“Novy Kievsk. This is where you can come from. It’s that little island, and there is a witch clan there, and it’s fiercer and prouder for being so small. You invent a story to explain how something’s sent you all the way south on some high purpose. When you were a little gal, you could’ve spun out a yarn like that for hours on end, and had everyone around listening and half believing every word.” “Yes, I could,” she said, and for a moment all the exhilaration of telling a story like that returned to her heart, and the old man saw the light in her eyes as she remembered it.
