For weeks she had steeled herself for precisely this confrontation, but now they were arguing and he was winning. Effy remembered what the librarian had said to her. “You want be the first to tell his life story,” she said. “You’re—you’re just the academic equivalent of a carpetbagger.” An Argantian trying to write the narrative of a Llyrian icon’s life—of Myrddin’s life—it was so aberrant that she was at a loss for further words. “No one owns the right to tell a story,” he said flatly. “Besides, I’m not pushing any particular agenda. I’m just here for the truth.”
Wtf is wrong with her?
