—Though if my name should become as famous as theirs, it wouldn't much matter. What's it like, Joan?" "It's a small key, with curiously-fashioned wards. Her eyes were insane with rage, crusted with yellow and green, only beginning to heal from her long sojourn underground. The larger problem at hand was drugging her foster sister, Shari, into a deep sleep. He tried this sentence with expletives. She would be haunted by the visions of their mad faces in her dreams for the next hundred years. ‘This idiotic female—’ ‘This imbecile has made me—’ ‘—made me lose my temper, and I—’ ‘—cut him with my dagger, and he is—’ ‘—damn near slit her throat!’ ‘—bleeding like a pig!’ ‘Whoa, whoa!’ stormed the captain, starting forward. “You’re self-taught, aren’t you, Lucy?” She looked around the table, all eyes upon her.
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