Excerpt
andldquo;You didnandrsquo;t mean to what?andrdquo; he asked sternly, towering over me, the ends of his long nightshirt billowing lightly. andldquo;You didnandrsquo;t mean to find the stone among the millions of stones?andrdquo;
andldquo;Well . . .andrdquo;
andldquo;You didnandrsquo;t mean to then plant the stone?andrdquo; he continued, not even giving me a second to even answer.
andldquo;I . . .andrdquo;
andldquo;It was by mistake that you harvested it?andrdquo; he said scornfully. andldquo;And then, quite by accident, that you raised it and then let it loose?andrdquo;
andldquo;Well, when you put it that way, it does sort of make me look bad.andrdquo;
My dad massaged his forehead as if there were a tattoo there he was hoping to rub off.
andldquo;Beck,andrdquo; he sighed.
andldquo;Dad,andrdquo; I said manipulatively.
andldquo;This is on your head,andrdquo; he whispered. andldquo;What the queen pillages will be the work of her talons and your hands.andrdquo;