Feeling at peace, however fragilely, made it easy to slip into the visionary end of the dark-sight. The rose shadows said that they loved the sun, but that they also loved the dark, where their roots grew through the lightless mystery of the earth. The roses said: You do not have to choose.

It was too important a matter, this talking to people, and listening to them, to do it lightly or often.

Betrayal would be a different sort of sick.

Can't all beasts be tamed?

Can you trust me, he said. Not will you. Can you. Can I trust him? What do I have to lose?

But I'm going to try to tell the truth. Except for the parts I'm leav­ing out, because there's still stuff I'm just not going to tell you. Get used to it.

Tsornin's nostrils showed red, but his ears were as alert as ever, and occasionally he would rub his nose gently against the nape of her neck, just in case she was momentarily not thinking about him.