ( Read more... )

For all the long years that have passed since the Bael Andarien, since the death of Rakoth Maugrim, enemy of the Light, still the tales say to be wary of Pendaran Wood. The deiena have not left their trees, and the paths through the Forest's dimness are always moving, never still, and what they guide a man toward may be nothing like where he wills ( Read more... )

Some would say it has been long and long ere the Wolflord of the andain set his foot on Fionavar's soil. Others would say it has not been nearly long enough. The Wolflord himself merely licks a trickle of blood from one corner of his mouth, leaving the mangled body of Nemain's get on the floor of the forest. She'll heal herself, or she'll die. But ( Read more... )

It is a truth universally acknowledged that every group of teachers needs a refuge from the students. An inviolable sanctum full of tea, slightly uncomfortable chairs, a cinder-choked fireplace, and a slight stale smell of cabbage and chalk dust ( Read more... )