“You’ve found my office in Proscenium Hall,” Courtney observed.  “When you can explain Ettore’s Chapter Three to me—his first two chapters are just definitions—we should talk.”

“I’ve already looked at it.” I paused. “Won’t be soon,” I said.  “But sometimes definitions are traps, not neutral phrases.” 

Master Courtenay gave me a thumb’s up.  “Perhaps that’s where he goes wrong.  Few writers care about those very familiar definitions.”

“Someday, not soon,” I answered.  I stood and bowed.  “I am most grateful, Serene Master.”  That was the last time for a long time that I ate at the General Magic table. 

While it had taken a while to remember the obvious, I did send my parents a long letter describing what had happened, and a short letter to Grandpa Worrow thanking him for his combat training and describing some of what I’d done against Fourbridge.  I emphasized, as he’d warned me, that I had a lot more to learn, because the metal scarecrow thing – golem, a lictor had called it – had been remarkably stubborn about falling apart at the seams.  Constructs are supposed to be fragile; this one hadn’t been.  Theo had given me the list of Outremer Houses that were clients of Senators;  that I included in my letter to Gramps. Letter-writing was interrupted by an interview with a pair of senior lictors.  They were clearly very embarrassed by what had happened, but somehow had the idea Triskittenion House had a house feud with the Fourbridges. We do have a few long-standing feuds, but not the violent sort, more commercial contests that went sour and escalated, but none with House Fourbridge.  Having mailed the letter, I took a nap.