Palamedes has about a dozen questions, but they all flee his mind as, suddenly, he is in the room, watching Camilla. The sword isn’t like the knives she prefers, or even like a cavalier’s rapier, but she handles it with grace and power all the same. Pal remains transfixed, silent, awed.

:Isn’t she beautiful?: he says, barely realizing he has spoken aloud. Then, more carefully, he asks, :What do you mean by ‘talk to her’?: This spirit makes the idea sound so easy that he doesn’t dare trust that she means what he thinks she means.