Ah, straight to the point. (He shouldn't be surprised any more, he really shouldn't. He'd have done much the same.) After permitting himself one more good sip of mead, he clutches the cup between his hands. And fixes his younger self with those familiar gray eyes. Bright, sharp, and intense. Five years couldn't dim that, no matter what happened.

"Three years from your current time," he says, "our brother is going to pose as us and take control of the Dendarii. In order to save a creche of clone children on Jackson's Whole. It's not going to go well."