"I don't know." She flipped a page. "This day did hunt the fox, he being a strong untiring trapper who was found with forbidden ale cached in his house, and chased him over eight mile before he went to earth in a spinney, where the dogs found him and tore him to bits. Afterwards did feed nine gods, who have drained me so I cannot see but in a fog," she read aloud. "That's your father speaking," whispered Dawvys, "He hunted a trapper last month." "But how is it down here, if it was Ewyo? The books were made many years before my grandfather was born. No one makes books now. The art is lost." "Nevertheless, I think Ewyo made this one himself. Unless it's a prophecy of the gods." He turned the book over. "What does it say on the outside?" She read it with cold grue inching up her back. "Ewyo of Dolfya, His Ledger and Record Book." "Then he did make it." "How? How could he? The art is lost!" "Many things the ruck believed have been proved false in these last hours," Dawvys said. "Perhaps the gentry's beliefs are equally wrong." She left the book and went to a desk by the oiled-paper window. A drawer was partly open. Inside was a big heap of dandelions, thick grasses, and wild parsley. She remembered Jerran's taunt, "Your father eats dandelions!" "Dawvys, why are these here?" "I don't know, Lady. I gather them and the squire eats them, but why, I can't say." There was a sound at the door. Dawvys sprang toward the brocaded hangings, too late; Ewyo thrust in his head, black rage on his features. "What in the seven hells are you doing here, Nirea?" The habits of a lifetime couldn't be overcome by a day in the presence of the Mink. She said quickly, "I saw Dawvys come in, father, and followed him." "Oh. Good for you. Dawvys, report yourself to the huntsman for a fox!" * * * * * Dawvys bowed and went out. She breathed freely; he would escape, and still she'd saved herself. What Ewyo might have done to her, she didn't know, but she feared him when he was roused. She yearned to ask him about the book and the weeds, but didn't dare. She passed him and went to the resting room, where she occupied a chair for an hour, blankly pondering the tottering of her universe. At last she stood up. She was a gentrywoman, she had guts in her belly. Why shouldn't she ask her father questions? Before she could think about it and grow scared, she went searching, and ran across her sister Jann. Jann was twenty-four, a tall ash-blonde woman with snaky amber eyes and pointed ears who lorded it over the household. "Have you seen Ewyo?" "He's in the private room." She headed for it, and Jann ran to catch at her arm. "You can't disturb him there!" "I've been in it before." Jann clawed at her. "You haven't! Even I was only there once...." "Even you. My, my." Nirea walked on, Jann tugging at her futilely. "I have to talk to him." "Stop! Damn you, you whelp, you can't--"