The Author frowns,
condescension once more heavy on his brow. “Do I really have to
spell it out for you?” he asks.
“No,” Fiona replies
reluctantly, as understanding slowly washes through her. “Here, a
thing can have as many histories as there are stories about it.”
“Very good,” the
Author claps his hands with joy, bright smile lighting up his face.
“Now,” he continues, “Which of them owns it, and so has the
right to sell?”
“Eurymedes the
thief?” she asks, “Or Lypaxus the Liberator?”
The Author's smile
broadens further, followed by a nod of encouragement.
“Both...” Fiona
begins, then stops herself as a new thought explodes in her head.
“No,” she says, “Neither. If the God's do exist, as you seem
to say, then the bow belongs to Artemis, and is hers alone to sell.”
“Very good,” the
Author claps with excitement, “The Gods de certainly exist. Would
you like to meet them?”
