“Other signs . . . one of them is supposed to have eyes like a goat, or no eyes, or black eyes. I’ve heard that one quite a bit. I’ve heard that plants die when the Chandrian are around. Wood rots, metal rusts, brick crumbles. . . .” He paused. “Though I don’t know if that’s several signs, or all one sign.” “You begin to see the trouble I’m having,” my father said morosely. “And there’s still the question as to if they all share the same signs, or have a couple each.” “I’ve told you,” my mother said, exasperated. “One sign for each of them. It makes the most sense.”
