”“And all this,” she said, looking faintly interested, “is a kind of imaginal reconstruction of Petra. You and I take her across the river and let her off the boat. In my first memory of my father, we are sitting on the porch, shaded from the burning sun’s assault on our struggling orchards. Toss Warren overboard, he’d sink like a stone with all the prosthetic metal he had in him.
”Dac Kien shook her head. I sat there, kind of stroking the part of the skin that was left. ”“Well, okay, hardly a coincidence. ”Ria shook her head.
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