Chapter 4: A Little Talk To Go a Long Way
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	"Gary! Speak ta me, man!"
	"King Cy? King Cy!"
	Cyan slowly opened his eyes for a dizzying view of the Zozoan
siblings leaning over him. He moaned at the sudden awareness of a
throbbing in the back of his head, and pulled up to a sitting position.
Mehnka and Jeff plunked down next to him. "What was with you?"
Mehnka asked him. "You just waited for us to bail, and almost got
yourself crushed!"
	"I had to make sure you evaded the danger safely," Cyan replied
in a pained murmur, rubbing the bruised spot.
	"You're hurt!" Jeff exclaimed. "Let me see. It could be serious.
You could die if you don't get proper treatment. I read that in Jidoor."
	"Ya got a scratch on ya cheek, Jeffie. Think it's gonna kill ya?"
Mehnka asked skeptically.
	"Fear not, 'tis no more than a minor injury; it needs not medicine
but simply time to heal," Cyan assured him.
	"Gosh, you're good," Jeff said, shaking his head in awe.
	"Eh? I... I'm afraid I don't..."
	"'It needs not medicine but simply time to heal...' I bet even
Ajinne Ataya couldn't come up with that on the spot!" Jeff declared.
	Cyan blinked in disbelief. Ajinne Ataya played to a very educated
audience. But they _had_ grown up in Jidoor... "You've read Ajinne
Ataya's work?"
	"Yeah, I read all her stuff. Plus I looked at her most famous
paintings. She's really good, huh?"
	"'Really good'? I daresay you underestimate her, Jeff. Lady
Ataya is but one of this world's most eloquent authors. She is so
eminent, any fiction collection claiming importance should have a torch
taken to it if it lacks her offerings."
	"Oh yeah! Are you a fan?"
	"If anyone in this world is! And you, truly, have read her novels?
At the age of fourteen?"
	"I started when I was thirteen... Is that bad or something?"
	Cyan smiled and shook his head. "No, 'tis rather impressive, I'd
say."
	"When did you start?"
	"Well... the same age as you... but I grew up in a castle; I would
think my schooling would place me more advanced at thirteen than you;
not to cause offense, though--"
	"Nah, none caused," Jeff grinned. "I had some trouble reading it
then, yeah, but I got through. Did you ever read the one about the--"
	"Uh, I hate to break up the literary discussion group here, but we
sorta have a MISSION TA GO ON!" Mehnka loudly reminded them.  "C'mon,
Gary. Ya gotta see what happened to Jeff's rolly-thing." She dragged him
to his feet, then to the ditch which was to be the final resting place of
the wagon. Cyan looked down to discover a sizeable scrap heap. Mehnka
tugged on Jeff's arm. "So, Mister Blitz Master, just what was all that
with the sparks, huh?"
	"Um, beats me. I don't know how these things work." He turned
his head to Cyan. "Do you?"
	"Machines and I lack a certain trust, Jeff. We fail to maintain
good terms with one another. Thus knowing that Mehnka and I haven't
solid ground on which to prove your theories incorrect, feel free to
hypothesize."
	"Huh?"
	"Make a wild guess, idiot," Mehnka translated.
	"Oh, okay." He srugged. "Well, I guess whatever powered the thing
starting spitting."
	Cyan felt like asking him if he was positive he had read Ajinne
Ataya's novels, and then it occured to him that Jeff had said he _read_
them; he never claimed to _comprehend_. "Assuming we haven't deviated
from a direct route to Doma...I believe we should start walking."
	
*-*-*-*

	"...so they took the library paste away from me. And that's why
that same guy's always in Jidoor's auction house," Jeff summed up.
	"Gary," Mehnka started, sick of hearing Jeff retell every second
of their early lives. "So you know Pete, huh?"
	"Pete?" Cyan thought for a moment. "Who is Pete?"
	"C'mon. At the Coliseum. In charge of all the wagers. Ya know
him. I'm sure ya do. He told us about ya, and the other people..."
	"Yeah, he said you were with King Edgar," Jeff said. "He said you
fought Siegfried... Did you know I know Siegfried?"
	"I wasn't the one in our party who fought him... if anyone did..."
Cyan tried to remember exactly who had done what in the days they'd
spent in the Coliseum before defeating Kefka. But with fourteen people all
with their own intentions, even those too young to carry them
out...
	Mehnka recalled, "We spent a couple months there. Pete's a friend
of mine."
	"And Siegfried is a friend of mine!" Jeff proclaimed.
	"Ziggy ain't your friend just cause ya held maybe two
conversations with him," Mehnka challenged. 
	"Hey, who died and made _you_ a Goddess?"
	For what felt like the umpteenth time, the siblings went back to
quibbling, and Cyan blocked the altercation out. When they ran out of
applicable insults for each other, Mehnka and Jeff fell silent.
	Cyan had them to thank for generally distracting him from the
torment of his own mind's worry, but now, with a quiet taking hold of the
pair, he was drowned by a flood of anxiety and confusion. Edgar's death,
the new Empire, Doma's takeover, his unconscious voyage... So many
questions, and none with easy answers. All that he had been told about
the time he awoke in seemed to consolidate into a myriad of names and
places, lacking order and losing meaning. He lifted his hands to his head,
for he felt as though it would explode from the mass, leaving him numb
and limp in a pool of words separated from their essence...
	"What's your favorite color?" Jeff asked.
	Cyan nearly jumped. "Jeff!" he cried, in a relieved tone. "Oh, the
gratitude I owe you...! Blue! Blue and purple, Jeff..."
	"Um, som'thin' wrong, Garamondo?" Mehnka asked, with a ring of
concern that suggested she felt his mental health was slipping. 
	"Nothing, nothing. And what's _your_ favorite color, my friend?"
	"Are you loopy?... I don't play favorites with colors, just as
long as they ain't pea soup green or som'thin'."
	"Mine's yellow," Jeff fluted, feeling proud that he had somehow
done something right.
	As Mehnka darted her eyes warily between the two men, Cyan
decided he needed to save dealing with his mixed emotions for the
voyage to South Figaro. The gentle rocking of the waves and the soft
touch of the sea breezes would create just the right environment for
meditation. He suggested hastily, "Let us talk about something rather
involving, shall we? Jeff, do tell that story about the large moogle in the
small bucket again."
	"Oh boy!" Jeff whooped.
	"Hurrah," Mehnka snorted, continuing to stare at both of them
as though they were one crystal short of a moonpath. 
	The king just smiled. 
	He trained his ears on Jeff's babbling.
  	He closed his eyes.
	And let his remaining senses guide him towards home.