‘Something wrong, madame?’ Her fan came up swiftly, hiding the lower part of her face. Melusine shrugged. Only three days. Spurlock understood that his vantage would be temporary; the Wastrel had been knocked down, not out. She was wholly unable to conceal her knowledge of his presence. A forgotten island beyond the ship lanes, where that grim Hand would falter and move blindly in its search for him! From what he had read, there wouldn't be much to do; and in the idle hours he could write. These were less like streets than labyrinths, hewn through an eternal twilight. A live man.
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