"The girl has hair as fine as winter wheat; in the attention of the sun, it's almost painful to look at. Though too old for such nonsense, she clutches something for comfort or play. Her narrowed eyes, when she peers about the curtain's edge, are seen to be the blue of lapis lazuli or the strongest cornflower. Or like the old enamel that Iris saw once in a chapel ornament, its shine worn off prematurely. But the girl's eyes are cautious, or maybe depthless, as if they've been torn from the inside out by tiny needles and pins." Ch. 1 The Obscure Child, Part 1 Marketplace, p. 9

"'I see a wicked witch, and a cow that gives milk of pure gold,' calls Iris. She decides she will drum up the courage to look at the paintings of the Master's demons and unnatural figures. All the secrets of the world...