"I'll swap seats if you like," Goneril said to Faolin, giving him a rather meaningful look. She sighed, and looked back at Fiona. "Shouldn't I be the one who should be getting more time to get used to being you? I think being me is much easier."

"On second thought, I think I had better stay where I am," he replied. "You. Bowl. Wash your fingers. Just the fingers. Wipe one at a time on napkin." He turned to Fiona. "If you let yourself get scared off in the first hour, we'd might as well keep you in your room until this is settled."

"I'm not scared," she protested. "I was scared when I was lost. Not . . . I don't know how to talk with anyone," she admitted. "And I am not used to being alone. I would feel a little more comfortable if someone I knew was with me. For a little while, at least."

Goneril did as she was told, very deftly and daintily. She looked to Fiona. "That's fine, then stay with us, or with my brother or the Countess. Someone will look out for you."

"I wish the house wouldn't turn itself around," she said with a sigh. "I would feel much better if I knew I could come back if I went out." She, too, took the cue to clean her fingers, even though after the last incident she might feel up to eating sometime next spring. "Has it been very bad?' she asked Goneril.

Faolin nodded in approval at Goneril and frowned slightly at Fiona. "If you're going to eat, be careful. You're tallfolk. I'm not sure what of this is going to cause you problems. Fill up on bread," he suggested.

"Well, I can tell you what I can and can't eat normally, " Goneril pointed out. "It isn't terrible," she assured the other girl. "I keep getting a bit sleepy and lightheaded, and trying to do things with one hand is a little confusing, is all."

"It isn't you," Faolin told Goneril. "Other than the fact that you're tallfolk. Some of these things will poison you. Or at least make you very ill."

Fiona's hands suddenly sank into her lap. "I . . . have already been ill," she said, worried.

Goneril looked fascinated. "You mean our bodies process toxins differently? " She asked eagerly, before sighing and looking to Fiona. "Then he's right. Bread and a little wine, and that's all."