He took another step toward her, and this time Ivy did not retreat.

"I know what I did was a terrible thing," he said, his face lined with sorrow. "I have wronged you in a way that cannot be forgiven, and I know now that Lord Crayford is mistaken. And I know that, whatever it is you mean to do, Lady Quent, it will never be ill for Altania." with sorrow. "I have wronged you in a way that cannot be forgiven, and I know now that Lord Crayford is mistaken. And I know that, whatever it is you mean to do, Lady Quent, it will never be ill for Altania."

An ache grew in Ivy's heart, so that she could no longer feel fear, or sadness, or anger. He had wronged her, yes, and terribly. Yet he had been wronged himself in the most awful ways, first as a child and again by Lord Crayford. She hesitated, then slowly she lifted her hand toward him.

Captain Branfort stared at her, his expression one of shock at first. Then it was a look of wonder that crossed his face. He took a step forward, reaching out his hand toward hers. His fingers brushed her own- -and a shadow rose up behind him, coagulating out of the darkness like a clot from black blood.

He must have seen her eyes go wide, for he frowned at her. Then he turned around to look over his shoulder. As he did, the shadow spread itself wide, then in one swift motion it wrapped around him.

Ivy screamed.

All her life, she had felt a peculiar dread when the day ended and night stole over the world. Sometimes she had the sensation that the darkness was a conscious thing: ancient, hungry, and possessed of a will to smother all light, all life from the world.

As it was now smothering Captain Branfort.

He struggled as if caught in folds of black, tangling cloth. What the thing was that held him in its grasp, she could not say, for its edges melded with the night itself. Here and there she saw a line like a gaping jaw, or a curve as of long talons, but for the most part it was formless. Or rather, its form was of such a bizarre shape, and of such hideous proportions, that her mind could make no sense of it. It was like trying to see the color of night.

There was a bright flash, followed by a sudden deafening noise. A shriek vibrated upon the air-a quivering, loathsome sound that offended the ears as the most noisome offal might the nose. The darkness folded in on itself and slunk back, pooling like a black stain upon the ground. It seemed to absorb all moonlight and starlight that fell upon it-save for the sickly gleam of yellow that reflected off a row of jagged teeth. like a black stain upon the ground. It seemed to absorb all moonlight and starlight that fell upon it-save for the sickly gleam of yellow that reflected off a row of jagged teeth.

Captain Branfort staggered back, his pistol held before him.

"Run!" he cried out.

Ivy could not move. The shadows seemed to coil around her feet, rooting her to the ground.

Captain Branfort looked back over his shoulder at her. His eyes were wild; a black fluid ran down his face, but she did not know if it was his blood or some secretion given off by the dark form.

"I only have one more shot before I must reload," he shouted. "You must get in the house, Lady Quent!"

Before him, the shapeless thing began to stir again. It rose up off the ground, unfolding itself as it did, the edges of its form bubbling and rippling. More teeth appeared as its maw widened.

Captain Branfort's gaze locked upon her own. His face was pale, and there was a pleading in his eyes.

"I beg you, Lady Quent," he said. "You must run to the house. Now!"

At last Ivy was freed of her paralysis. She turned and dashed back along the path. Behind her came another flash, followed by a loud report. Again she heard the thing's awful shriek, only this time it was more a sound of fury than of pain. A moment later came another cry, and this time it was the horrible sound of a man screaming.

The sounds behind her ceased. Ivy sobbed as she ran. She had nearly reached the front steps, only then she remembered that the door was locked. There was no safety for her that way. But where could she go? That Captain Branfort could no longer protect her, she was certain, and the shapeless thing was between her and the gate to the street.

She cast her gaze about wildly-and saw thin, straggled shapes to her left. Only for a moment did she think about it, then she ran toward the little grove of chestnut and hawthorn saplings.

As she went, she dared a glance over her shoulder, and a moan escaped her. A thing of darkness coiled and uncoiled itself in rapid succession, loping across the garden toward her. She flung herself forward, into the midst of the trees. As she did she reached out, gripping the nearest trunk. escaped her. A thing of darkness coiled and uncoiled itself in rapid succession, loping across the garden toward her. She flung herself forward, into the midst of the trees. As she did she reached out, gripping the nearest trunk.

Help me! she cried out, though not with her voice but rather her thoughts. she cried out, though not with her voice but rather her thoughts. Please, help me! Please, help me!

And the trees heard.

Ivy felt anger stir among them like a wind. They knew this shapeless thing that undulated toward her. Its likes had been seen before, in the ancient war long, long ago.

Gol-yagru, she heard the word in her mind. Ashen-slave Ashen-slave.

Yes, they remembered, and they knew what to do. This was their purpose; it was for this they had grown from a seed and put down strong roots. They would not let their witch come to harm.

One more time the dark form uncoiled itself, leaping forward, its teeth glittering like the shards of gla.s.s around the casing of a broken window. Ivy cried out, flinging her hands up, waiting for darkness to enfold her in its smothering embrace.

Instead, it was rough branches that coiled around her. The boughs grasped her like hands, tenderly yet with strength. They bore her up off the ground, and like a child she was carried through the grove, pa.s.sed from limb to limb, and then deposited on the ground at its far edge.

Ivy stumbled backward as the branches released her, and she watched the moonlit scene before her in horror and wonderment. The little trees, which had seemed so scraggly and harmless, whipped back and forth with violent force, their boughs whistling and cracking like horsewhips.

In their midst, she could make out a ball of darkness that flung itself against them. Again it did so, and again; but it could not escape the tangling net of their branches, and their blows beat it back. Even as she watched, the thing's outline began to fray and tatter. Still the trees whipped and beat at the black shape. Its piteous keening rose on the air, then was lost amid the cracking and creaking of branches.

"The daemon that he summoned will not escape," spoke a voice behind her. "You have awakened the trees. They know their purpose, and they will destroy the gol-yagru." voice behind her. "You have awakened the trees. They know their purpose, and they will destroy the gol-yagru."

Ivy screamed and turned around. Before her stood another black form, only this one was shaped as a man. He was tall, and he was garbed not in folds of shadow, but rather ruffs and frills of black cloth. Moonlight highlighted the edges of his ebon mask; it was wrought in a grim expression.

She swooned and might have fallen, but he gripped her arm with a black-gloved hand, holding her upright.

"There is no time for that!" he hissed. "Gambrel has already pa.s.sed through Tyberion. He will be searching for the door to the tomb of the Broken G.o.d. You must get there before him."

Dully, she realized he was speaking audibly, the words emanating from his black mask.

"Go where?" she said.

The mask twisted into a shape of anger. "Did you not hear me? Listen, child, or all is lost! You must get to the tomb before Gambrel. You must keep him from entering it."

She clasped a hand to her head, trying to think. "The house is locked. Even if it weren't, he has already gone through the door. How could I catch up to him?"

"Once he pa.s.sed through Tyberion, he could no longer maintain his binding on the house. You can pa.s.s inside. Besides, you do not need to catch up to him. There is another way to the tomb."

Again she could do no more than echo. "Another way?"

"Do not be so stupid! Why do you think I told you to conceal it?"

"The other door!" she gasped, understanding at last.

Now the mouth of the mask turned upward in a sharp smile. "There, you are not so dull after all. Now come."

He pulled her arm, and she started to follow; only then she halted.

"Captain Branfort," she said. "He is-"

"He is beyond help. It was always his wish to save another, was it not? Do not render his deed meaningless."

Ivy bit her lip, for else she would have burst into weeping. She let the man in the black mask pull her up the steps to the front door. Behind them, the trees had ceased moving; the night was still.

They reached the door. She tried the handle and, as he had said, it was no longer locked. She pushed open the door. The front hall beyond was dark and silent, and she was suddenly loath to enter.

"You have a little time," the man in the black costume said. "But only a little. Gambrel does not know which door on Tyberion is the one that leads to the tomb. He will have to search among them, but he is clever and knows what to look for. It will not take him long to find it. You must go through Arantus at once."

"Go through it? How?"

"Think, child. Did the Black Stork not give you the key?"

Ivy thought of Mr. Samonds's letter. Yes, she did have the key.

"Only where does the door go?"

"To the moon Arantus, just as its name implies. Like Tyberion, Arantus served as a way point during the war against the Ashen long ago, and there are many doors upon it. Yet unlike those on Tyberion, the enemy never knew of these doors, and they were never warred over and ruined. They still retain their enchantment. You must find the right one, and go through it."

A new terror came upon her. Could not a magickal door lead anywhere? "How will I know which is the right one?"

Again his mask formed into a smile. "You will know it. It is the one that will take you closest to the tomb."

"But I do not know where the tomb is!"

"Then cease your interruptions for a moment and listen to me. The tomb of the Broken G.o.d lies within the Evengrove. That is the reason why so great a strand of primeval forest was allowed to exist all these centuries. That is why the great wall was raised around it-not to imprison the Wyrdwood, but to imprison Neth-Bragga."

A hope sprang up within Ivy. She thought of the little trees in the garden, and how they had recognized the shadowy form and knew what to do with it. Were not the trees of the Evengrove far greater, and far more numerous? the garden, and how they had recognized the shadowy form and knew what to do with it. Were not the trees of the Evengrove far greater, and far more numerous?

"Surely if Gambrel frees the Broken G.o.d, the trees will turn against it," she said. However, her relief was quickly negated by his reply.

"Indeed, they would turn against Neth-Bragga with the greatest force and violence, and that is precisely Gambrel's intention in freeing the Broken G.o.d. To have a powerful Ashen awaken in their midst would induce in the trees a terrible fury such as the world has not seen since ancient days. Already calls go out in a.s.sembly for the Evengrove and the Wyrdwood to be destroyed, and this after only a few, pitifully small Risings. Imagine what demands would be shouted if the entire Evengrove were to rise up and throw down Madiger's Wall in a rage to destroy Neth-Bragga?"

Ivy stared at his onyx face, and a coldness gripped her. "It would be burned down," she whispered. "All of it."

He nodded. "That is what Gambrel wants, for that is what the Ashen want-for men to cut down and destroy every last Old Tree, until there is not a sc.r.a.p of Wyrdwood left in all of Altania."

Ivy thought of how the little hawthorns and chestnuts had fought against the gol-yagru-how they had torn apart its dark form-and she began to understand. The Ashen could only loathe the Wyrdwood, and fear it. Which meant, at all cost, it must be preserved.

She drew in a breath. "What must I do?"

"Go through Arantus, as I said. Find the door that will take you to the Evengrove. Once you reach the tomb, you will see another door-the one that leads to the moon Tyberion. It is through this door Gambrel will come. You must bind it with magick so he cannot come through."

"Bind it? I cannot work magick."

"No, but your friend Mr. Rafferdy is a very powerful magician. You must retrieve him and take him to the tomb. Even now, he and one of his companions wait beside Madiger's Wall, for they were sent there by their order. There is a door there in the wall."

She nodded. "Yes, I've seen it. It opens into the Evengrove."

"Rafferdy's companion has been tasked to open the door. He does not know the reason-to provide Gambrel a way to escape the Wyrdwood. For once the tomb is broken, there will be no way for him to go back through the door to Tyberion. Neth-Bragga will destroy all around it in its fury. Thus Gambrel previously made sure that an initiate could open the door in the wall. There is a path fashioned with the same red stones as the tomb of the Broken G.o.d that leads from the tomb to the door. It is Gambrel's only way out."

Ivy shuddered, thinking of Mr. Rafferdy standing at the door as the Broken G.o.d was freed and the Wyrdwood rose up in fury. Neth-Bragga will be angry after eons of imprisonment Neth-Bragga will be angry after eons of imprisonment, Gambrel had said, and I do not wish for him to turn his wrath upon me and I do not wish for him to turn his wrath upon me....

Her eyes went wide. Mr. Rafferdy was in the gravest peril!

"What are you waiting for, child?" The man in the mask gripped her arm, shaking her. "Go! And be sure to lock Tyberion before you go through Arantus. That way he will have no escape."

With that, he pushed her through the door into the house.

She stared back at him. "What of you?"

His shoulders heaved as he drew in a breath. For the first time, Ivy realized that he seemed weary. His ruffled costume was crooked and ill adjusted, as if hastily thrown on. The onyx mask was slightly askew, and there was a slight gap between it and his cowl, from which a stray lock of pale hair protruded.

"I can be no help to you among the trees," he said, his voice haggard. "I do not think Gambrel summoned more daemons, for that is not easily done. Yet he might have, so I will watch for more gol-yagru. Now get yourself to Arantus and through it-quickly, before all is lost!"

He turned in a flutter of black frills and lace. Ivy gazed out the door of the house for a moment, her heart pounding.

Then she turned and ran. She dashed across the front hall, her footsteps echoing, and through the door to the library. With fumbling fingers she opened the desk drawer and took out the Wyrdwood box. As she touched it, her hands grew steadier, and a warmth crept into her fingers.

With a thought she opened the box and took out the little piece of Wyrdwood. Now that she knew what its true shape was, she wondered how she had not seen it before. She closed her fingers around the piece of wood. Be what you are! Be what you are! she called out in her mind. Then she opened her hand. she called out in her mind. Then she opened her hand.

On her palm lay a leaf, perfectly carved of wood.

A sigh of pleasure escaped her; it had felt good to shape the wood-or rather, to unshape it. Gripping the leaf, she turned and dashed out of the library, then up the stairs to the gallery on the second floor.

She went first to the door in the south wall, to Tyberion. As she drew near, she detected an acrid smell, like that which had permeated the air after Captain Branfort fired his gun. There were black marks on the floor. The door was not shut all the way, but rather had been left slightly ajar, so that there was a small crack. Ivy hesitated a moment, then she bent forward and peered through the gap.

A breath of wonder escaped her. Through the door, she glimpsed not a brick wall, but a barren, gray-blue plain, its surface pockmarked and littered with jagged rocks. Above the curved horizon, brilliant stars blazed in the sky alongside an enormous violet sickle shape, like a gigantic crescent moon.

Only it wasn't a moon, she knew. Rather, it was the planet Dalatair, and the place through the door was the face of its satellite, Tyberion. Her eyes roved further, and here and there she saw shapes that stood up from the ground: archways fashioned of the gray-blue stone. They were doorways, though those close enough to see contained only darkness within their frames. Above the doors she detected a faint bluish shimmer against the black void, like a dome of azure gla.s.s.

Ivy blinked. How long had she been standing there, fascinated by the sights through the door? Now she remembered her task, and a fresh urgency came over her. She pulled on the door, shutting it with a click click. Then she examined it in the pale light that came through the windows. After a moment she saw it: the piece of wood carved like a gem. It was, as she had guessed, set into the pommel of the sword carved upon the door. Ivy reached out and gripped the wooden jewel with her fingertips. pommel of the sword carved upon the door. Ivy reached out and gripped the wooden jewel with her fingertips.

The key to Tyberion came away in her hand.

Ivy could not help a small smile as she slipped the key into her pocket. Gambrel would not be coming back this this way. way.

Now to the other door. Ivy turned and moved swiftly across the gallery. The shroud that covered it glowed in the moonlight. She cast it aside, revealing Arantus.

Several times before, as she looked at the door, she had felt there was something missing from it, only she hadn't been able to discern what it was. Perhaps it was an effect of the moon's illumination, or perhaps it was because she knew now what it was that was missing. Either way, this time she saw it at once. In the center of the door was an odd shadow: a slight gap in the pattern of the carved leaves. There was just s.p.a.ce enough where one more might fit. She took the wooden leaf and set it into the niche in the door.

There was a click click, and the door swung open.

"Oh," Ivy murmured.

The sight before her was not unlike what she had glimpsed through the door Tyberion, only the surface of this moon was smoother: a pale gray-green marked by ripples and crisscrossed by fine lines. The lavender crescent of Dalatair hung in the sky, though at a different angle, and the stars all around it blazed like diamonds and emeralds and sapphires. Ivy drew in a breath, holding it.

Then she stepped through the door.

At once a coldness bit into her skin, as bitter as the shortest, coldest lumenal. Her breath escaped her in a gasp of surprise, fogging upon the air. She drew in another, stuttering lungful. She had feared the atmosphere upon the moon might be a poisonous miasma. Instead, while there was a stale, metallic taste to it, and it was viciously cold, the air seemed to cause no harm to her. She looked up and, as on Tyberion, saw a faint dome of translucent blue overhead. It was as the man in the mask had said-some enchantment protected this place from the aether of the heavens.

Ivy cast a glance behind her. Through the door she could still see the moonlit gallery. Rea.s.sured, she walked across the dusty blue plain. Just ahead, she saw them: stone doorways that scattered the surface of the moon. Unlike those she had glimpsed through Tyberion, these doors led not to empty darkness. Rather, she could glimpse faint light through them. see the moonlit gallery. Rea.s.sured, she walked across the dusty blue plain. Just ahead, she saw them: stone doorways that scattered the surface of the moon. Unlike those she had glimpsed through Tyberion, these doors led not to empty darkness. Rather, she could glimpse faint light through them.

She approached the first one, and she let out an exclamation of delight, for it was like looking out the window of her attic room at Heathcrest Hall. She saw rolling moors bathed in moonlight, and not far off a line of straggled shapes bounded by a stone wall.

Ivy hurried to the next doorway. This time there was less light, and it took a moment to make out a tangle of black trunks and crooked branches. A rushing sound emanated from the doorway as a wind stirred their leaves. Was this where she needed to go?

No. It was a grove of Wyrdwood, but these trees were not thick and tall enough. She moved on, hurrying to the next door, and the next. Through a few of them she saw other copses of Old Trees, sometimes nearby, sometimes at a distance. However, most of the doors gazed out over empty fields or opened onto cobbled streets.