ABRAMS, Inc.

The Welsh say, “She is casting rain,” not “it is raining,” and in Pwyll’s day men still knew why. Rain and sun, crops and the wombs of beasts and women, all were ruled by that old, mysterious Goddess from whose own womb all things had come in the beginning. The wild places were Hers, and the wild things were Her children.

The glory of show business is that it gives the people what they want. The glory of art is that it gives us what we never knew we wanted.

Not-Triss had to run. Everything was an enemy. She was shaking like a flag in the wind

Not-Triss managed to find her own tongue again.

‘I’m sorry.’ Her voice was still hoarse from the scream, and fluted strangely, like a breeze in a chimney flue. ‘I’m not Triss. I thought I was – I wanted to be – I tried to be – but it wasn’t good enough. I can’t be her. I’m something else, and I can’t help it. And when they found out I wasn’t their little girl, they tried to burn me. They thought it would bring their daughter back, but it won’t. It will only kill me

It is pitiable,’ murmured Mr Grace sadly, as if answering an unspoken thought. ‘Its instinct is to tug at the heart, even after the mask has slipped. Like a cuckoo trying to sing.’

There was dust in Not-Triss’s mouth, and her mind was spinning and singing like a gramophone record. The wheels of disaster had fallen foul of a rut. The unavoidable had been avoided.

I thought there was something wrong with the house at first. But then I started visiting more, getting out… and I realized it was me. Winter was following me.

As Not-Triss sat up, her hunger woke and roared, like a dragon in her belly.

She doubled over, wrapping her arms tight around her stomach. Inside her was a hole that felt big enough to swallow the whole warehouse.

She needed to eat. She needed it. Nothing else mattered.

‘But you couldn’t make me do it, Mr Architect,’ Trista whispered aloud. ‘You lost that game. I’m not your tool, and I never will be. I’m free and I’m myself, until my pieces fall into the gutter. And I’m not ready for that to happen just yet either.’

She had broken the taboo and spoken the sacred name. A shocked silence followed. Piers seemed to be having trouble breathing. Trista knew her words were harsh, but they had the bitter taste of truth. They needed to be spoken, and there was no gentle way to do that