Which was a mad story. Kysandra wasn’t sure she believed it. She gave him a surly look. ‘Are you going to fuck me?’ she asked with as much defiance as she could manage.

‘Oh, hell, no. No. Look, I know we’re officially married, but I want you to think of me as your guardian; you’re really still a child despite what the law here says. Sex isn’t part of the arrangement. I just need the farm. Okay?’

She nodded, still uncertain. ‘Okay.’ And some small bad part of her brain was asking: Why not? All the boys in town would, and most of their dads, too. She pouted. ‘Thank you. Er, what about my mother?’

‘Living above the cloth store, as agreed with Ma Ulvon. Why? Would you be happier if she moved back here?’

‘Uracus, no!’

The bacon was cooked to perfection as well. Kysandra had another large helping of eggs, then suddenly stopped and stood up, glancing nervously out of the window. The river was just visible, as were the woods on the other side. It all seemed normal. But it wasn’t, of course – it couldn’t be. ‘How long was I asleep?’

‘Nearly eighteen hours. It’s the day after we got married.’

‘Uracus! We have to leave. Now!’

‘Would you like to tell me why?’

‘Something . . . A Faller egg, but bigger, a new type, big enough to carry a whole nest of them. It came down in the woods on the other side of the river three nights ago. They’ll eat us, Nigel! I didn’t tell anyone. I know I should have done, I’m sorry, but I didn’t. I was so angry about the wedding, about everything.’

He sat at the table opposite her, hands wrapped round a mug of tea. His smile was reassuring. ‘Ah. Yes. Don’t worry. Actually, that wasn’t from the Forest. It’s not a Faller invasion. You’re safe.’

Her skin chilled as she looked at him. Slowly, slowly, she tensed her leg muscles, ready to make a dash for the door. Is the shotgun back in its cabinet? Has he found it?

‘Now try and keep calm,’ Nigel said. ‘This is the biggie coming up: that thing you saw land was my spaceship.’

‘Riiiight—’ Kysandra sprinted as fast as she could in those stupid bloomers. Straight through the hall and out into the compound. The ground with its small sharp stones stung and cut her bare feet, but she didn’t stop. Refused to let the pain distract her. Ahead was the gate in the sagging fence round the overgrown garden. Except the vegetable garden was now in good order, with the soil beds freshly dug. Someone was kneeling to sort out the tangle of runner beans on their bamboo canes. Someone dressed in simple dungarees and a rust-red T-shirt. Someone who was standing up and turning to face her. And his face was—

Kysandra screamed and lost her footing, tumbling over in a flurry of flailing arms. Pain shot up both knees.

‘Are you okay?’

She looked round fearfully. Nigel was coming out of the house, his expression full of concern. She looked from him to the thing by the vegetables. It was human shaped, but its face – it was completely devoid of any characteristics. Like an adult-size doll, she thought. Waiting to take someone’s identity. ‘Fallers,’ she cried. ‘You’re Fallers!’

‘Kysandra, please,’ Nigel said. And his shell softened to let her perceive his thoughts; the genuine compassion, and more, a trace of amusement at her reaction.

A spark of anger fired into her brain. ‘You think I’m a crudding joke?’ she shouted.

‘No. I think you’re holding up well . . . given the circumstances. How do you think Akstan would react? I met him, remember. I think he’d have fainted clean away by now.’

‘You’re going to eat me!’

Nigel sighed, and knelt down beside her. ‘No, Kysandra. I’m not going to eat you. I’m human, just like you.’

She twisted her head round to look fearfully at the doll-man. ‘That’s not.’

‘No. It’s not. It’s what we call an ANAdroid. It’s a machine. Biological, but manufactured. Think of it as a giant mod-dwarf, just a little smarter.’

‘Oh, thank you,’ the doll-man said. Its pale lips curved up, approximating a smile. ‘I apologize if my appearance startled you. I assure you I am not hostile. Nigel is correct, I am a biological machine.’

Kysandra started crying.

‘Come on,’ Nigel said kindly. ‘Let’s get you back inside. Those cuts need cleaning.’

Kysandra stared up helplessly at him as he stood above her. She was all out of fight. I can’t stop them. I’m already dead. So she didn’t resist when he picked her up and carried her back inside.

As he walked back to the house she saw another of the doll-men up on the roof, fixing the shingle. There is no escape.

Nigel put her down on the settee in what had originally been the dining room until her father had covered the walls with shelves which he filled with his treasured books. The room hadn’t been refurbished yet. Somehow that made the worn cushions she lay on quite comforting. She’d often sat on this same settee with her father when he read to her.

A mod-dwarf brought in a small green bag with a white cross on the top. Nigel knelt beside her and put an old towel underneath her heels. Kysandra watched dully. Blood was staining the bottom of the bloomers, and her feet were a mess, too.

Nigel took a slim tube from the bag. ‘This may sting for a moment,’ he warned. Kysandra shrugged. The tube hissed as he brought it close to the torn skin on her soles. He moved it in a strange motion as if he was painting her feet.

He was right: it did sting. She sucked down some air sharply at the biting sensation. Then her feet became numb.

‘Antiseptic and a mild anaesthetic,’ Nigel said quietly. ‘Let’s see, the dermsynth should work here.’ He took out another tube.

Kysandra peered down curiously now, just in time to see a faint blue mist spray out of the second cylinder. The substance stuck to her skin, flowing over it and foaming to form a thin, even layer.

‘Good. I was worried the Void wouldn’t permit that.’

‘What?’

‘The Void inhibits a whole range of electrical functions. I didn’t know if it would affect the dermsynth. But that’s mostly a biochemical reaction.’

‘Oh.’ She didn’t really understand.

‘I need to get the fabric clear from your knees.’

Kysandra realized he was asking permission. ‘Whatever.’

His teekay ripped through the bloomers’ cotton as if it was air.

Faller teekay is stronger than ours.

Then he was spraying the stuff from the first tube on her gashes. Her knees stung, then there was nothing again. She let out a sigh of relief. The blue substance was applied. It was like a layer of skin, but tougher.

‘There we go,’ he said happily. ‘All finished now. The dermsynth will help regenerate your own skin. It’ll peel off when it’s done. Couple of days, maybe.’

‘Right.’

‘Kysandra.’

‘Yes?’

‘Have you ever seen anything like that before?’

‘No,’ she admitted.

He gestured round at the books which surrounded them. ‘I’ve had a bit of a crash course in your history the last two days. Mainly I’ve been learning about the Fallers. But, tell me, do you know that humans came to Bienvenido from another place?’

‘Yes, of course.’ Kysandra nodded at the five thick Landing Chronicles – she’d read every one. ‘Captain Cornelius brought us here in his ship.’

‘Good. Okay. Then is it too much to ask you to believe I came from the same place as that first ship?’

In her mind, the image of the boat-bird falling through the night sky was very clear. She stubbornly refused to admit anything, but her racing thoughts were chaotic, surging with so many conflicting emotions. She could not let hope dominate. Hope betrayed her every time. That he’d flown to Bienvenido was too much to believe. It would be wonderful, though.

‘Is it at least possible?’ Nigel persisted.

‘I suppose so.’ Flying through space is in the books, it’s real history, so we used to be able to do it. ‘But—’