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your rebellion."
    "Don't mind Madelaine," said Donald. "She doesn't believe in luxuries like optimism and virtues. She's never happy unless she's seeing the dark side of things. She persuaded me to come out of retirement to work with her as private investigators. I provide the brains, and Madelaine sorts out the bad guys. I have to say, I've felt more alive this last year than I have for ages. I was never meant for retirement. She still insists on acting as my bodyguard, even though I haven't forgotten how to use a sword."
    "I'm sure she's very proficient," said Random. "Donald, I need to talk to you."
    "Of course you do. Jack. We have a lot to catch up on. Twenty-two years since I last saw you. I've followed your career as best I could. News takes a while to reach Mistworld. You haven't changed a bit. Jack. Unlike me. How have you stayed so young? You must have been in your late twenties when I first met you, and you don't look as though you've aged a day since then."

    "I have several heavy-duty regenerations to thank for that," said Random. "And a little cosmetic surgery. People won't follow an old rebel. It's no secret that I've been pretty badly messed up on more than one occasion. I may be young on the outside, but my bones know the truth. But I'm still me. Still the professional rebel, ready to fight for truth and justice at the drop of a hat.
    My cause hasn't changed in twenty-two years, Donald, and just like then, I need your help."
    Donald sighed, and settled back in his chair. "Afraid my help's rather more limited these days, Jack. I'm still on the city Council, but I don't take much interest in politics anymore. Which means my influence is pretty much nonexistent. I stick my oar in now and again, just to remind them I haven't died, and I try to do my own small bit for truth and justice as a private investigator, but truth be told, on the whole the important life of the city just passes me by. I can give you names and addresses of some people who might be willing to listen to you, but my name isn't the recommendation it was the last time you were here. Times have changed, Jack, and not for the better.
    Mistport is a colder and far more cynical place than you and I remember."
    "You can still vouch for me to the Council," said Random. "There seems to be some question as to whether I really am who I say I am. If you were to speak up publicly to confirm my identity, it would help a lot."
    "No problem there," said Donald. "I may not be as young as I was, but there's nothing wrong with my eyes or my memory. You're Jack Random. No doubt about it.
    I'd stake my life on it."
    "Don't be so quick," said Madelaine. "Looks aren't everything. You said yourself he looks far too young. How do we know he isn't a clone?"

    "A gene test would answer that," Random said easily.
    "Unfortunately, we don't have access to tech like that here in Mistport," said Madelaine. "Convenient, that."
    "Hush, Madelaine," said Donald. "Easy enough to test the man. There are things only Jack and I would remember. Things we talked about, people we knew, back then. Right, Jack?"
    "Of course. Let me think for a moment. It was a long time ago." Random pursed his lips and rested his chin on his fist. "I remember some of the people you sent me to. There was Lord Durandal, the adventurer. Count Ironhand of the Marches. Is either of them still around?"
    "No," said Donald. "They're both gone now. Ironhand drowned, saving a child who'd fallen into the River Autumn. He was a good swimmer, for an old man. Got the child to safety. But the shock of the icy waters was too much for him. He knew it would be, but he went in anyway. He was that sort of man. Durandal disappeared into the Darkvoid, years ago, on some damn fool quest to find the Wolfling World. Don't know if he ever found it. He never came back."
    "Pity," said Random. "I admired them both. I was hoping they'd vouch for me, too. We still need some proof, don't we? How about this; you gave me all the gold you