Over breakfast, Connie dared to broach a potentially controversial topic of conversation. "Is it true that the last peacekeeper was evicted from the settlement?" Her parents exchanged wide-eyed glances before turning their stares on Connie. "Some of the other kids mentioned it," she added vaguely.

Mrs Maheshwaran briefly narrowed her eyes. When Connie had returned home from the windmill after dark, her mom had briefly interrogated her as to where she had been. Connie's explanation that she had simply lost track of time was accepted at face value, but she had the impression that this was only because her mother had other things on her mind at the time. Now, she had to be careful not to say anything which could implicate PeeDee or Ronaldo.

"I wouldn't pay too much heed to what those children say," Priyanka advised. "I doubt they know the whole story."

"But if it happened before we got here," Connie insisted, "anything they do know about it is going to be more than I know... about it." She trailed off, suddenly losing confidence. "I don't know anything," she mumbled.

"You're forgetting your father's and my positions in relation to the civic administration. We are completely up to date on the situation. Believe me, anyone who's been moved on from this settlement recently has been up to no good, and left the gems with no other option."

Connie looked to her father. "Does this happen a lot? I can't remember you ever mentioning anything like it."

"There's a... unique situation in this settlement," Doug sighed. "I can't really go into it."

Connie spread some more preserve on her piece of bread and took another bite. They ate in silence for a few moments.

"It's just a shame," Connie continued, "because it seems as if some people in the settlement have gotten a bit jumpy. I guess when people don't have the full story, their imaginations start running wild."

"Connie," Priyanka interrupted, "it would be a big help if you could prepare your own lunch today."

Connie took the hint and crammed the remaining crust of bread into her mouth as she made her way to the pantry.

On her way to the education centre, Connie was poised on the lookout for any sign of Zircon or her flunkies. As it turned out, though, the next gem she saw was another Amethyst.

After a quiet morning's lessons, she had agreed to stay with Mrs Lezner for some pianoforte practice over lunch. The teacher sat to one side as Connie completed the piece she had been learning.

"You're doing well, Connie," Mrs Lezner told her once she had finished. "But you need to commit yourself to the music. Whenever you hesitate because you're worried about playing the wrong note, that throws off the rhythm of the song. Trust your instincts and don't be afraid of making mistakes."

Connie nodded silently. It was good advice in that it was accurate, but bad in that it forced her to confront the possibility of an underlying flaw in her character.

Before she could dwell on this further, there was a heavy knock at the door, which was then unceremoniously barrelled open without waiting for a response. "Got a present for you folks," the Amethyst called out, brandishing a book.

Connie instinctively looked away for fear of being recognised and giving the game away — a fear which she immediately realised was nonsensical on at least two levels. She looked up again and regarded the Amethyst, wondering if it could be the same one who had escorted them to the settlement all those weeks ago. Probably not, she decided.

"A new book of music?" Mrs Lezner stood up to receive the delivery from the gem. "How wonderful. It seems so soon since the last one. Thank you, Amethyst."

"Eh, no problem, chief," the Amethyst grinned. "I'm delivering these to a whole bunch of settlements today."

"Do you happen to know whether they might send anyone to tune the pianoforte? It's been such a long time and the lower octaves have become rather dissonant."

The Amethyst was dubious. "It's not really my department, you're pro'lly best asking your civic leader. I mean, I can try and ask about it..."

Mrs Lezner bowed her head. "Please don't put yourself to any undue trouble."

"Right, enjoy!" The gem made her exit, slamming the door as forcefully as she had opened it. There was a muffled thud as she presumably applied the same treatment to the main door of the building.

Mrs Lezner turned the book over in her hands and examined it. The text on the front read Sonatas 211-220. "Oh, dear," she mused. "I wonder if they're as difficult as the last lot." She set up the book on the music stand and opened it to the first piece. "I'm always careful to be polite when they bring us these, but quite frankly I've never been able to get the knack of them. The woman who taught me how to play, she was a natural talent, but I was never at the same level."

Connie peered at the staves. "It keeps changing key and time signature," she observed. Cautiously, she picked out the first few notes with her right hand. With some correction from Mrs Lezner, she rote-learned the sequence of the first page, replete with triplets and sudden jumps in octave. "Can you tap out the rhythm?" she asked Mrs Lezner.

With the convoluted time signatures in place, a deceptively simple melody began to emerge from the chaos. "Start again," Mrs Lezner told her, "and I'll try playing the left hand." It was a repeating sequence of four arpeggios, one of which sounded totally at odds with the others and caused several false starts. However, with some trial and error they got through the first page, and the bass notes began to complement the treble in an elegant call-and-response.

Connie exhaled, simultaneously impressed and exasperated. "How can they make something so simple into something so complicated? Or... or the other way round?"

"It's very clever," Mrs Lezner agreed. "Perhaps we should practice some more of it next time. It could be manageable as a duet."

Connie picked up the book and flipped through its pages. "Are these songs composed by Pink Diamond?" she asked, indicating the title page.

"I don't think so. It only says that Pink Diamond was the patron. So that means it couldn't have been written without her, but not that she herself wrote it."

The sound of the classroom door opening brought home a realisation that the lunch break had been going on for an unusually long time. PeeDee and a couple of other kids hesitantly entered the room.

"Is something wrong?" Mrs Lezner asked. "Where are the others?"

"There's a bit of a commotion going on outside," PeeDee explained. "Some gems have gone into Onion's house, and nobody's sure where he is."

"Good heavens." Mrs Lezner stood up, disquieted. "Well, we should carry on as normal. I mean, we should carry on as if... but I don't have my class," she trailed off, murmuring to herself. Pulling herself together, she addressed Connie. "Please, go with the others and make sure everybody stays out of trouble. If they can't make it back here, they should go home and sit tight."

Outside the building, the other kids ran ahead as Connie turned to PeeDee, exasperated. "They raided Onion's house and you didn't tell me!?"

"I did," PeeDee pointed out, "just now."

This was a valid point and took some of the wind out of Connie's sails. "Well, if I'd known sooner maybe I could have done something. We should find Onion, at least. Do you think he's all right? Would they find anything to incriminate him?"

"I don't think so, but who knows with that kid."

The majority of people they saw on their way through the settlement were pointedly minding their own business, but there were a few curious souls lingering in the streets adjacent to Connie's home. Some of them stared at Connie in a manner that was not entirely friendly. PeeDee led her past them to where some of the other kids were stationed by the street corner.

"They came back out of the house," one of the girls explained. "Onion's mom turned up and was just staring at them, but the gems just left and then she went inside."

"So the gems have gone?" PeeDee asked.

"No, they went up the street to Connie's house."

"WHAT?" Connie exclaimed.

"They're probably talking with your dad," PeeDee pointed out.

"Oh. Yeah, I suppose so." She looked at the houses in whose shelter they were standing. "If we cut through the allotments of these houses, we might be able to see."

Carefully, the group traipsed between houses until they were close enough to Connie's house to have a decent view without too much risk of being spotted.

PeeDee peered out. "I see one of those Jaspers. She's outside the front door."

Connie took a look for herself. A tall, broad gem was indeed blocking the main entrance to the house. "There are two, right? I bet the other one's round the back."

"Top secret stuff," PeeDee agreed. "You should try and get in."

Connie wheeled round. "What!?"

He shrugged. "Maybe you could find out what happened in Onion's house."

A quiet debate broke out amongst the other students. "No way will they let her in." "They might!" "I dare you!" "Connie's not one of them." "Says who?" "Double dare you!"

"All right," Connie said, holding a hand up to silence them. "Fine, I'll go." She glared at PeeDee, but he was looking across the road again.

There was the slimmest of chances that she might be able to learn something. But in the moment, it seemed more important to be seen not being allowed in. It would help dispel any suspicions her classmates had of her being somehow complicit in what had happened.

She edged out from her hiding spot, and walked slowly across the road and toward her house. Already the Jasper was glowering at Connie with a forbidding stare, and she had to ignore her own instincts in order to continue. As she set foot on her front path, the orange gem folded her arms menacingly. Connie slowed her already-glacial pace as she concluded her inexorable approach.

Before Connie could say anything, the Jasper loomed dangerously over her. "Get outta here, squirt."

Connie inwardly cursed the other children for putting her in this situation. "What's going on?" she asked, staring somewhere to the right of the Jasper for fear of making eye contact.

"None of your business. Nobody goes in until our work is finished."

Reluctantly, Connie protested. "But... I live here."

The burly gem leaned down on Connie until they were almost nose-to-nose. "You live here," she said, "because we let you live here. And right now, we're not letting you live here. So for the final time: get outta here. SCRAM."

Connie backed away with as much dignity as she could muster, and shuffled rapidly back to the other kids. "It's, uh, it's not happening," she told PeeDee, a quaver in her voice. "We should leave. I'm going for a walk."

"But we don't know what's going on," PeeDee objected.

"Going for a walk," Connie abruptly repeated as she strode off.

Her heart was racing. After she had gained some distance from the house, she managed to slow her pace to merely brisk. The intimidation she had felt was gradually being supplanted by a quiet rage.

How could that gem speak to her like that? When she wasn't even doing anything wrong? Until today, Connie had never met a gem who didn't treat her with basic common courtesy. But that Jasper had spoken to her as if she was nothing, a serf. The whole point of being ruled by the Diamond Authority should have been that unlike the old human leaders, nobody would abuse their power. And yet here was living proof that elements of the Authority saw humanity as nothing more than a nuisance.

She gritted her teeth. The entitlement! The sheer arrogance!

She had arrived back at the education centre. Mastering her emotions, she made her way back to the classroom, which was still deserted apart from the teacher, who was still studying the new music book.

"Mrs Lezner? I don't think the other students are coming back today. I was wondering if I could spend some time in the library?"

"That's fine," Mrs Lezner said, distracted. "Here, take my key." Connie accepted the proffered key, and upon letting herself in to the library, surreptitiously locked the door behind her.

The typesetting machine sat in the corner, its levers beckoning her. She looked up at the stack of blank paper on the shelf. Would they miss a sheet?

Perhaps it would be best not to make things worse by stealing. She reached into her pocket and retrieved the folded scrap of wallpaper she was still carrying. Smoothing the paper out to the best of her ability, she carefully fed it into the machine. Next, it was time to figure out how the device worked. Repeatedly pressing the letter buttons made one of the wheels rotate, but nothing else seemed to happen. After pressing the 'D' button enough times, the wheel came to a halt. So if that meant she had successfully selected the letter D, how did she type the next letter? Furthermore, why had it started in the middle of a row?

Some further investigation revealed a slider which allowed the user to select each wheel in turn. Starting again, she moved the slider to the leftmost wheel and began choosing letters. The whole process was rather more cumbersome than she would have liked. Between each word it was necessary to select a blank spot on the wheel, and she quickly realised she would have to do the same thing for every left-over wheel at the end of the line.

Finally, she gave an experimental tug on the largest lever. The row of wheels moved down slightly. Pulling the lever down hard, she pressed the wheels down onto the paper. Then she slid the paper up to examine her handiwork.

Nothing. It was still blank.

Baffled, she pulled the paper back out of the machine, and realised her mistake. Instead of the wheels themselves inking the paper, they pushed the paper down and inked it on the other side. Having not understood this, she had marked the patterned side of the wallpaper. Consequently, the text was also in reverse. She was going to have to start the whole thing again from scratch, this time starting from the right. Compounding her mistakes, she had also pulled the lever too hard and the ink had spread into illegible blobs.

"Who designed this thing?" she muttered, frustrated. This was taking a lot more time than she had expected, and it would be best to leave soon before anybody wondered what she was doing.

Trying to meld speed and precision, she re-loaded the paper the right way round, and began again. Fortunately, the printing procedure didn't take as long now that she had almost figured it out. She pulled the main lever, less vigorously this time, and let the paper sit for a few moments in case the ink was still wet.

Now, gingerly, she pulled the paper loose and flipped it over. There, in mercifully clear letters, were the words:

'DEAR PINK DIAMOND,'

It was a start. After verifying it was dry, she folded the paper up and put it away.

After a moment's thought, she returned to the machine and manually spun all of the letter wheels until they were all jumbled up.

Mrs Lezner was still playing snippets of music when Connie emerged. "It looks like the 216th sonata is the same as the 215th, only played in reverse. I've an idea there's a name for that."

"Here," said Connie, holding out the key. "I'm guessing none of the others came back?"

Mrs Lezner glanced at the light coming through the windows. "It appears not. Still, quite fortuitous timing when it's allowed me to take a proper look at this new book." She turned back to the pianoforte. "Just imagine, being able to create something so beautiful it becomes known in every settlement."

"I expect they're all worried about Onion," Connie continued, flatly.

Mrs Lezner let out a quiet sigh, staring at the keyboard before turning her head to face Connie. "Worrying does nobody any good," she said. "We've been granted the gift of not needing to worry about the future. Everything is planned out. I can see I'm going to have to plan a lesson about focusing on what you do in the present."

Connie brandished the key. Mrs Lezner accepted it, returning it to a pocket.

"I've lived here for about five years with no trouble whatsoever. I believe trouble has a way of finding people who go looking for it."

Connie didn't feel like continuing the discussion. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mrs Lezner."

"Good evening, Connie."

The shadows were elongating as Connie walked home, and she dared to take a brief detour to walk by Onion's house. She found Vidalia sitting out on the front path in what looked to be an indoor chair.

"Connie," Vidalia waved her over.

Connie meekly approached. "Good evening. Is... everything all right? I've not seen Onion."

Vidalia smiled enigmatically. "Onion's out playing with his friends. Everything's fine."

"Oh." Connie gave a weak grin, unsure whether to acknowledge the invasion of their privacy that had taken place. "Well, that's good to hear. Thanks for letting me know."

"Connie." Vidalia looked unusually serious.

"...Yes?"

"You've seen my Pink Diamond painting, haven't you?"

Connie had forgotten all about the questionable portrait. She floundered, caught off guard. Had Onion told on her? How could he even have known? He'd been downstairs while she looked around the studio. But she'd surely already given herself away by her expression, so there was no longer any point denying it. "Um... yes."

Vidalia's expression softened. "But you didn't mention it to anybody, did you?"

"No." Connie paused, and shook her head vigorously. "No, of course not."

"I know," Vidalia nodded. "That's how I know you had nothing to do with this. And I know you've been a good friend to Onion." She looked serious again. "Just bear in mind, not everyone in the settlement might see things that way. I'm afraid there's nothing I can do about that."

There was a silence as Connie processed what Vidalia was telling her.

So the gems had gone through the house, but because they were searching for Amethyst, they hadn't even looked at Vidalia's paintings. Whereas if they'd seen that sinister Pink Diamond, there might have been severe consequences. (Would there have been? Connie was still unsure, but clearly Vidalia thought so.)

Connie felt doubly guilty. Firstly, because with so much going on she had forgotten about this painting and the danger it might pose. And secondly, with the realisation that if she had thought about it, she would probably have given the terrible advice of hiding the portrait. This would have all but guaranteed its being uncovered. Perhaps PeeDee had a point after all about hiding things in plain sight.

By however convoluted and unintentional a route, she was glad to have earned Vidalia's trust. But there was still a missing piece to the puzzle. "How did you know?" she asked.

Vidalia smirked. "You gave yourself away. Imitation is itself a kind of flattery, after all." Without saying anything more, she rose from her chair and carried it back into the house, leaving Connie none the wiser.

Connie proceeded cautiously down the street, but as she approached her own house it became clear that the gems had departed. There was still an impression of the Jasper's large, flat feet in the soil near the door. It took discipline to stand still for so long. Perhaps an hour didn't seem like a long time when you were hundreds of years old.

She found her dad in the kitchen, eating an apple. He sheepishly greeted her. "I was just having a snack. Why don't you join me?"

Connie unwrapped another apple and leaned against the counter. "We had a new music book delivered at the education centre today," she said, purposefully avoiding the more obvious topic.

"I wish I could have learned a classical instrument at your age. I was in a tiny settlement without many opportunities like that. I think they had a marimba, but it had lost a lot of its notes in a freak weather event."

"Sounds like quite the tragedy," Connie suggested through a mouthful of apple.

"It's worth persisting with music, because it'll give you a point of common ground with gems."

Doug stared thoughtfully at the floor for a few moments. The silence between them felt uncharacteristically uncomfortable.

"I was thinking about what you said earlier," he said, "about relocations, and about... people, being upset when they don't know the reasons behind stuff happening."

Connie said nothing. Her dad refrained from meeting her stare.

"I just want you to know," he continued, "if there's anything that's bothering you, you can always ask me, and I'll answer as best I can."

Connie nodded cautiously. "Thanks."

Her dad smiled. "It was a big change moving here, wasn't it?" he said with forced conviviality. "But it's turned out to be a nice place to live. Changes can be for the best."

"Well," Connie said, "P5T7 was a nice place to live, but now I can see there wasn't much going on there. It can be good if you're moving from somewhere like that, but when you already live in a larger settlement like here, I don't think relocation is ever going to be an attractive prospect. Don't you think you'd worry about ending up in some little row of houses that only grows turnips?"

Doug paused before responding. "I've lived in quite a few settlements over the years, and they all have their own unique charms."

"I'm sure they do," Connie said with a dismissive gesture. "Wouldn't it be nicer to have the choice, though? This is all new to me, and it's kind of made me think about stuff. It makes you feel like you don't have control over your own life."

"How so?" Her dad eyed her curiously.

"Look at it this way. We can all do whatever we want within the settlement. As long as we're not hurting anybody," she appended out of deference to her father's profession. "Growing up, it never occurred to me that there were any real restrictions on my freedom. Then one day we get that letter, and surprise! You don't even get to choose where you live. Do the gems understand how big a change that is for humans, to leave everything and everybody behind? I mean..." — she hesitated, collecting her thoughts — "...we're all different from each other. We don't fit into identical types like them. Do they understand, that it's not the same to go and live with a different set of humans?"

"I think you should give them a little more credit than that. They've obviously been around humans for long enough to understand the difference."

Connie shrugged. "I just hope it isn't something they take lightly. Now that I understand you can be called upon to relocate at any time, it's so much harder to feel... settled."

"The gems who oversee the settlements are masters of organisation. They don't move anyone without a good reason, even if we might not see it."

"Then why not tell people? I bet Yellowtail would love to know what he's doing here." Since Onion's family were by now exonerated, there wasn't much risk in bringing them up as an example.

Doug considered this. "There's never been any mystery when I've moved settlements, because it's always been to do with my work. I suppose I can only speak for myself." He paused. "You think this is causing unrest among the people here?"

"I don't know about any 'unrest'," Connie blurted, before deciding this was too evasive. "Well, I know something is going on around here — I'm not stupid, and you can hardly miss those Jaspers stomping around. I get why you can't really tell me any details. But I know there are people who haven't done anything wrong, who feel like the gems are being unfair. That's all I can say."

Her father looked at her, thoughtful. "It's tricky," he said.

It wasn't clear whether he was about to add anything further, and the point became moot when the front door opened as Mrs Maheshwaran returned home. By unspoken consensus, the discussion was at an end.

Priyanka strode into the kitchen and looked at them expectantly. "Good evening, both of you. How was your day?"

This was addressed at her husband. "Unproductive," he responded simply.

"Oh. Well, never mind. Connie, how was your day?"

"Kind of strange," Connie said. "The day's lessons were disrupted. A lot of kids didn't come back for the afternoon because they thought Onion was in trouble."

"I see." Her mom seemed genuinely interested. "Which children didn't come back?"

"Well... basically everyone. The day just ended early."

Priyanka's brow furrowed. "Well, that's a pity. I have to say that it doesn't reflect well on Mrs Lezner's ability to command discipline."

"Hey," Mr Maheshwaran piped up, "I'm going to the drawing room rather than stand around here all day. Anybody joining me?"

The three of them adjourned to sit for a while, and indulged in some word games to pass a little time before dinner. Connie's mom nominated a word ('abandoned') and they came up with as many words as they could think of that could be made up from its letters.

When this became tiresome, they played a couple of rounds of Game-of-Twenty. Doug had them confounded at first with his selection — a creature that walks on two legs, cannot fly, but isn't a human, gem or chicken. Connie sensed a trick, and with her next question asked whether the animal had once been able to fly. Her dad answered in the affirmative.

"Is it an injured bird?" she asked on her next go.

"Correct," he nodded with a smug grin.

"That's a bit devious," Connie complained.

"Not devious enough, apparently. Come on, your turn. Do you have an idea ready?"

Connie nodded.

"Very well. Is it animal, vegetable or object?"

"Object."

It was Priyanka's turn to ask. "Is it a naturally-occurring object, or artificially made?"

"Artificially made."

Connie's dad pondered his approach. "Is it bigger or smaller than... uh, a doorway?"

"Smaller," Connie confirmed.

"Is it some kind of tool?" her mom asked.

Connie considered this. "Yes," she said after a moment's hesitation.

"Right," Doug said with resolve. "So... is it used in the field... no, wait. Is is used in the production of food?"

"No," Connie shook her head. It had been a well-formulated question — her dad had a knack for closing off as large an avenue of enquiry as possible.

"Is it used in manufacturing?"

"Not that either," Connie told her mother.

"Hmm." Doug studied Connie's face, as if trying to read the answer in her expression. "Is it a tool used by humans?"

"Yes."

"Is it small enough to carry in one hand?" Priyanka asked, gesturing with her palm up.

"Erm... yes? At least, I think so." This could be the turning point in the game. An uncertain reply often revealed more information than an unambiguous one.

Indeed, her dad by now wore a complacent smile. "Is it made by humans?" he asked.

"...No," Connie admitted.

"Ah," her mom realised, "so it's made by gems? Wait, that's not my question. So..." She smiled. "I think I see it, but I'll ask. Do you possess this object?"

Connie smiled sheepishly. "Yes."

"Is it an organic regulator?"

"Yes," Connie laughed, nodding. "Well done, dad."

"I think your mom was there really," he chuckled, raising his hands in a gesture of humility.

"I make that eleven questions," Priyanka announced. "Not bad, Connie, although I don't know whether I'd call it a tool exactly."

"Maybe, but I don't know what else to call it." Connie added, as casually as possible, "I'm just glad you didn't ask what shape it is, or where it's kept, or something like that."

"Yeah," Doug nodded, "the game kind of falls apart if a player can't come up with answers to the questions. Come to think of it, what's the house rule for that? Do you get an extra question?" He stood up. "Well, it's irrelevant in this case. Good game. I'm going to go and put some dinner together."

Left alone with her mom, Connie continued her theme before any new topic of conversation could be introduced. "Do you know where it actually is? The regulator, I mean? Did they put it in when I was born?"

Priyanka showed no suspicion at the line of questioning, but her response wasn't particularly helpful. "They did, but I've no idea how they do it. I was unconscious at the time."

"Oh? Uh, was everything all right?"

"I believe it's standard procedure. In the days before your birth I was taken to a gem facility where the procedure could be supervised. It's safer for the mother and baby, regulator or not. When the time came, they put me to sleep, and when I woke up, there you were." She smiled fondly.

"Were there other mothers there?" Connie asked, interested.

"Not that I saw, but they may have been in other rooms. I was comfortable there for a day or so, but it was nice to come back home and be a family."

"So," Connie persisted, "we don't really know how organic regulators are fitted?"

"Well, I assume they put it somewhere in the torso. I'm no great authority on anatomy, but there's scarcely room in a person's skull for extra machinery. And they'd know better than to put it in an arm or leg — if there's a terrible accident and you lose the limb, how could it help you then?"

Connie shuddered. "Would it... reattach the limb?"

Priyanka shook her head adamantly. "Your regulator can protect you, but it can't work miracles. That's why you must always be careful around sharp tools or farming equipment. Haven't you seen Samuel's eyepatch?"

"Of course," Connie realised. "How does it work, then?"

Her mom assumed a teacherly attitude. "The organic regulator is a marvel of gem technology. Of course we can gain no real understanding of the principles by which it functions, but the simple version is that it acts as a conduit for Pink Diamond's power. She has the ability to heal all wounds purely by virtue of her presence. Somehow, a portion of this power is conveyed through each regulator, and adapted to the user's own bodily humours."

"Her power must be truly immense," Connie said earnestly, "to have enough for every human."

Her mom smiled. "Enough power and enough love to keep humanity safe forever. Now, let's see whether your dad needs any help with dinner."

They enjoyed a humble broth of peas, herbs and celery root, and for dessert finished the remaining bread with some honey. Throughout the evening, the subject of Vidalia's house was conspicuously avoided, and Connie thought it best to follow suit and not broach the topic. Once the washing up was completed, she excused herself to her room to do some thinking.

Her conversation with her mother hadn't been as illuminating as she might have hoped, but it wasn't a total loss. She'd learned at least a couple of things about the organic regulator. For one thing, it was probably located somewhere inside her torso. Reasoning things out further, it had to be fairly small — much smaller than a baby, given the circumstances of its installation. She prodded tentatively at her stomach, as if to find some synthetic lump.

"This is silly," she muttered. It was, she had to admit, an absurd line of enquiry. What exactly was she going to do — cut herself open, like some mad barber-surgeon of old? Even if she could locate the device, she'd scarcely be in a fit state to use it to help Amethyst. Worse, without the regulator's presence she would be in grave danger. Even with its protection, such an act of folly could be beyond its capacity to heal. She had to find another way.

Still... it could be worthwhile looking for some information on anatomy. Just in case.