"Old magic," she said, which didn't really answer Greta's question regarding good or bad, but Amalthea felt that this magic, like her own, was beyond such easy division. It was too old, too deep, too slow.

She accepted her cup of tea from Greta when it came to her, but then she drifted out toward the back door so she could step into the garden and get a better look.

"Who has been here?" she asked, turning to peer at the woman with unfathomable eyes.