I have been in San Francisco for twelve days now. I am having a wonderful time. I was about to pen some words to describe how I’m feeling, but then this unsolicited email arrived in my inbox. In many ways it says everything and, yet, so much more:
“Father of Lies. The griffins were gone. She was born for love. What is the money to me? He heard a chilling baying. She met him at the door.
He galloped down a side alley. Come and sit down here beside me. Its pincer arms crunched together empty. Then he was alone. He’s about done the job now. I’m nothing by myself. Has your rum come? It is so dark.
But Crombie was already whirling. Was it edible? Something grotesque poked into the room. One way or another. He heard a groan. There was no more to see. Xanth is a perfect Demon. The coral accedes. The shield sank a bit.”
