She was right; she was right, of course, and more fool Baru for not having said it first—the Taranoke of her childhood was gone, had probably never existed; Halae’s Reef had never cut the waves like smooth shark teeth, the water had never lapped that clear on luscious black sand. Pinion had not known the name of every star and Solit had never held her up to count them for an entire night and Salm had—ah, no, better not to think of that while drunk, not at all.
