My heart beat faster. “What was it?” “It was a big fancy pot,” she said softly. “About this high.” She held her hand about three feet off the ground. It was shaking. “It had all sorts of writings and pictures on it. Really fancy. I haven’t ever seen colors like that. And some of the paints were shiny like silver and gold.” “Pictures of what?” I asked, fighting to keep my voice calm. “People,” she said. “Mostly people. There was a woman holding a broken sword, and a man next to a dead tree, and another man with a dog biting his leg. . . .” She trailed off. “Was there one with white hair and
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