"I'm just saying what's true."

"On the contrary, there's not a bit of truth to it."

"How do you know people haven't ever died here?"

"I suppose it's very possible that they have. I'm sure many generations have come and gone in this house, but that in no way means there are specters here. When people pa.s.s, their souls go to Eternum. Their spirits don't remain in this world."

"What about those who don't get to go to Eternum?" Lily said. "The Testament says that not everyone goes there, not if they're wicked."

"There is another place for the spirits of wicked people." Ivy looked at Rose and gave her a smile that she hoped would be rea.s.suring. "The only place where specters exist is in the books Lily has been reading of late, which also concern princesses and pirates. As we have neither of rea.s.suring. "The only place where specters exist is in the books Lily has been reading of late, which also concern princesses and pirates. As we have neither of those those in our house, I'm sure we have no specters either." in our house, I'm sure we have no specters either."

"How can you be certain?" Rose said, holding Miss Mew tight and resting her cheek against the cat's mottled fur.

Ivy set down the book, then went to the sofa and sat beside Rose.

"Look there." She pointed to the fireplace. The mantel was carved with intricate designs, and in the center was one of the many eyes to be found throughout the house. The eye was shut now, but at other times it was open, watching them as they sewed or talked. Since the workmen had no reason to enter this room at the moment, Ivy had left it uncovered.

"Father placed many enchantments and protections on this dwelling. The house is always keeping vigil to make certain we are safe."

Rose hesitated, then nodded. "Sometimes I feel as if it's alive-as if it's watching us and listening to our voices, and noticing when we go from one room to another." She did not speak as if these were awful or alarming things, but instead with a fondness in her voice.

"Do you believe in spirits, Mrs. Seenly?" Lily said as the housekeeper entered the parlor with a tray.

Ivy felt a note of exasperation. "Lily!"

"It's quite all right, ma'am," Mrs. Seenly said as she set down the tray. "I don't mind her asking. Aye, of course I believe in spirits."

Lily gave Ivy a triumphant look, then turned her attention back to the housekeeper. "Have you ever seen one?"

"I can't say that I have."

"Then how do you know that they exist?"

"Well, how do we know that G.o.d exists, or Eternum?" She uncovered a plate of biscuits, then proceeded to pour tea. "Now, men of learning are very clever these days. They'll tell you that no one's ever measured a spirit's footprints or detected a change in the air caused by the comings and goings of a phantom. But we know in our hearts that even though some things can't be seen or touched, that doesn't mean they aren't real." our hearts that even though some things can't be seen or touched, that doesn't mean they aren't real."

Mrs. Seenly spoke the words lightly, but all the same a clamminess crept across Ivy's skin. She could not help thinking of the whispering voices she had heard a few nights ago.

"Do you think there are any specters in this house?" Rose said with a worried look.

"Here?" Mrs. Seenly clucked her tongue. "Oh, I should think not, what with all the hubbub of hammering and pounding going on. If I were a spirit, I am sure I would want for a dark and quiet place. No, if there were ever any spirits here, they're sure to have all been driven out."

"Thank you, Mrs. Seenly," Ivy said gently.

"Of course, ma'am," she replied, and left the room.

Ivy was grateful for the housekeeper's cheerful words. An a.s.surance that the house was free of spirits could only be more compelling coming from Mrs. Seenly, who was a woman of superst.i.tion, rather than from an elder sister who was known to be a skeptic. Indeed, after that there was no further talk of specters or phantoms as they took their tea.

As the sounds of work continued from above, a more musical sound drifted through the window as the bells in the church of St. Simeons chimed the arrival of the last farthing of the day. Ivy had been glad to discover there was a church so near the house, just down the street. She listened to the bells and waited for the sound of the mantel clock to join in.

The tolling ceased, but still there came no echoing chime from within the sitting room. Perplexed, Ivy went to the fireplace and examined the clock on the mantel. It was the very clock she remembered seeing in the house as a small girl. Its housing was of rosewood, inlaid with pieces stained different hues and shaped like planets and suns and comets.

The clock had three faces, each the size of a saucer. The middle face showed the hour like a usual timepiece. However, the left face depicted the phases of the moon, from Darkeve to Brightday back to Darkeve again, while the right face showed the progression from day to night. Ivy had loved watching this latter face the most as a girl, for on short lumenals the clock turned so quickly that she could actually see it moving: a black disk spinning downward to cover one of gold as day gave way to night. from day to night. Ivy had loved watching this latter face the most as a girl, for on short lumenals the clock turned so quickly that she could actually see it moving: a black disk spinning downward to cover one of gold as day gave way to night.

Ivy had found the clock beneath a cloth when she and Mr. Quent had made their first inspection of the house, and she had been delighted to discover that, when wound with a heavy bra.s.s key, its gears sprang into motion just as of old, emitting their familiar, comforting hum.

Now Ivy frowned at the clock. "That's peculiar."

"Peculiar?" Lily said. "It's mad is what it is. I wouldn't be surprised if the whole ceiling came crashing down." She leaned over the table and slurped at her teacup, which she had made too full with a large dollop of cream.

Rose looked upward and bit her lip. "I think it's lower than it was a minute ago."

That wasn't what Ivy had meant. She had set the clock according to the almanac just yesterday. Now, while the church bells had struck the start of the fourth and final farthing of the lumenal, a bit more than a quarter of the gold circle still showed on the right-hand face of the clock.

She went to the hutch to get the almanac. According to the timetables, the last farthing today was to begin just after the ninth hour. Indeed, in the center face of the clock, the second hand had moved a little past the hour. So why had it not struck last farthing? Ivy sighed and shut the almanac. Perhaps the old clock was not running as well as she had thought.

She returned to her seat with the intention of looking over the copy of The Comet The Comet that Mrs. Seenly had brought with the tea, to see what news there was that day of the Wyrdwood. However, when she reached for the broadsheet, she found it was no longer on the tray. that Mrs. Seenly had brought with the tea, to see what news there was that day of the Wyrdwood. However, when she reached for the broadsheet, she found it was no longer on the tray.

"Listen to this!" Lily exclaimed.

Ivy looked up and saw that Lily held the newspaper before her.

"It says there is a new theater just opened on Durrow Street," Lily went on, "and that the viscountess Lady Crayford is known to have seen a performance by its troupe of illusionists. So do you see, Ivy? There's no reason we can't attend a play ourselves. It can't be wrong to go to a play if have seen a performance by its troupe of illusionists. So do you see, Ivy? There's no reason we can't attend a play ourselves. It can't be wrong to go to a play if she she went. Besides, we live on Durrow Street. We're hardly any distance at all from the theaters." went. Besides, we live on Durrow Street. We're hardly any distance at all from the theaters."

Ivy did her best to sound sensible rather than scolding. "We live on the west end of Durrow Street, not the east, and so we are no closer to the theaters than we were in Gauldren's Heights. Here, let me see."

She took the broadsheet from Lily and perused the article.

"I thought as much," Ivy said. "If you had bothered to read farther, you would have learned that the viscountess did not in fact go to a play on Durrow Street. Rather, Lord Crayford brought in a single illusionist from the new theater to provide an entertainment at her birthday party. Even so, the article says that a great number in the Hall of Magnates consider it scandalous that one of their peers allowed illusionists to enter his house, and a resolution of censure is being considered."

Lily slouched back in her chair. "I don't believe that's what the article says at all," she said, though she did not take the newspaper back. "And even if it is, who cares what a lot of dreary old men in a.s.sembly think? Everyone says the viscountess is beautiful and thirty years younger than her husband. They say that he gives her anything at all that she wants, and that she's dreadfully fashionable. If she does a thing, you can be sure every magnate's daughter will be doing the same in short time."

"Well, as your father is merely a gentleman and not a magnate, I am certain you will not be following suit."

Lily crossed her arms and sank deeper into her chair. "How can I when Mr. Rafferdy never brings Mr. Garritt to call? I can't very well go see a play all by myself. That That would hardly be fashionable. And I suppose now that you've gone and married Mr. Quent, Mr. Rafferdy will never come again. You've quite ruined everything, you know." would hardly be fashionable. And I suppose now that you've gone and married Mr. Quent, Mr. Rafferdy will never come again. You've quite ruined everything, you know."

Ivy set down the broadsheet. "Is that what you believe, too, Rose? Have I made a ruin of everything by becoming Mrs. Quent?"

"No!" Rose exclaimed. "It's just the opposite. Everything is wonderful now. Isn't it, Lily? You must say it is. You must!"

After a great deal more cajoling on Rose's part, Lily was at last made to admit that their situation was indeed improved compared to what it had been dwelling on Whitward Street with their cousin Mr. Wyble, and that she did in fact adore Mr. Quent, even if he was decrepit and needed a new coat.

"Do you think Mr. Rafferdy will come to call soon?" Rose asked.

"We can hope so," Ivy said, "but we must not expect it. His work occupies him greatly."

Ivy had received a note from Mr. Rafferdy last month, apologizing for not presenting himself at Durrow Street more often. His father's health had worsened, he had written, and Mr. Rafferdy had been kept busy attending to Lord Rafferdy's business in the city.

Ivy had not heard again from Mr. Rafferdy since receiving that note, though she had gotten some news about him on the occasions she had been invited to Lady Marsdel's house. She also received reports from Mrs. Baydon, whom she saw with some frequency. Just that morning they had walked together along the Promenade.

Lily was chattering again about asking Mr. Quent for a new bonnet, and Ivy was thankful the subject of theaters had been dropped. However, her disquiet, while diminished, was not removed. The frequency with which her youngest sister brought up the idea of attending a play had increased since their arrival on Durrow Street. Ivy feared that one day the temptation to see a performance by illusionists would become too great for Lily to resist, no matter how unfashionable attending a play by herself might seem. And while a wealthy and popular viscountess might dare a brush with scandal and bring in an illusionist at her party for notoriety's sake, it would be a far more rash act for the daughter of a modest gentleman to go to a theater. If such a thing became public, it would irrevocably ruin Lily's reputation.

There was only one solution: she must be given something else to occupy her desires. If she could be offered something that was more likely to result in her encountering fashionable beings, and having herself counted among them, she would be drawn to it wholeheartedly. more likely to result in her encountering fashionable beings, and having herself counted among them, she would be drawn to it wholeheartedly.

Lily was sixteen now-it was not in any way too early. Ivy resolved to speak to Mr. Quent as soon as he returned, and to tell him that it was time Lily be officially introduced to society. A ball held in her honor would surely drive any thoughts of illusionists and theaters from her mind.

Ivy could not help feeling a pang of regret, for she had always hoped her father would be well enough to attend Lily's coming out affair-that perhaps he would be able to present her himself. However, there was no telling how long it would be until they obtained the writ from the king and won his release from Madstone's, and the matter of Lily's coming out could not wait.

Lily flopped on the chaise to read her book, while Rose picked up her poor basket and resumed sewing shirts. As her sisters occupied themselves, Ivy took up the copy of The Comet The Comet. Doing her best to ignore the thudding noises coming from above, she started to read an article about the exorbitant price of lamp oil, which was rising at a rapid pace. After a moment, her attention was caught by another item on the front page.

NOVEL H HEAVENLY B BODY I IS B BESTOWED N NAME read the headline. With great interest, Ivy perused the article below. read the headline. With great interest, Ivy perused the article below.

According to the story, the Royal Society of Astrographers had recently convened to review all that had been learned so far about the red planet that had been discovered last year. While much remained to be understood about its properties and motions, the preliminary calculations suggested the planet would continue its approach-a hypothesis borne out by its ever-increasing brightness in the sky.

Such an important body required a name, so the Society had solicited suggestions from its members. After a vote, they had settled upon a name which, given their charter as the will of the king in all matters celestial, was now official. The name they chose was Cerephus.

Ivy frowned. She could not say she was pleased with that that name. In Tharosian myth, Cerephus was a crimson-eyed cyclops who stole a magickal winged helm and used it to fly up to Mount Valos where the G.o.ds resided. His intention was to pelt them with stones-which he could turn blazing hot by means of his red gaze-until they admitted him as one of their own. name. In Tharosian myth, Cerephus was a crimson-eyed cyclops who stole a magickal winged helm and used it to fly up to Mount Valos where the G.o.ds resided. His intention was to pelt them with stones-which he could turn blazing hot by means of his red gaze-until they admitted him as one of their own.

So a.s.saulted, the G.o.ds relented and allowed Cerephus into their order. But they soon found a way to betray him by holding a feast in his honor and lacing his wine with lotus. As he slept, they took the winged helm, put out his single eye, and cast him down off Mount Valos.

Ivy supposed it was not just because of the red color of the planet that the astrographers had chosen to name it after the mythical cyclops. Perhaps, from their calculations, they did not expect the planet to remain visible indefinitely, but rather believed it would dwell among the other planets only for a time: a temporary peer in their heavenly a.s.sembly.

Regardless of the meaning or quality of the name, it was certainly exciting to dwell during a time of the discovery of an entire new planet. If only her father was capable of understanding what was happening. How fascinated he would have been to know of it!

Except, he did know about the new planet. Or at least, he had had known before his malady befell him. known before his malady befell him.

So, you have returned at last from your wanderings, he had said that night when Ivy found him gazing out the window at the red spark shining in the sky. What was more, his celestial globe, which now resided in his old study upstairs, had been engineered to accommodate the addition of a twelfth planet. Indeed, it was by adding a twelfth orb-a thing discovered in his old magick cabinet at Heathcrest Hall-that the mechanism had been unlocked, revealing the key to the house on Durrow Street.

Yet how this was possible, she still did not know. Her father had been ill for ten years, insensible to everything and everyone around him. So how could he have known about a world that no one had seen in all of recorded history until last year?

In the broadsheet was a drawing of one of the devices that had been used to observe the new planet. It was over twenty feet in length, and according to the article its ocular crystal was the largest and most flawless ever produced. In the drawing, several men gathered around the device as another peered through the aperture.

Looking at the picture, Ivy felt a sudden jolt of realization. Her mind whirled and spun like the wheels and spheres of her father's celestial globe. Were there not other crystals that allowed one to glimpse worlds from afar? In fact, there was just such an artifact upstairs, shut away in the secret room behind her father's study.

She had not removed the cloth covering the artifact since the day the magicians of the Vigilant Order of the Silver Eye had come to the house. She did not dare-not after seeing how merely peering into its depths had driven them mad. At her urging that day, Mr. Rafferdy had used magick to bind the door of the secret chamber so no one could enter.

All the same, she recalled the scene she had glimpsed fleetingly through the surface of the crystal globe: an undulating landscape beneath a livid red sky. Perhaps it was not so strange after all that Mr. Lockwell had known of the red planet ten years or more before anyone else.

Even as she considered this, her excitement turned into a chill. According to the article in The Comet The Comet, the most powerful devices used by the Royal Society of Astrographers could resolve Cerephus into no more than a hazy disk, its ruddy surface mottled with dark blotches. Yet the landscape she had glimpsed through the Eye of Ran-Yahgren had looked as near as a scene just outside a window.

It seemed impossible. However, an application of logic only reaffirmed what intuition told her: it could not be chance the red planet had appeared in the sky even as the artifact came to light in the world. No, there could be only one explanation.

The place she had glimpsed through the crystal was was Cerephus. Cerephus.

The newspaper quavered in Ivy's hands. She hastily set it down, lest her sisters detect her trembling. A ringing sounded in her ears, and it was only after a moment that she realized the loud clamor from above had ceased. After enduring the din for so long, the silence was as jarring as any noise. down, lest her sisters detect her trembling. A ringing sounded in her ears, and it was only after a moment that she realized the loud clamor from above had ceased. After enduring the din for so long, the silence was as jarring as any noise.

"Is something wrong, Ivy?" Rose had looked up from her sewing.

"I'm just wondering why it's gotten so quiet all of a sudden," she said briskly, and rose from her chair. "I believe I had better go have a talk with Mr. Barbridge."

As it turned out, Mr. Barbridge had thought the very same thing, for she met him just as she reached the second floor. He had been coming to speak with her. The men had been working on the wall at the end of the gallery, he explained, but all had not gone well.

"As you'll remember, we put up new plaster the other lumenal to replace what had fallen down," the builder said. "This morning I looked and saw it was already starting to crack again. I knew there had to be something amiss, so we tore it all out."

Ivy could not help a wry smile. "So that explains what we heard."

"Begging your pardon, Mrs. Quent, I'm sure the din was awful, but it couldn't be helped. I knew there had to be something deeper in the wall that was causing the cracks. So this time we took out every bit of the plaster and then the lath and timbers behind as well, all the way down to the stone. And when we did, we found...well, I think you should come take a look."

Her curiosity piqued, Ivy followed Mr. Barbridge to the end of the gallery where the laborers stood in a group, tools idle in their hands. She saw that a large section of the wall had indeed been stripped all the way to rough reddish stone.

But this was all to be expected. She started to ask Mr. Barbridge what was so remarkable, but before she could speak the builder motioned his men aside. Then words were beyond her.

A door stood in the stone wall. It was hewn of dark wood, with deep-set panels and thick scrollwork, and was framed by turned columns and crowned with a triangular lintel. The door looked very solid and heavy. Ivy drew closer, marveling at the unexpected sight. turned columns and crowned with a triangular lintel. The door looked very solid and heavy. Ivy drew closer, marveling at the unexpected sight.

"It was covered over at some point," Mr. Barbridge said. "However, the lath wasn't nailed into it and had pulled away, causing the wall to sag. That's why the plaster kept cracking. But you've no cause to worry, Mrs. Quent. The stone couldn't be more sound, and we'll rebuild the facing. The wall will be as good as new by the time we're done."

Ivy told him she had no doubt that it would be. "Yet how odd that there was ever a door here," she said. She pictured the room on the other side of this wall, which she knew to be a bedchamber. "I'm certain there's no door in the room on the opposite side."

Mr. Barbridge agreed. They had already completed the repairs in that room and had found no trace that there had ever been a door.

"But then why would there be a door on this this side?" side?"

Mr. Barbridge shook his head. "I've seen some curious things in the course of my work, Mrs. Quent-cellars no one knew about until a floor fell in, or whole rooms that had been walled in and lost, with tables and chairs and plates all set out as if for supper. Old houses have peculiar histories, and this house is older than many, I would guess."

These words sparked Ivy's curiosity. "How old do you think it is?"

"I can't say for certain. I'm baffled as to what quarry provided the blocks for this house. It's not like any other stone I've ever seen. But from the style of the masonry, I'd say the house was built at least three hundred years ago." The builder laid a hand on the ruddy stone. "By the looks of it, this was once the outer wall of the house. The north wing must have been built at a later time, ab.u.t.ting the other side."

The builder's logic was sound. Yet even if this had been an outer wall at one time, that hardly explained the presence of a door on the second floor, unless perhaps there had once been some sort of balcony on the other side. But given its solid look, it hardly appeared like the sort of portal one might expect to open onto an airy veranda. Rather, it looked like a door meant to shut out the harshest of elements. hardly appeared like the sort of portal one might expect to open onto an airy veranda. Rather, it looked like a door meant to shut out the harshest of elements.

As Ivy stepped nearer, she saw that what she had taken for a kind of scrollwork in the panels was in fact a pattern of interlocking leaves and vines. She brushed the dust from one of the leaves. It was carved with exquisite care, so that she could even make out the tracery of veins in its surface. The wood was still rich beneath a thick coat of varnish.

"What an extraordinary thing," she said.

"As I mentioned, you needn't have a worry, Mrs. Quent," Mr. Barbridge said, perhaps mistaking her wonder for alarm. "Once we've rebuilt the wall, you won't see any trace of the door."

"No," she said, turning toward the builder. "I can't imagine why such a beautiful thing was ever covered up in the first place, nor do I think it should be hidden again."

The builder scratched his dusty beard. "Are you certain, missus? It is very pretty, I grant you, but it has no use anymore. You can see for yourself if you open it. There's nothing but blank stone behind."

She smiled at him. "If it is pretty to look upon, then that is use enough. The door will make a fine piece for conversation. As this room is meant to be a place for gatherings and social affairs, it could serve no better purpose than to induce curiosity and comment."

The builder nodded and a.s.sured her all would be done exactly as she wished. Ivy thanked him, then left the men to their work.

As she descended the stairs, she ran a hand along the banister. Three hundred years! That was how old Mr. Barbridge thought the stonework was. It was another clue to the age of the house. As the refurbishment continued, what other pieces of evidence might come to light?

There was no telling. However, Ivy had no doubt that there were more marvelous things waiting to be discovered. Nor could she wait to share that day's finding with Mr. Quent when he returned at the end of the month.