"Is this thing working?" (Patreon)

I asked irritably after Ash didn't respond.  I tugged on the string.  "Am I holding it right?"

"The string is supposed to be connected to the mug at the other end," Rebecca stated helpfully.

"I don't think that's true," Vernier contradicted.  "I tested it on the way back here, and it worked fine for me.  Just remember to pull the string taut, speak clearly, and place it next to your ear for listening.  It isn't very loud."

"CALLING ASH MARTEN," I yelled into the mug.

"Ah, your highness!" Ash's voice wafted tinnily from the back of the mug.  "I hadn't realized Vernier was back at your encampment already.  It's so good to hear from you!  I am pleased to see that you are being proactive.  Conjuring up scry orbs; very impressive.  Such a pity the Bunkirk congregation's containment measures prevent them from working past the edge of the forest."

"How then am I able to talk to you now?" I asked impertinently.

"Tut tut, my dear boy," he chuckled.  "You may not be permitted to scry out, but nobody said I couldn't scry in.  That's something to think about, isn't it?  This little device however, is completely different.  It's a bit of lowfolk mechanical cleverness which I spiced up with a simple Gramarye to link the mugs without needing miles of string.  Should work virtually anywhere in practically all conditions."

"You can scry on me?" I blurted without thinking.

"It's theoretically possible," Ash gloated.  I could hear the smirk he must have had on his face.  "How do you think I knew to meet Vernier at the precise spot where she emerged from the forest with that lovely scry orb (which looks remarkably like one of a set I used to have, by the way)?  I must have been watching you, or perhaps I have spies in your organization ... or maybe it was just the trees reporting to me, as always.  Who could say for sure?"

Great.  My stomach sank as I realized that probably none of my plans were secret from this rotten scheming Vulpitanian.

"Very impressive work, by the way," Ash continued.  "I must admit with a certain amount of admiration that, between stealing my orbs and depriving me of my most valuable lieutenant, you actually managed to surprise me.  Lysander is already gone on his pilgrimage.  My hat's off to you for such a wonderfully underhanded scheme.  Tricking the poor devout fool into eating forbidden fruit - classic!  Perhaps you've been reading that book I gave you, hm?  However, Lysander did not ask my permission before abandoning his duties.  I shall definitely need to have a chat with him when he gets back.  Maybe remind him of the precarious situation with his children."

"Children?" I exclaimed.  "I was told Lysander was a bachelor!"

"He is," Vernier affirmed.  "What is Ash talking about?"

"Oh yes, everyone thinks that," Ash explained suavely.  "However 'bachelor' isn't quite the right word.  'Widower' would be more appropriate.  He doesn't like to talk about it, poor fellow.  His wife died quite tragically and unexpectedly after giving birth to their last child.  Naturally I was there to console Lysander and give him meaningful employment to keep his mind focused and all those little mouths fed.  Gratitude, as I've told you, is a wonderful thing.  However, when gratitude fails, fear is the cure-all, isn't it?"

"What's Ash saying?" Vernier asked, in response to some expression that must have crossed my face.  "Is he being creepy?  Is he exuding menace?  He sometimes does that."

"You've got a pretty good Exude going yourself, My Lord," Rebecca added.  "Are you about to unleash some Fell Magicks?  Hang on and let me get my notebook before you start!"

"You Unseelie fiend," I muttered darkly into the mug.  "You and I have much to discuss."

"Indeed we do," Ash replied.

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