“Sphinx. Oh, yes, you can call me that.” Sphix eyed the woman for a moment. “It so happens to be near my name, too. You are only one letter off.” Then she got up and stretched her legs. “And it can’t be my fault, now can it, if people fail to warn you about me. Some friends you have, not caring about your safety.” Of course, she had not met all that many people in the cellar, and, not wishing to cross Apollo, she had never harmed another Manor resident, but Chantinelle did not need to know.

“Confining, you think?” Sphix risked a glance around her. “Perhaps it is. And perhaps it is not. It reminds me of home, in any case. And, until I can leave safely, it is my home. You have something against that?”