How lovely, Lafayette thought dreamily, to be lying in a big, soft bed, warm and cozy and without a problem in the world.

Yes, indeed, a whispery voice said soothingly.  Now just relax and let your mind rove back over the events of the last few weeks.  Back to your first meeting with him.  That was... where -

With who?  Lafayette inquired offhandedly.  Or with whom?  He wasn't greatly interested.  It was so much nicer just to let it all slide away on a sea of black whipped cream...

Tell me! the voice persisted, more urgently.  Where is he now?  And where is it?  Speak!

Sorry, Lafayette replied.  I'm not in the mood for riddles right now.  Why not go find someone else to play with?  I just want to doze a little longer, and then Daphne will bring me a cup of coffee and tell me about all the nice things planned for the day, starting with breakfast on the balcony....

He paused for a moment in these pleasant reflections to wonder what day it was.  Sunday?  Possibly - but it didn't seem like Sunday, somehow.  And there was something else nagging at the corner of his mind, now that he thought about it.  Something he was supposed to do -

He tried to ignore the intruding thought and snuggle back into the dream; but the damage had been done.  He was waking up in spite of himself, in spite of a subconscious instinct that told him that the longer he slept the better he'd like it...

He opened his eyes, was looking up at a canopy of what appeared to be woven grass and leaves.

"Ah, awake so soon?" a brisk, cheery voice inquired at close range.  "What about a spot of breakfast, then?"

Lafayette turned his head; a round, wizened face beamed down at him.

"Who -" Lafayette croaked, and cleared his throat, occasioning a sharp throb at the back of his skull.  "Who are you?"

"I?  Well, as to that - you may call me Lom.  Quite.  Good a name as any, what?  And what do you say to Bavarian ham, eggs Benedict, oatmeal bread - lightly toasted - with unsalted Danish butter and a spot of lime marmalade; and coffee, of course.  It's New Orleans style: I hope you don't mind a bit of chicory?"

"Don't tell me," Lafayette whispered, salivating profusely.  "I've died and gone to wherever well-intentioned sinners go."

"Not at all, my dear sir."  Lafayette's host chuckled gently.  "You've taken a bit of a tumble, but we'll soon have you right as rain."

"Fine - but... where am I?"  Lafayette raised his head, saw the rough walls of a lean-to made of sticks, and beyond the doorway the bright sunshine of a spring morning.

"Why, you're sharing my humble quarters," Lom said.  "I apologize for the somewhat primitive accommodations, but one does the best one can with the resources at hand, eh?"

"Haven't we met before?  Your voice seems familiar."