Anne sighs deeply.  She's had inconvenient trump contacts and transfers before, but this is the worst yet.  It brings to mind the kind of tales that sometimes get told amongst the older generation.  She can see King Random in her minds eye, half-drunk around a table with the Queen and a few guests: "So there I was, holding Corwin as he bled all over the bed, and this chick just wouldn't stop screaming.  Like she hadn't had a half-dead guys suddenly appear on top of her in bed before or something?"  The entire table would laugh, Corwin positively roaring, and even Vialle laughly politely.<br/><br/>It didn't seem so funny right now.<br/><br/>"I'm fine." she called back.  This was going to be damned inconvenient, as Random would say.<br/>She lowered Karloff to the floor, mentally talking to Greyclaw as she did so.  "Go distract Jerry or Jim or whatever his name was there for a minute so I can think."  She gave the dagger a light toss down the hall, and it transformed back into a cat, managing to get a very catlike disapproving look as it did so, and scamped towards the bedroom to pounce on the young man.<br/><br/>She gives him a quick pat over, checking for any major open wounds as well as concealed weapons.  She muttered low curses to herself as she did so.  She knew she was quite a sight.  Catching him had pulled the bathrobe open to expose one breast, and the robe and the exposed skin had a nice smear of blood on them.