Kesley let the other newly-awakened memories filter through his mind.
"I left you," he said. "Angrily. I had myself teleported through your Barrier and into North America, where I intended to live under an assumed name and work for the overthrow of Winslow—as a start."
"Is that it?" van Alen asked. "I was never sure of your plan."
Kesley nodded. "I intended gradually to seize the Twelve Empires—and then ask you to lower your force-screen."
Van Alen smiled slowly. "Worthy of a Duke, son. But it didn't work. One of Winslow's mutant telepaths—now dead and out of circulation, happily—discovered your true identity. Word traveled fast among the Twelve Dukes that I had had a son who bore the Immortal traits. They resolved to kill you, hoping I would never have another. And you were caught, there in Winslow's own home yard. It was Daveen who rescued you. The rest you've already relearned."
Kesley nodded, calmly now. "I'm back home now, Father."
"At last. Daveen hid you so well I thought we'd never find you. Finally I decided to go myself. I found you—and lost you again."
"You're missing my point," Kesley said sharply. "I'm back home."
"And?"
"And I haven't changed my ideas."