Redeeming the Lost

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

First and foremost, I must acknowledge the usual huge debt of gratitude to my wondrous editor, Claire Eddy of Tor Books. She has put up with writing delays due to my iffy health, and my getting slighdy married, with a kind understanding that I probably don't deserve, and her sharp insight has, as ever, improved this book vastly.

My sincere thanks again to Deborah Turner Harris, dear as a sister, whose clearheaded advice and experience have gotten me out of any number of writing dilemmas—without your help, kiddo, this book would have been a darn sight more boring, and you may not realise it but your support and friendship have kept me going when I was ready to throw either the computer or myself out the window. You'll never know how much you've helped, Debby. Bless you.

Margaret Lynn Harshbarger for plotting sessions above and beyond the call of duty, for kicking me when I needed it, for hauling me back into the path of myth when I was getting lost in mechanics, and for her eye-opening insights into—well, too much to mention here. Much of life, actuairy.

Sandy Fleming, friend of many years' standing, for chatting to me when I just had to talk to someone, for reading a few snippets in the interests of a reality check, and for being my Webmaster out of the kindness of his heart.

Dr. Frank Prior, for stopping me from killing off the Kantri through ignorance, and for generally keeping me straight on matters of basic physiology—although to protect his professional reputation he has refused to let me quote specifics about which I have consulted him. Understandably. However, any medical idiocies perpetrated herein are my own doing, and have occurred despite Franks kind assistance rather than because of it.

Catherine and John Mac-Donald, for their generous willingness to be interrupted and keep me right on matters of midwifery and pregnancy, and to Kirsty Nicol, dear friend, for information about being on the sharp end, as it were, of pregnancy. Again, any missteps are my own entirely.

Christopher, as ever, for putting up with frantic calls at all hours, for staunch friendship, for his delight in the language, and for being the voice of reason for me when I couldn't think in a straight line.

And finally, ever and always, my deepest thanks go to my best-beloved, Steven Beard, dear friend for many years and now my treasured husband, who has carried an infinite number of cups of tea up the stairs over the last three years and never once threw one over me, richly though I may have deserved it. The man brings me toasted apple and cinnamon bread to keep me going, for goodness' sake. What more could a girl want?

I couldn't have done it without you, my dears. I hereby owe you a beer. Each.

—Elizabeth