Aramis breathes in sharply, the name there and gone again so swiftly he's almost dizzy with it, could almost believe he hadn't seen it at all, but why would his imagination provide that of all things? "Allison," he says, laying a hand over hers, though he does not know how to return to what was previously seen, only that he must not let her venture any further form it.

"What meaning could it have," he asks, "A name written on these pages? Surely not one of authorship."