get

with our master. We must make sure that Princess Mary comes to the throne, but is there anything we can do for mother?"
"What do you want me to do?" Pasgen asked, his voice grating. "I can get enough of that disgusting drug to send her into Dreaming—"
"No!" Rhoslyn cried. "That would be forever. I . . . I don't want to lose her. When she's free of it, she is of great use to me. I will see her through this recovery as I have in the past. At least she has enough sense to come to me when she is overcome by craving."
"Yes, but you won't have time to attend to mother just now," he said, dismissively. "I'll take her to her own place and care for her. I've done it before."
Rhoslyn looked at him with anger and distrust. "The last time you nearly let her go into Dreaming. No. There's nothing so important—"
"That was a mistake." Now that he saw she was angry, he softened his own attitude a trifle. "I meant her no harm. I thought it would be kinder to wean her away from the stuff slowly. I know better now."
She sniffed, and gave him a warning look.
But he was too full of his own matter to pay much attention to her warnings. "What's more important is that I'm going to bring to you the two men who were sent to kill FitzRoy. Both of them saw him. One of them even touched him. You can wring out of them everything you