"They must have some by now," Yseult agrees, "Unless there's some force directing rifters to us, and that seems--" fantastical, arrogant, troubling, "unlikely."

She unfurls and refolds the cloth, tucking the dustiest bits inward and finding a cleaner back to continue with. "It never occurred to me to worry they might have that much importance," she admits, "Just that they'd be tortured for experiments. There's a report I read about that happening from before we arrived. Was it the anchors you worried he'd make use of, or some rifter invention?"