“Jayant was quiet for a long time. The teak table gleamed between them — centuries of polish creating a surface so dark it looked wet, reflecting the oil lamp in a distorted oval that trembled with each draught from the open window. Outside, the mountain night was clear and cold, and the stars above Kirtinagar shone with the hard, bright clarity of altitude — each one a point of light so sharp it seemed capable of cutting the dark it occupied.”