For whom had its sharp point been intended? Valade? Or perhaps his wife now that the girl had word of their marriage. “You can count upon me, Nigel,” she said. She had found a couple of articles about him over the years, blurbs about the opening of a theater that mentioned him. The little streaks upon the germinating area of an egg, the nervous movements of an impatient horse, the trick of a calculating boy, the senses of a fish, the fungus at the root of a garden flower, and the slime upon a sea-wet rock—ten thousand such things bear their witness and are illuminated.
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