A letter came to me at work today. The envelope was thick vellum with a green wax seal, and lovely calligraphy. It was like the Queen's letter, but normal-sized, and it was from Lord Fallamhain. I showed it to Jayne before I opened it, and she turned quite green.

She threw it in the trash before I could open it, and told me I was not to associate with him at all. It was the trash under her desk, and she guarded it like a surly dragon, so I wasn't able to get at it all day.

I don't like what I've heard of the man, but surely I should be able to read my own mail! It's like people don't want me to know things, first the- first my sources, and now Jayne.

Well, I want to know everything, not just what they see fit to show me. And it was my letter.

So when I took the trash out at the end of the day I put it through the copier upstairs before throwing it away. So when Jayne asked- and she did, the nosy hag- I could say quite truthfully that I had thrown it away without reading it.

Who does she think she is, my mother?