“Don’t you call him evil—or me either! We’ve never hurt anybody yet, beyond lifting a little food or a trinket. And besides, who the hell are you to talk! Anybody as handy with a picklock as you are has had plenty of practice....”
Mouse paused for breath, and Ciaran got a look at the hermit’s face. His stomach quivered. He tried to shut Mouse up, but she was feeling better and beginning to enjoy herself. She plunged into a detailed analysis of the hermit’s physique and heredity. She had a vivid and inventive mind.
Ciaran finally got his hand over her mouth, taking care not to get bitten. “Nice going,” he said, “but we’ve got to get out of here. You can finish later.”
She started to heel his shins, and then quite suddenly she stopped and stiffened up under his hands. She was looking at t
