It was not yet dawn when they came for her. Veris stumbled from her bed into an early-morning sea, deep blue light submerging the little house with no hint of sun; she swam, it seemed, to the lamp in the hall, and lit it with a wavery half-smothered match; she swam down the stairs. The front door rattled in its frame with each blow, paint and shreds of wood flaking from it, as if the unseen callers were not knocking but rushing at it with a battering ram. It was locked from the inside, but the bolts and bars were beginning to give as she approached. She unlocked it hastily, cursing and
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