He got up and paced, then stood squarely before her.
"So tell me this, Elonna Dorsett. What do you plan to do about it?"
She hesitated.
"Anything I can." She had a strange sensation as she said the words: a sand castle on a beach, broken and swept away by the waves. But maybe if there was a stone in its center, hard and sharp and black…..
"Well, at least you're no spy." He said it matter-of-factly, as if the question had been understood between them. "And you've a bit of spunk. Not much perhaps, but a bit." He winked at her halfheartedly, the graying father once more. "You must be tired."
"Yes."
He led her to the second chamber, gave her a thin mat against the hard floor, which he placed a short distance from his own. Then he fetched the boy out from between consoles, and set him on the mat beside her. He extinguished all but a soft bluish light, and lay down himself. He turned away.
"Who are you?" she asked quietly.
"I used to be a minister." Again the short, bitter laugh. "Now I don't know who I am. Just don't call me Moses."
He said no more, and they slept.
*