Zidarov remembered how she’d been. So buttoned-up, so coldly furious.

‘She was the one that got this rolling,’ he said. ‘She called me in.’

‘Sure, if you say so, but she hated Adeard. Whenever he was close to getting anywhere, she stuck her hand in. I don’t know if she wanted to ruin him. Maybe she was trying to make him better, too, in her own way. But it wasn’t done from love. Make of that what you will.’

Zidarov thought back to his impressions of the first meeting. He thought back to the sense he’d had, right from the start, that this was some kind of sham, some kind of set-up.

‘It makes things look rather different,’ he said.

‘I’m sure it does.’

‘Does Udmil know you know all this?’

‘No idea. But don’t worry for me, probator. I’m quite safe here.’

‘Really? These people are powerful.’

‘Not so powerful that they can’t somehow mislay a child.’

Zidarov chuckled. Against all expectation, he found that he liked this missionary. ‘I’m going to have to do some more digging. Other things are happening, strange things. I have a feeling strings have been pulled, and I don’t like it.’ He got up. ‘You’ve been a great help, sister. Can I call on you again, if I need to?’

‘Of course.’ She remained sitting, her legs kicking under the cot’s edge. ‘But I suspect you have what you need, now.’

Zidarov looked at her. ‘There’s just one thing, I guess. I know you and Adeard weren’t… like that, but, still, he was a young man. I don’t know why he opened up, quite so much, to you. I mean, he was shallow, they tell me. The gap…’

Elina smiled, again with that rueful look in her eyes. ‘The age gap, you mean? That wouldn’t have mattered to him, not for what we wanted from one another. But you never asked me why I came back here, when I had the life I wanted, down there. See, probator, I’m exactly the age he is. I could go to those parties, back then, and I’d fit right in.’ She sighed, and pressed her hand on the coverlet, palms down. ‘It’s a cruel disease, Scila’s Syndrome. I’ve probably got a couple of years left. By then I’ll look eighty, I reckon.’

Zidarov found himself staring, and looked down at his feet. ‘Ah. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.’