“It’s not there because he’s not human!” Dion said sharply. “He’s a creature of Darkness. He’s a spider, for the Light’s sake.” “But he’s not, not anymore,” Cyrene told her soberly. “What Penthos started, we’ve all continued. When you look at him now, you see all the pieces of human that we’ve sewn onto him.” It was, Dion thought, a profoundly horrible metaphor. “Then he’s like one of those insect things, that builds itself a house of stones and leaves to hide in. But it’s still the insect underneath. It’s just a blind, so that it can fool its prey.”
