Last night when Dodonus had scribbled it down Ford had just nodded appreciatively, the way one did when someone showed off a piece of artwork that one didn't want to comment on. The poetry wasn't bad, but in such a short stanza there also wasn't much that Ford could have said in its praise, so he hadn't said anything at all. Why pick bones about whether the comparison to chocolate was novel or interesting, particularly when Ford was hardly writing anything better himself? As a prophecy, however, it was spot on. As a prophecy it did have one problem in common with the poem, though: it was too short to contain any of the story.

"Took her where?" he asked urgently, though he already suspected Tycho wouldn't have an answer. He had to at least ask.

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