‘Gracious, no! I am only going to stab the sleeper a bit, to see if he wakes up.’
‘We are standing on his face,’ Phineas reminded her.
‘So you do believe me!’
‘Whether I do or not,’ said Phineas steadily, ‘if you are right, we are standing on his face. Are you sure you want him to wake up?’
‘I am persuaded we will not much rouse him. He has practically taken root here.’
Phineas raised a disapproving brow, but he did produce a short knife from one of his pockets, and handed it to her. ‘Stab away.’
Ilsevel immediately sank the point of the knife into the maybe-face, not too far from the possible-eye.
Perhaps she had not truly believed in her own surmise, for when the eye snapped open, revealing a pale-blue eyeball the size of a four-horse carriage, she squeaked and took a great jump b
