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Breathing hard, Shan let the cold wash through him, out of him. Jeren was a limp bundle in his arms, too light, too chilled to be safe there. He sucked in another breath, held it, let it go. Too close. That had been far too close. Fool that he was, he had let the Enchassa touch him, had fallen beneath her spell like a child. Only Jeren had saved them. Everyone underestimated her. And there was me thinking you might be doing a nice landscape, he said. Or a bowl of fruit. They dont teach you that at college? I like a nice colourful bowl of fruit. Something natural. All things considered, I havent seen you so happy in years, brother, said the Shaman. A different voice from Indarins, it seemed—cautious, thoughtful, deliberate. The girl is beginning to return. She takes possession of her own unconscious skin as if wriggling into a wetsuit. Graceless, she slithers her way into fleshy cul-de-sacs and dead-ends. She comes to life as if somebody were blowing air into a deflated rubber doll. She cant work out where her arms and legs should go. Cant decipher up from down. Cant remember how to breathe. Jeren ignored her.Hold her shoulders, she told Shan. “I need to pull out the knife before I can… But another voice broke through the air. Shaken and afraid, Vertigerns voice lost the veneer of cultured eloquence Jeren had grown to expect. The door to the room opened, and Karen stuck her head inside.Theyre kicking us out now, but Im not leaving. The Scholar would be the first place theyd look, so once Samara had made her withdrawal from the bank, every last penny, she headed to the centre of town. A forgotten relic from the industrial revolution, making its name from mills and canals, winding streets and alleyways composed its nucleus. Samara ducked off the main street and into one such lane, with empty beer cans smashed flat and a discarded takeout burger box blowing across the cobbles to ruin its nostalgic beauty. A flash of inspiration hit Samara, a piece of art ruined by the consumerist hunger of the modern world. She quashed the thought, envisioning the crippling cycle of creation and disappointment. Eve, shouts Derrick, and the tone of voice makes her stop and spin back, facing into a wind that carries the smells of sweat and rain and the old, newly stirred earth. As the painting had begun to take shape, Samara had caught some of the other students in the class staring. You did all this? he asks, quietly. I kept my back against the wall, gun ready as I descended slowly. The bottom opened up to a small area without spiderwebs. A light shone beneath a door in the distance. Although we were closer, the humming and sobbing was growing weaker. You decided, you mean. For everyone. Warren shook his hand and met his gaze.Its already been arranged. She flipped pages on her calendar.He has some time free next Wednesday at three. For the last time, rumbled her fathers low voice, because Ill turn this room upside down if you dont tell me: what is it, and who did you get it from?.