Don’t ask me how. She saw the moonlit waters, the black shadow of the proa, the moon-fire that ran down the far edge of the bellying sail, the silent natives: no sound except the slapping of the outrigger and the low sibilant murmur of water falling away from the sides—and the beating of her heart. She backed away, amazed as the thing buzzed loudly in the center of the room. “Don’t you know?” “Oh! I know—” “Well—” Her face was an unaccustomed pink. " "You read those yarns?" Spurlock's head came about, and there was eagerness in his eyes. Shotbolt nodded in token of acquiescence, and emitted an odd guttural sound. ‘What are you going to do now, child?’ Melusine sighed away the last of her distress.
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