“What I don’t understand,” Chumley said, “is why she informed us of the situation via that missive. Wouldn’t she be better off unopposed?”
“Don’t you know a challenge when you see one, big brother?” Tananda sighed. “Gauntlets are out of style, so she’s giving us the finger.”
“You all seem ta have a higher opinion of Queenie than I do,” Massha spoke up. “Ta me, it looks more like an invitation to a trap. As I recall, old Hemlock wasn’t too well disposed toward us when we split. For all we know, her plan may have already run its course … in which case we get to be the featured entertainment at the victory celebration.”
That hadn’t occurred to me. I seemed to be missing a lot lately.
“You may be right, Massha,” I said. “Under the best of circumstances, I’m not sure there’s anything that can be done. That’s why I’m putting it up for discussion. It’s my home dimension, and I was the one who contributed to the problem, so my judgment is biased. In many ways, it’s a personal problem. I can’t expect anyone else to . . .”
“You’re talking it to death, Hot Stuff,” Massha interrupted. “You’re our peerless leader, for better or worse. Just go for it. We’ll be right behind you.”
I shook my head and held up a restraining hand.
“It’s not that simple. First of all, I don’t want this to be a group commitment where a dissenting individual has to be an exception or go along with something they don’t agree with. That’s why I was calling for individual volunteers . . . with no stigma attached to anyone who doesn’t want to sign up. Second …”