It was a while before Tavish sent his next message through Karla's Moth-hole: 'sorry for delay. no tin cans, managed to bore through a horn, T' and Jasmine raised her soup can to her lips: "hello, Tavish, this is Jasmine," then listened, straining to keep the string taut, then she heard the familiar voice, perhaps more gravelly than before, but certainly Tavish's: "hi Jasmine, good to hear you, never thought I would, we are all still well, at Roslin Chapel – not the modern one, an older place, but safe and sheltered, is Sam there?" and she handed the can to Sam, who fitted it into the large cake tin he had rigged up as an amplifier (they had already tested it by themselves) and they listened, almost reverently, as if they were receiving the words of a swami: "are you well, Tavish?" asked Sam into the soup can, and his reply seemed to boom out of the cake tin: "oh, well, middling I suppose, we're eating king cake as it's Twelfth Night, and relaxing after the maelstrom that enveloped us at Albany Palace, you understand," and Sam chuckled his acknowledgement, then Tavish's voice grew serious: "there have been draconian reprisals already, the King has issued a proclamation that the assassins will be hunted down in every lair and hiding place and anyone sheltering them will be also adjudged to be assassins and all will suffer the full wrath of the Crown, and, by the by, I have been appointed the King here today, as part of the Twelfth Night celebrations, which only means I get to wear a crown and don't have to say please and thankyou, not much else; I'm not fearful for myself, but seriously concerned about my young friends, especially Tammy, of course, but also Bernie, Lolly and Wullie, they all need me and it's quite a responsibility at my age – have you any ideas about how we can get back to you?" and Sam's voice dropped, although Jasmine could hear every word: "our one hope is your original communicant, Little Levy Balquhidder, he knows more about the universe than anyone, and if there is a way, he might be the only person capable of working it out," at which Tavish asked, rather brusquely: "is he a midget, or a dwarf, forgive my language, but there is no political correctness here, even the monks are very uncouth and use language with no regard for their hearers, why do you call him 'Little'?" and this time Sam hesitated then said: "he's a six-month old baby, and don't ask me anything more, it sounds impossible, but Jasmine has also met him and we are not hallucinating, I can assure you of that," and they heard Tavish chuckle: "Sam, Sam, dear old friend, I could never imagine you making up such a story, for your complete absence of any sense of humour is legendary in the Service, so I'll take your word for it, but sometime I will expect an explanation, hush, someone is coming, I'll be in contact later if it can," and the string went slack and both Sam and Jasmine sat and stared at the amplifier; Jasmine detached the microphone and played the conversation over on the recorder: "obviously we can't let anyone hear this, Sir, but what do you really think we can do about finding a way back for Tavish, Tammy and Bernie?" and Sam grunted: "don't forget Lolly, but you are right, and we still don't have the foggiest about the others, where they are, never mind how we can help them – if we can help them – we really need to have a good talk with Little Levy, could you phone his mother and set something up? I've no idea what story you can spin her, but I do know you're pretty good at dissembling, even if you aren't very comfortable working undercover, don't worry, that's not a criticism, we all have a balance sheet of things we can and can't do; I'm not terribly good at reports, because I tend to tell what I believe is the truth, and sadly, our Masters don't always want the truth, and as Tavish said, I'm not too good with jokes, call it humour, or call it slapstick, I either don't get it, or do, but don't find it funny, just silly; I suppose that makes me a boring old fart, but I'm good at what I do do, and I can also make a pretty good White Russian Cocoa, if you fancy one before we close up for today" and jasmine clapped her hands in delight, because Sam's White Russians were also legendary in the Service!