Kesley looked around at the bare, luminescent walls, at the smiling figure of the gaunt-faced, old, blind man sitting opposite him. "Which Duke?"
"The Antarctican Duke. The man who has searched so long and patiently to bring both of us together. You see?"
"Yes," Kesley said faintly. "He brought us here. But where were you?"
"I fled from Winslow, five years past, after doing what I did. I sought refuge in Scandinavia and sang for the Duke there until Winslow's men found me and forced me to fly. I returned to North America, lived for a while at the Colony—I believe your odyssey brought you there as well—and when life there became unbearable, I vanished."
"Where? How?"
"There are ways," Daveen said. "When one knows the arts of the mind, one can do many things. I went into hiding. It was the only way for me to remain alive. Winslow sought me with desperate urgency, for I had betrayed him. Miguel had my daughter."
"I know."
"I continued to live in North America under Winslow's very nose. It was a good joke; now that I'm free, I must let Winslow know about it. He has a fine sense of the ironic."
"Where did you stay?" Kesley prodded.
"I lived in the ghetto."