Again, up. We'd found his bedroom and wardrobe. More black satin, some of it things we'd rather not have known about, and a featherbed the size of Ulster. I wasn't inclined to spend any time there, and hastened toward the staircase leading up to the brilliantly sunlit tower's highest reach.
    "A minor side effect of something I did," Wynn said, watching the storm approach from the shelter of a small roofed-in area. "Welcome to the castle, can I do something for you?"
    "Besides jumping to your death?" Meara offered.
    "Sorry, not on my schedule for today."
    "Remind me to sneak in some time and change that."
    "I am rather curious as to what you think you're doing," I said carefully.
    "What, right now? I'm waiting."
    "What are you waiting for?" Meara wanted to know.
    "Waiting for the storm. It should be here soon."
    "Any particular reason?" Conner ventured.
    "Yes, actually." He smiled in apparently genuine cheer. Sunlight gleamed off his black, rose-encrusted armor, Hunger looming balefully over his shoulder.
    "And what would that be? If you don't mind." I saw no harm in being polite.
    "Well, the purpose of the storm is to kill me, if I let it."
    "Is it actually the Hunt?" Meara asked.
    "Oh, I should think it is."
    "I've always wanted to see that, but not from quite so close up."
    "Then you should probably be going. It will be here soon."
    "I could try to kill you before it gets here," I offered.
    "That you could. Are you going to?" The wind was picking up.
    Oddly enough, I wasn't sure. "As good a way to spend the afternoon as any. I still do want to know what you're doing, of course....."
    "I have a question," the priestess of Brigid spoke up again. "How many puppet strings are attached to you right now?"
    "Right now? None."
    She bowed and left, apparently satisfied by this rather cryptic exchange. The others had already gone. I made an abortive motion toward my sword's hilt; uncertainty had crept over me, watching the storm's approach.
    "Leave him to the justice of the Hunt," Meara suggested from the stairwell. It didn't seem like a bad idea, particularly given their reputation for hunting down anything that came into their sight.
    The wind rose to a howl, and rain drove through the pillar of sunlight.
    "Any last words?"
    "When I get around to needing last words, I'll be sure to get around to sending you a copy," he smiled. "Are you sure you want to be up on this roof?"
    The hounds were visible in the clouds now. Time for a strategic retreat. I descended the stairs and stayed there, ignoring Meara as she went through Wynn's wardrobe and critiqued his choices for the day.
    "He might win," I shrugged to the others, who looked like they wanted to be gone.
    "I don't think he'll win, but he might hold them off long enough," Conner opined nervously.
    We all knew the exact moment when he drew Hunger.
    "The gentleman we spoke to at Samhain said that they weren't going to be able to get to him....."
    "I would like to point out that we made it possible to get to him," Meara explained.
    "Unchaining the....?"
    She nodded. "I don't know precisely which end of it, but he's no longer hidden from them. The question is whether or not he can win this fight, and there's actually a good chance he can. Either way, I'm not chasing him. Shall we go check out the library while we're waiting?"
    "I'll wait here," I demurred. I could hear the fight going on above, the lightning and thunder rattling around the tower. Shadows moved, cast by the lightning and the pillar of sun.
    "What do you think, think this linen would look good on me?"
    "No."
    They went down to poke around Wynn's workroom. I stationed myself at the top of the stairs on the far side of the bedroom from where he would come down, if he did.
    "Your funeral. I mean, good luck," Gannon shrugged.
    "If he comes down afterward, I want to be able to congratulate him. And then take his head off. And that way you guys can get a head start."
    "Why don't you wait in the throne room, then?"
    "This way we can do a battle on the stairs."
    "Yeah, but you'll be going down, he'll be on the top."
    I gave her an exasperated look.
    "I know, but if you behead him in his own throne room, thus ending his pretensions to grandeur....."
    "Beheading him in his bedroom will do just as well." Always an argument with that one.
    "Oh, I suppose. In certain families that could be considered the beginning of foreplay."
    Conner, to my surprise, stayed with me. Then I realized that he didn't want to be separated from his crown. He didn't make any grabs for it, at least.
    The others looked around the library, which like the rest of Wynn's belongings were fanatically organized, although since it was by first letter of the author's first name the organization was a bit useless. There were grimoirs and other books for many schools of magic. Meara collected some colored inks, and she and Conner collected books from the schools of Summoning, Water, Wards, Plant, and Air, and stacked them on the table, not ready to burden themselves with them if a running retreat was necessary.
    More than an hour after the fight began, the storm lifted and I heard someone coming down the stairs.
    It was the Lord of Flame and Darkness, and he was not at all pleased. The stones under his feet were melting.
    "Didn't expect to see you here," I admitted.
    "You weren't expecting him to come down, were you?"
    "It took a while. I wasn't sure." I checked to make sure he wasn't holding Hunger or anything like that.
    Meara came trotting up from below. "Oh, good," she sighed, seeing him.
    "Not the usual response I get," the Lord said dryly. "I'll have to work on that."
    "Yes, but you have class and style," she chirped.
    "You can complain to him about that next time you see him."
    "I beg your pardon?" I had a sinking feeling about this. After a whole hour?
    "He. Got. Away."
    That would explain the mood. I looked at Meara. "Well guys, get whatever stuff you want....."
    "I don't think he'll be coming back here, but it might not be a good idea to hang around. Feel free to keep the place, I don't want it," he waved a dismissive hand.
    "Very generous of you."
    "Somebody will probably be by to talk to you about what's in your pack."
    "Somebody being....?"
         

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