After fighting back the need to list a million reasons <i>why to assault Kjan</i>... Dante's brain was still a bit tumultuous, and not exactly in it's prime of wit either.

Stockings? Fire?

"Wait," he said uncertainly, "How do you know about... there's no way... unless the scoundrel has been actually <i>bragging</i> about... your idea... WAIT." In less than a few minutes his face was out of confusion and back into the more familiar form of mad and unpredictable rage. "That was YOUR IDEA?! You were the little brat who...?!"

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<center>
"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."

"Yes, but that was so very long ago," Kjan smoothly interjected, sliding in between Dante and the Phantom and placing an amiable arm around Dante's shoulders. "Over twenty years, in fact. Celeste is happily married to the man she loves, and they have five lovely children. You're a middle-aged los- bachelor working as a cartographer in the middle of nowhere and guiding a band of misfits through the wilderness. All's well that ends well, right? Right." Flashing the man a tentative grin, Kjan quickly removed his arm and looked around at the others. "Still working on that Plan B, then?"

For Dante, this was the end of the rope.

Well, the end of the Patience With Those Who Are Below Us rope.

This man; after officially ruining his chance of a wonderful marriage <i>and</i> a position in the occupation he'd always coveted, now had the arrogance to tell him it had all turned out well? When he was standing here with pneumonia, rope burn, and a massive anger problem?

It only took a brief moment for his fist to make very hard contact with Kjan's left eye. And for the first time that day, he exhaled deeply, and looked somewhat content.

"You," he said, pointing a finger at Eledhe, and taking a few hasty, cautionary steps backwards"...have positively no idea <i>how</i> much he deserved that."

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<center>
"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."

For Dante, this was the end of the rope.

Well, the end of the Patience With Those Who Are Below Us rope.

This man; after officially ruining his chance of a wonderful marriage <i>and</i> a position in the occupation he'd always coveted, now had the arrogance to tell him it had all turned out well? When he was standing here with pneumonia, rope burn, and a massive anger problem?

It only took a brief moment for his fist to make very hard contact with Kjan's left eye. And for the first time that day, he exhaled deeply, and looked somewhat content.

"You," he said, pointing a finger at Eledhe, and taking a few hasty, cautionary steps backwards"...have positively no idea <i>how</i> much he deserved that."

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<center>
"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."

Eledhe looked on the point of disagreeing, but she paused and looked thoughtful, and then - "No," she said, "no, I really think I do." And her expression did rather assume a degree of satisfaction upon beholding the afflicted Kjan.

The Phantom, on the contrary, was wearing a curious expression alternating between bemusement, mirth, and dismay. Eventually he settled on a sort of compromise between the three, which made him look set upon by some sort of strange and never-before-seen illness. Evidently he realized it, because strange-expression was replaced by resigned-expression. "Now you've got that done," he began, " - Kjan, there is water behind us, a whole river, and it's very useful for cleaning bloody noses - could we perhaps accomplish something not relating to personal grievances, and more relating to the conspicuous lack of working rope that our guide here was kind enough to relieve us of?"

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"Not bleeding," Kjan muttered, gingerly touching the area where Dante's fist had made impact and immediately regretting it. Apparently the 'middle-aged bachelor' was still quite capable of inflicting damage when so provoked. Kjan didn't anticipate anything worse than a lovely black eye for a week or so, but when one took into consideration the significant blow to his pride....He'd get over it.

"Fair enough," he said at length, inclining his head slightly with a forced smile. "Now we've got that squared." He stuck out a hand awkwardly, looking as though it was the last thing he wished to do. "Truce?"

Staring back at the hand scarcely seemed enough, Dante reckoned, but for one minuscule bit of a second, he had the mad urge to swat it away.

No. That wouldn't do at all, seeing as he was soaking wet and with a group of people who all appeared to be allies. He had no choice left but to accept it, and move on to the next step, good or bad.

Gingerly he took Kjan's hand, and shook it lightly before quickly releasing it. There was a rather awkward moment of silence, and he forced a rasping cough or two, before muttering, "So what was Plan B?"

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<center>
"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."

"Swimming," said the Phantom with a completely straight face. When this was met by raised eyebrows, he blinked once and held up the broken end of rope. "Might I remind you that this already held the title of Plan B?" Turning, he bowed once to Dante. "Our esteemed guide has effectively rendered us planless besides, of course, the obvious."

"You're the leader of a rebellion," responded Eledhe testily, with very pointed emphasis. "You're supposed to be able to come up with these things."

"We don't have wings!" he protested. "And if you can pull a boat out of a hat in the middle of the wilderness, I salute you." Before she could respond bitingly, he ended wearily with an inquiry in Dante's direction - "you did say it might be possible to ford it further down?"

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"At a very high risk," said Dante pointedly, "...but yes. It can."

<i>Idiots</i>, he thought bitterly, <i>I might as well have swam across while I was in the cursed river. Now they're to make me go across again. I hope they'll give me a decent funeral.</i>

Oddly enough, he'd already conveniently forgotten that it was <i>his</i> fault that both him and Kjan had fallen in.

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<center>
"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."

"At a very high risk," said Dante pointedly, "...but yes. It can."

<i>Idiots</i>, he thought bitterly, <i>I might as well have swam across while I was in the cursed river. Now they're to make me go across again. I hope they'll give me a decent funeral.</i>

Oddly enough, he'd already conveniently forgotten that it was <i>his</i> fault that both him and Kjan had fallen in.

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<center>
"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."

"Right, then," Kjan said abruptly, heading back toward where his pack - thankfully - had been slung down before he'd started his climb across. "I, for one, would like to get relatively dry and recover from my first little swim before being subjected to that water again." He knelt down to retrieve something from the bag, then added as an afterthought, "Miladies, I can see that you are quite excited, but I must lamentably inform you that that will not entail any removal of clothing at the present."

Maintaining a reasonably convincing facade of remorse, he proceeded to pull out the blanket he had used the night before and fashioned a sort of relatively dry second cloak. He considered exchanging his boots for the dry ones he had packed, but determined that there would be little sense in putting on dry boots, only to go soak them in the river. His toes might eventually freeze and fall off, but his spare boots would remain dry.


Silvryn, who seemed anything but disappointed, did not acknowledge Kjan's last statement, instead turning back to Dante. "How far away might this crossing be?"

Things had seemed to calm down a bit between Kjan and Dante. Ash decided it was same for him to come out from behind his tree. He hadn't wanted to get in the middle of the argument, especially since he had been partly responsible for it. Acting as if he had been there all along, he strode out into the open. If he happened to stay away from Kjan, it was probably just coincidence.

Eledhe looked mildly disdainful rather than excited at the prospect of a partly-clothed Kjan, and like her royal counterpart affected not to have noticed him.

The Phantom observed the less than pleased miens of those who had been looking forward to getting across the river in a dryer state than they would now be subjected to, and threw Kjan a look. "If, by any chance, you are contemplating further aggravation of the esteemed Dante Salone..." he trailed off, eyeing said personage. "Make sure nobody catches you."

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"Are you implying that I, a consistent man of my word, would stoop so low as to disregard a mutually agreed-upon truce for my own personal enjoyment?" Kjan inquired incredulously. "You wound me, dear friend." He dramatically placed a hand over his heart and feigned hurt before rising to his full, not-so-signficant height. "Anyway," he scoffed, brushing some imaginary dirt from the front of his tunic, "I've never once been caught without wanting to be caught. Unless you count the time some of the Regent's men came over for supper. Or that one time with the turnips."

Fording the river? Jate could hardly believe it. Here he was, ready to go across on a nice, somewhat safe rope, and now he has to ford? He barely supressed a whimper. Swimming wasn't high on the list of things he enjoyed; in fact, he barely went in water over his thighs. And now, an ice cold rushing river?

Realizing he was falling behind the group, Jate stepped up until he fell in behind the Phantom and Kjan.

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going on a journey through my old claims

Evidently entirely ignoring Jate - though with a pointed lack of glances in his direction - the Phantom was saying nonchalantly to Kjan, "I haven't heard your evaluation of our resident young nobleman. His character is perhaps a familiar one, wouldn't you say? Reminiscent of, say, this fellow Phaerin I knew once."

Eledhe, annoyed at having to get herself and her weapons wet when there had been every possibility of avoiding it, was habitually and somewhat disgustedly taking up the position of rear guard. The Phantom didn't tend to assign such things, a habit that might have bothered her if she hadn't known him well enough to catch the sidelong glances he threw into underbrush, or careless sweeps of the river and bank opposite. It was a strange technique, but he knew what he was doing.

That wasn't what disgusted her, really. It wasn't the eventuality of getting wet, either, and though Duke Jais might be perpetually aggravating, he was peripheral as well.

Avoiding the topic mentally, Eledhe idly pulled out a throwing star to toss between her finger and thumb.

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