"It's the Queen's what?" I ask.Copperman hurries over, grabbing my arm."It's the Queen herself!" he exclaims, dragging me forward severaldecileagues. ...y the time I pull my arm free, we are standing next toHoskin, kneeling next to a crumpled figure, wearing a woman's version ofour uniform, though it is torn and bloody. Hoskin is as white as mygranny's pantaloons.I close my eyes and cock my head to the side. I can hear men coming fromthe direction of rebel territory and they aren't far away. * *. ‘Fear not, little dove. The mind knows to listen not only to the voice, but also to the soul. There is no language for the soul, we all speak the same, hear the same and feel the same, if we open ourselves to it.’ Standing still, looking into his eyes in amazement, you realize you knew all along that souls could communicate, but that your educated mind had simply refused to listen. Now you eagerly let down the barrier between you and open your mind and soul to him. He twirls the feather in. More

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