Anything. “Nigel, don’t you understand. Am I so forgettable?” He strode down the hall as she ran to catch up with him past lockers someone had painted an abysmal shade of gray blue. Sometimes it seemed to him that he was an impostor: that Ruth believed him to be one Howard Spurlock, when he was only masquerading as Spurlock. And this was an adventure of which he had dreamed from boyhood: aboard a windjammer on the South Seas. “So you’d best open your coffers. ‘Jacques, do not die while I am gone. EPOCH THE FIRST, 1703.
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