Meg and Jenny attend a painting class in San Francisco and talk more about Jenny getting to go to school in Terran.
“Look, Meg, look!” Jenny picked up her canvas and displayed the jumbled, wild mess out for Meg to see. Her grin sparkled in the afternoon light.
Yes. The swirling, mismatched chaos of color was all Jenny.
“I see.” Meg grinned. “It’s beautiful.”
And it was.
“I love this!” Jenny set the canvas back on the easel and threw her arms around Meg’s shoulders. “This is the best ever. I love this so much, Meg! And I love you!”
Meg kissed her temple. “I love you too.”
“I got paint on you.” Jenny peeled herself away and brushed at the paint now staining Meg’s clothes. “Wow, I got paint everywhere.”
In the corner of the studio, the television screen mounted on the wall caught Meg’s eye as it started flashing images of strange figures in samurai armor.
Meg scowled at the screen as the image it displayed blurred into focus, a giant figure in brilliant yellow armor. Njano. Jinsoku. The Warlord. Whatever his name had been, he’d stood in the mountain of fire and claimed to have possessed the Andhera.
That made precious little sense.
The Andhera had been something Velanna’s people had created. It had been devised by Celticans. Yet this yellow samurai had appeared in Terran long before he had shown his face in Andaria. Was he like they were, a traveler between worlds? Had he found the Andhera in Andaria and then come to Terran?
Surely that was possible, but why? And hadn’t he said something about bringing Tiron from the north to the south in order to organize the Outcasts? What was that about?
There were so many questions and so few answers.
