It wailed at Lucy, chubby arms reaching towards her, pleading. And then amusement crept into Alderley’s chest and he let his pistol hand fall. He looked distant, irritated. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. But I do not know you at all, in truth, and I do not understand why you do this. The same pale white buttocks, the same freckles in the same unchanging patterns on her collarbone that all of her mother’s potions had never been able to erase. And if you’ve any notion—’ ‘Yes, it is upstairs,’ Melusine agreed, crossing to the library door. I want to make myself visible to you. She ignored it until it repeated itself.
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