She stood like only a hunted thing could, somehow managing to blend in with rock and wicker, and looking as if she were about to bolt. But for her pale face and dark hair, she was brightness. She might be tromping through this shit field as deeply as he, but she did not stink of it. She was clean and clear and better than all this. Jamie had not met many people who were better than the things they were doing. People’s sunken lives generally reflected sunken hearts. But Eva was bright and clear, like a little star. “I was not sure if you would try to run,” he said as he drew near. They started walking. She sniffed. “You may yet prove passing helpful in retrieving Father Peter.” He snorted. “You vastly underestimate your use of the word may. And passing. And helpful.” “If we must indeed assail people with swords and other sharp things,” she explained stiffly, “you shall prove passing useful. If, however, we must sidle up like stealthy things, perhaps your big and bold arrogance will bedevil us all, Jamie.”
