"Friend." Magnus said the word as if he had forgotten its meaning. "Let me put it this way: nine times out of ten these ghosts have their own reason for never returning home. There is something in them, some darkness or some failure of willpower they cannot face, much less conquer. In the end, it's easier to give up on fighting for their lives. All the sorcery in the world can't change that, kitten. Now rest."

But the last thing Evelina intended was a nap. If Magnus had dangled the promise of Imogen's cure, it might have made a difference, but his indifference was just one more reason to get free of him. What good was power if you couldn't help the ones you love?

Magnus had given her a seemingly inescapable chamber, but she wasn't done searching it yet. She emptied two of the bra.s.s-bound trunks and heaved them on top of a third, making a precarious stair so that she could investigate the ceiling. The construction was primitive, just a heavy lattice of beams overlaid with the floor above. Since they were at the top of the tower and she rarely heard anyone walking above, she a.s.sumed it was an attic.

The clock in the workroom struck the half hour, and she was always summoned to dinner precisely at seven-the one meal she and Magnus ate together. Since her free time was so limited, she'd had to work her way around the room a bit each day. At first, she found nothing-not even cobwebs. But as she teetered on the stack of trunks beside her bed, she noticed a scattering of dust on the top of the red brocade canopy. She would have thought nothing of it except that the room had been scrupulously cleaned. And then she noticed a thin strip of daylight above. With the handle of the fireplace poker, she gave the underside of the attic floorboards an experimental poke. One shifted slightly, enough to tell her that the end closest to the wall wasn't tightly nailed down. Pushing it loose would be easy, and from there she could begin to pry up its neighbors. Her insides squeezed with excitement. It's not much, but it's something!

Then a noise made her stop and listen, and crane her head toward the door. Footfalls. Magnus was early. A rush of hot panic flooded Evelina and she scrambled down, replacing the poker and dismantling her makeshift ladder. She had the first and smallest trunk back in place by the time the key was in the lock. The second was larger, requiring her to b.u.mp it onto the floor and drag it against the wall just as the door rattled open. Evelina jumped away from it at the last second, breathing hard and with the contents of two trunks strewn across her bed.

"Tidying?" Magnus inquired, eying the chaos. "Quite a noisy occupation."

"I am moving my things around," Evelina said, trying to hide the fact that she was still puffing. "Trunks are hardly the same thing as a proper chest of drawers."

Magnus looked nonplussed. "Perhaps we can find you something more to your liking. In the meanwhile, perhaps you could join me for a practical demonstration before we sit down to eat. Bring your wrap."

He led her up the stairs to the level above-it was indeed used for no more than storage-and then up a final flight of steps. A door in the tower opened onto a parapet that stretched across the entire castle, interrupted only by the tops of the other, smaller towers. A battlement provided some shelter from the constant wind, but the air was still bitter as the sun dipped toward the horizon. Evelina pulled her shawl close, teeth clenched so they would not chatter.

Magnus walked toward a piece of ornate wrought-iron scrollwork that was mounted on the west side of the battlement, rusted bolts piercing the stone. It stretched between two of the merlons, forming an ornate grill. "One of the themes of magic is illusion. We are all guilty of it, some of us even gifted, but the truly powerful are those who have the gift-or curse-of seeing through such spells."

He pulled an object from the pocket of his dark tailcoat and held it out. It was a plain, flat stone, entirely unremarkable except that there was a hole at its center. Evelina nodded, suddenly more willing to endure the cold. "My grandmother gave me one very like that, except that someone has painted it."

"I recall the piece. Painting the stones is quite common among the folk pract.i.tioners. If one finds a good seeing stone, it becomes an object worthy of celebration." He placed the stone into a holder at the center of the grill, so that the hole was at the exact middle of the ironwork. "The way these work is to catch the light at the precise moment of dusk or dawn. For an hour, or two, or twelve after that-much depends on the stone and the user-that eye will have the gift of true sight."

"It is that simple to use?" Evelina exclaimed.

"There is nothing simple about the truth, my dear. But yes, the mechanics are no more complex than that." He swept his arm toward the grill, an echo of his theatrical past. "Step forward and look, if you dare."

Evelina approached the grill, which was made for Magnus and too tall for her comfort. The first thing she saw was the blaze of the fading sun on the water, shocks of pink and orange mirrored on the sea and sky. Then she stood on her toes, stretching up to peer through the stone with her left eye. The magic struck her like a firm tap that echoed from head to toe. The view of the sea itself didn't change, and she watched as the silver-blue edges of the water faded to a deep indigo. She backed away with a final shiver. "I'm more than ready to go inside."

"Very good then," Magnus said, collecting the stone and leading her down to the workroom, where their dinner would be spread out.

She looked around curiously, half expecting to see that the dinner was rotten or the books nothing but old leaves, as from the pages of a fairy tale. But everything inside the castle looked the same, even Magnus. He looked haggard, but had not sprouted horns or a second head.

They sat down to eat. The cold had p.r.i.c.ked Evelina's appet.i.te and she gratefully selected a warm roll and broke it apart. "So what precisely was the point of that exercise?" she asked.

Magnus toyed with his spoon. Dinner was a fish stew, as it seemed to be every other dinner, and they were both growing a little weary of it. But he also looked apprehensive. "What do you think is the truth?"

That I want to go home. That I'm afraid of you and myself. "Should it be that subjective?"

Magnus didn't answer, so she bit into the bread and chewed. But the moment she began to eat, she realized the demonstration had affected her nerves badly. Magnus never did anything without a point, so why all this talk of truth? Was there something hideous that should be revealed? She couldn't keep herself from glancing into the corners, looking for the Others. She'd caught glimpses of them often enough, usually in the corridors or creeping around the bailey, but they rarely approached the rooms she lived and worked in.

Magnus finally summoned up a reply. "I think the truth should be obvious. I am a sorcerer and, willing or not, you are my student."

"And you're a master of illusion," she said sharply. "And you're a mesmerist. I've seen you hypnotize an entire theater into believing a lie."

"Just so," he replied, putting down his spoon. "You're growing closer to the answer, kitten."

"What are you hiding?" Evelina jumped up and began a circuit of the room, looking at everything.

"Nothing. I'm attempting to teach you to see through deception."

She stopped dead in front of the sherry decanter. Rather than the clear amber she'd seen before, now it looked like liquefied decay. She s.n.a.t.c.hed the crystal stopper away and reeled back from the smell. "b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, what's in there?"

"You read the recipe earlier today," Magnus replied, blotting his lips with his napkin.

She dropped the stopper from nerveless fingers. "That potion in the appendix. The one that enables a person to feed from the living." She rapidly calculated the number of days, the number of doses. She'd had more than enough to do the job. "You tricked me into drinking it! You left my bracelets on just to set the stage to give me the first dose!"

Magnus gave a short laugh. "Trust me, this was kinder. I wish I'd thought it was a top-drawer liquor when I was a student. The taste is indescribably bad."

Evelina rounded on him, rage making her feel eight feet tall. "This is the way you confess to what you've done? By turning it into a practical demonstration?"

"What I've done?" He rose from his chair in a single swift move. His dark eyes were bright with anger of his own. "You simper and you snap and I let you. I bestow my knowledge freely, all the while putting up with your puling conscience. I endure you, Evelina, but make no mistake. You will do as I say."

"You've made a monster of me!"

"Then that is who you are. There is nothing I can make you into that does not already dwell in your soul." He raised a finger, pointing it into her face. "This is your lesson in truth, kitten. You are my thrall."

Evelina drew up short. It had been a long time since she'd felt his wrath, but it made her own feel stronger. She narrowed her eyes, no longer caring what he did. He'd already destroyed her. "Be careful what you make of me, Doctor."

She turned and walked back to her bedroom, then sat un-moving at the edge of the bed. It was still strewn with the contents of her trunks, but she ignored that entirely. A minute or two later, she heard the key fasten the lock.

The sound made her feel better. If Magnus was turning her into an implement of his will, there was no way she could ever let herself go home.

Over Somerset, October 12, 1889.

ABOARD THE ATHENA.

3:12 p.m. Sat.u.r.day.

"DARK MOTHER OF BASILISKS, WHAT IS THAT?" NICK GROWLED. He shoved the tankard back toward his helmsman, rising from the scrubbed wooden table in the mess area of the ship.

"Scrumpy," Digby replied, his wide smile showing crooked teeth. He was tall, red-haired, and perpetually good-natured, even toward vile substances masquerading as drinkable liquids. "Striker brought a fair supply on board."

"As an incendiary weapon?"

"No, he said it was a right proper drink for pirates. And I rather like it."

"You can have my share." Nick gave up and started toward the fore of the steamspinner.

"Right you are, sir," Digby said cheerfully, draining Nick's mug in a single draft.

As he walked away, Nick waited for the sound of his body falling in a toxic heap, but apparently airmen were manly men well able to survive the rigors of scrumpy.

From the mess, he walked forward to the bridge, still amazed by the view from the arc of huge windows. With deep satisfaction, Nick regarded the brilliant greens and golds of Somerset unrolling below. He had survived the Scarlet King's h.e.l.l. Now Scarlet was dead, and Nick had this amazing ship, his crew, and Athena. The only other thing he wanted for himself was Evelina.

He had been on the Athena when Her Majesty's Laboratories had been destroyed, or he would have whisked her away then. As it was, she had escaped with Madam Thala.s.sa's crew. Holmes was learning her exact location now, then Nick would pick her up, and all would be right in his world. If His Princeliness the Schoolmaster came out on top, there was even a chance of a pardon.

You are whistling, Niccolo, said Athena.

"I'm happy."

But you are not musical. And there is a rook awaiting you below.

The mention of the birds sobered him. Gwilliam had reported disappearances from his flock-scouts who went out and did not return. Then they had found the savaged body of a rook dropped in pieces against the starboard portholes. The birds had little idea what was stalking them, but it always seemed to happen when there were enemy airships nearby. Evidently, the steam barons had a new weapon.

Nick retraced his steps through the mess, the crew quarters, and out the door that took him from the gondola to the main workings of the ship. This was Striker's kingdom. He could hear the crash-banging of crates being moved in the storerooms as his second in command tidied away the bolts, grease, and other parts necessary to keep the ship running in top form. It was a bit like witnessing a clockwork badger stocking his burrow for the winter.

Nick's destination was a small doorway on the port side of the ship. It led into a small, narrow chamber with no furnishings other than roosts. There were three round portholes as well as a narrow hatch that opened straight into the clouds. Here was where the ash rooks could come and go at will.

He put his head inside the roosting area. "Do you have a message for me?"

A young rook with a simple chain around his neck flew down from his perch and dropped a note at Nick's feet. Fair winds, Captain, I come from the place of brick and water below.

"Greetings, Talfryn." As they had nearly reached Bath, Nick a.s.sumed the message must be from the Schoolmaster's headquarters just outside the city. He bent to retrieve the message.

Will there be battle soon?

Without answering, Nick unfolded the paper, which had been somewhat mashed by its trip in the rook's strong beak.

Captain, I beg your indulgence, but I trust you will understand the contents of this message better than most. I received a telegram from the younger Miss Roth this morning with a very strange piece of information. She woke up with a firm conviction that her elder sister, who has been ill and insensible for months, visited her in a dream and gave her instructions to advise me that Evelina Cooper is being held captive by the sorcerer Magnus at Castle Siabartha. As you can well imagine, this is not within my usual area of expertise.

However, I extend these three facts for your consideration. First, it has come to my attention that there were indeed several sightings of an unmarked black air vessel between Dartmoor and the coast north of Tintagel immediately following the destruction of Her Majesty's Laboratories.

Second, there is indeed a Castle Siabartha on that coast.

Third, my initial a.s.sumption was that Evelina left the moor on the night of the laboratories' destruction with Madam Thala.s.sa. There was another set of footprints near the location where I last saw her, but it had rained so heavily before dawn that any information they might have provided was badly obscured. And, to be frank, I thought I knew the reason for her silent departure. She was visibly upset at the time, and until now I believed she left quietly in an effort to keep her troubled state of mind to herself. This delicacy of feeling is, as I'm sure you know, part of her nature. Nevertheless, I have since confirmed to my great consternation that I was in error, and there is a strong probability that she was coerced and kidnapped.

In brief, I believe Miss Roth's information should not be discounted, however irregularly she has obtained it.

Captain, I am well aware that in this time of conflict, you and your ship will be pushed to the limit. However, I beg you to investigate. The coordinates for the castle are listed below.

-S. Holmes Nick read the message, and then read it again. Evelina is gone. It was like being thrown in Manufactory Three all over again, with the rage and helplessness that dragged with it.

A remote castle on the coast? Magnus? Nick's mind veered sharply away. I saw Magnus fall. He has to be dead. But he'd thought that before and been wrong.

He looked down at Talfryn. "Tell Gwilliam to prepare for a siege."

Southwest Coast, October 12, 1889.

SIABARTHA CASTLE.

4:10 p.m. Sat.u.r.day.

THRALL? IN YOUR fantasies, you moth-eaten charlatan.

When she'd left Whitechapel, Evelina had been horrified by the price Magnus's lessons had made her pay. And yet, there'd been a lingering corner of regret for all she would never learn.

After last night, any lingering disappointment had just gone up in a ball of flame. She wanted out before he did something else to her. Where am I going to go?

Part of her wanted to be locked away somewhere, back at the college or maybe in a dungeon where she couldn't hurt a soul-at least until she knew she could control this new curse. And part of her was terrified of confinement. In a way she didn't quite understand, she wasn't entirely civilized anymore.

And Magnus's behavior wasn't helping. He'd left her locked in her room all day. There had been no hot water to wash, and no food. She'd ended up drinking the last of the wash water left in the pitcher from yesterday. If he'd meant this treatment to tame her mood, it had produced the opposite effect.

The dark power shifted inside. It was restless and watchful, waiting for her least command. It felt eager for an opportunity to stretch, perhaps to hunt-but that was the one thing she wouldn't allow. She knew from that slim little volume that first taste of fresh life was the beginning of a whole new darkness.

Even the notion of it made her power twitch with antic.i.p.ation. Evelina gave it a mental smack on the nose. If you want to be useful, find me a way out of here.

But the only option continued to be that loose board. She stepped back from the bed to get a better angle, and peered up to the high, shadowy ceiling. The problem was going to be getting up there with the bed in the way. The bedframe was ma.s.sive, a four-poster affair far too heavy for her to drag aside. Then again, she'd been raised in the circus, hadn't she?

Evelina hadn't bothered to put her clothes back into her trunks. She'd simply shoved them aside to lie down for last night's fit of brooding. That made the empty trunks easy to lift now, so she piled them up in a tower next to her bed. Grabbing the poker again, she climbed the makeshift ladder, going slowly to keep the tottering stack from a sudden shift. From there, she tested the strength of the oak rails holding up the canopy. Carefully, she swung a leg over the closest rail, leaning forward to avoid knocking her head on the beams above. She scooted forward, one arm wrapped around the finial of the bedpost. Even padded by the bed curtains, the position was desperately uncomfortable, and the fact that her right leg was hampered by the canopy didn't help. But the only way to improve matters was to get the job over with, so she prodded the loose board with the fireplace poker and got to work as quietly as she could.

It quickly became apparent that there was no one upstairs, because it was a splintering, puffing, grunting sort of job guaranteed to attract attention. The boards were wide but it took time to get the first one detached all the way, and then more to figure out how to use that to her advantage. The old square spikes holding the boards down were st.u.r.dy. It took using the poker like a pry bar, plus a trickle of earth magic, to work enough boards free so she could push her shoulders through the gap. From there, she braced her elbows on the attic floor, got her feet on the canopy rail, and pushed.

Evelina landed on the attic floor, gasping like a landed fish. One palm was bleeding from catching it on a splinter, but she welcomed the pain. It was proof she was doing something instead of waiting like a lamb for Sunday dinner.

When she'd caught her breath, she rolled away from the loose boards and stood up, then tamped them back into place with her foot. If Magnus came looking for her, she'd need every moment. Picking up the poker, she glanced around the attic, wondering where to go next. Magnus had said the balloon and the stables would be guarded with spells, so she would simply have to walk. Maybe it would take her a week to reach the next village. If that was her only option, so be it.

Evelina was all too aware that Magnus was starving her, probably waiting until she was good and hungry in every possible sense before giving her someone to eat. And then, if he used her like he had Serafina, he'd wrest that energy from her, leaving only sc.r.a.ps. It had driven the doll mad. Evelina might last longer, but eventually she, too, would be a ravenous, mindless feeding machine, her only purpose to keep her master plump with stolen lives.

She had to find a way out of the castle, but the only way in or out of the attic room was the main staircase. That would take her past Magnus's quarters-too risky. Instead, she mounted the stairs to the battlements, hoping to find another way down.

Cautiously, she peered out the door. From the sky, she could tell she'd spent a long time getting out of her room. The last streaks of sun shot through the clouds, looking as if something had cracked the firmament and blood had leaked through. She cursed the fact that she hadn't brought a lantern.

There was no one there. She closed the door behind her and began an immediate search for an alternate route down to the bailey.

The merlons rose along the edge of the roof like broad, sullen figures. Evelina felt an instinctive urge to shrink away, as if they might reach out and grab her shoulder. Nonetheless, she forced herself to creep along through their concealing shadows, wary that a guard might yet appear and surprise her. Somewhere above, the sea wind moaned through a c.h.i.n.k in the stone, a counterpoint to the lashing sea below.

Of course, it was in the shadows that the Others hid. A squat figure sprang from nothing, one moment not there, the next mere inches away. She cried out in disgust and scrambled back, raising the poker like a club.

Even that close, it was hard to make out, as if it defied her eyes to make sense of what it was. The head seemed to be collapsed onto the shoulders as if it had rotted from the inside. Only twin pits remained where the eyes should have been.

She wished she'd learned how to crush them like Magnus did, but she was stuck with the tools she had. She took a two-handed swipe with the poker, but the weapon pa.s.sed right through it.

Cold iron doesn't hurt us.

The voice spoke directly to her mind, exactly the same way devas did. But it wasn't the same kind of voice. It hurt-not in terms of physical pain, but she felt her heart tear as the cruel, dry whisper ripped through her.