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That was the trouble with the supernatural, Vimbai thought–you didn’t know what laws ruled it, and what was a coincidence and what was a sign and what was weird and what wasn’t. It was like a whodunit, only the clues refused to be arranged into any sort of hierarchy or a straight narrative, and most of the time it wasn’t even clear if they indeed were clues; a jigsaw puzzle where all the pieces were blank.
