His was a mild and quiet face, an oval surface with no hint of distinctiveness until he started his vocal routines. Then the warping began. It was an eerie thing to see, shamefully fascinating, as a seizure might be if witnessed in a controlled environment. He tucked his head into his trunk, narrowed his eyes, made grimacing humanoid faces. When it

A stylized, toreador-Elvis look, full of bruised machismo and oversensitivity, bewildered surrender.

His own safety requires the Voice. He already has a good start in it, but we both know how much more he needs… and that desperately.”

None of them could see Vin, they could only see the face she had put on—the face she wanted them to see. They saw Lady Valette. It was as if Vin weren’t there. As if … she were hiding, hiding right in front of their eyes.