It shook its head quickly. ‘It was not to be. She proved intransigent. I hoped to persuade her - to shame her, indeed - by the very totality of my concern for her, re-creating all you see here,’ the avatar said, glancing round at the cliffs, marsh, tower and waters, ‘for real; turning my entire outer envelope into a habitat just for her and the creatures she loved.’ Amorphia gave a sort of dipping sideways nod, and smiled. ‘I admit I had another purpose as well, which such exaggerated compassion would only help disguise, but the fact is my original design was to create an environment she would feel comfortable within and into which she would feel safe bringing her baby, having seen the care I was prepared to lavish just on her.’ The avatar gave a rueful smile. ‘I got it wrong,’ it admitted. ‘I was wrong twice and each time I harmed Dajeil. You are - and this is - my last chance to get it right.’

‘And what am I supposed to do?’

‘Why, just talk to her!’ the avatar cried, holding its arms out (and, suddenly, Genar-Hofoen was reminded of Ulver).

‘What if I won’t play along?’ he asked.

‘Then you may get to share my fate,’ the ship’s representative told him breezily. ‘Whatever that may be. At any rate, I may keep you here until you do at least agree to talk to her, even if - for that meeting to take place - I have to ask her to return after I’ve sent her away to safety.’

‘And what is likely to be your fate?’

‘Oh, death, possibly,’ the avatar said, shrugging with apparent unconcern.

The man shook his head. ‘You haven’t got any right to threaten me like that,’ he said, with a sort of half-laugh in his voice he hoped didn’t sound as nervous as he felt.