They wouldn't go into the world of the dead that day, Quirke decided, and nothing Eglamore said could change his mind. "It's too dangerous, and that's that," Quirke said as they settled down for lunch outside the Shadow House. "If we didn't have someone to protect us, we'd be killed instantly, and I won't bring my people into that sort of trouble. What kind of captain would do that?"

"Carver and Donlan don't have anyone to protect them," Eglamore said. "We can't waste any time sitting around."

"We aren't wasting time," Lottie said, her rough voice now sharp and cold. "We're gathering our strength before going on the offensive. We aren't going to just leap into the world of the dead unprepared, but we will go there. If Quirke says we're going to save your girls, then we'll save them, and that's that." She set her hands on her hips and glared, and she had the sort of danger in her eyes that made Eglamore think she might be able to face the world of the dead on her own and be just fine.

But out of the whole group, she was the only one who held that danger. Capable as Quirke might have been, he seemed too soft and gentle to handle whatever lay in the world of the dead, and over the course of the meal, his cheer slipped and fell away. The other men and women in the group – none of whom could have been older than thirty – seemed to be affected by his melancholy, for they became quiet and somber. Lottie was the only one who kept up her spirits, and as soon as they finished eating some bread and fruit, she gathered up everyone and began directing them to various tasks. Only Eglamore, Quirke, and a short-haired woman were exempt from her orders.

Quirke sighed and turned an orange over in his hand. "She looks like she's the one in charge, doesn't she?" he asked, and though he tried to smile, he couldn't hide that his spirits were still low.

"She's a capable leader," Eglamore said carefully.

Quirke threw back his head and laughed, startling the short-haired woman under the tree. "Sorry, Leslie," he said, and she gave him a small smile before letting her gaze go distant again. To Eglamore, he said, "She's very capable. Better than I am, probably." When Eglamore said nothing, Quirke nudged his side with his elbow. "You don't need to worry about hurting my feelings, Eglamore. I'm not as fragile as I look."

"I hadn't thought you were fragile," Eglamore said, but Quirke only shook his head and laughed again, though more quietly this time.

"Everyone thinks I'm fragile," Quirke said when his laughter faded. "I'm too skinny to be strong and too bright to be stable. That's what Lottie says, anyway." He sighed and lay back on the grass, staring up at the sky. "She's usually right about those sorts of things."

"You seem very fond of her," Eglamore said, for lack of anything better to say.

"I ought to be," Quirke said. "She's my wife. Well, not really, but she might as well be." He sat up then, and Eglamore noticed a few strands of grass stuck in his hair. "That sounds so possessive, doesn't it. 'My wife.' Really, I ought to say I'm her husband. She's the one in charge. I just happen to be captain of our little band of hunters. I'm not sure what that says about me or her, aside from maybe that I know when to step back and let her take control. Or perhaps it's the other way around." He grinned at a man carrying firewood, and the man grinned back. "Yeah, it's definitely the other way around. What about you? Have you got a wife?"

"No," Eglamore said at once, and his thoughts went to Surma, beautiful and fiery and lost.

Quirke nodded, apparently knowing better than to ask anything else. "It's rather nice, being married, even if we never wound up making it official in a church. Her last name's still Watson, though I might wind up taking that, or I would if it didn't mean I'd have to change what people call me. Maybe I could be Quirke Watson." He shook his head again. "I'm sorry. I'm babbling, aren't I? Would you rather I stop?"

The man was almost getting on Eglamore's nerves, but he hadn't yet reached the point where he would be obnoxious. There was something almost charming about his brightness, and now that his melancholy was gone again, Eglamore could see why Lottie would love him. Rather than letting Quirke babble on, though, he asked, "Could you tell me what everyone's preparing for?"

"Of course!" Quirke said, and he started pointing around, explaining who was carrying firewood and who was collecting food and who was checking the maps. The names came so quickly that Eglamore knew he wouldn't be able to remember them, but he was able to tell that they were getting ready for an expedition into the world of the dead. There was no food there, he gathered from Quirke's chatter, and firewood would be hard to come by, though he wasn't sure what the point of the map was, especially when Quirke launched into an explanation of the peculiar geography of the world of the dead that Eglamore could barely understand.

Quirke had just begun talking about something that seemed to be at the crux between theology and metaphysics when Eglamore decided to interrupt him. "How will knowing anything about the world of life help us in the world of the dead?" he asked.

Quirke didn't seem at all perturbed by being interrupted, and he broke off midsentence to say, "Well, we need to know where we might come back. There is a way of knowing where we'll end up, though it's very tricky. That's Emma's job." Emma, apparently, was the young woman with a mass of curls who was poring over an old map. "She's a dear girl, very good with maps and such. Bertie over there is looking at maps of the world of the dead."

Bertie was poring over another map as though it were the most important thing in the world, and while Emma had glanced up when she heard her name, he didn't even twitch.

"What will that do for us?" Eglamore asked.

"I honestly don't know," Quirke said. "He says he can see things in the maps that will tell us where to go, and I trust him, but I'm not sure I can explain him." He shivered a little and rubbed his arms. "Everyone else thinks he's calming. I just think he's a little creepy."

"You shouldn't say something like that about your people," Lottie said from behind them, and Quirke leaned back, resting his head against her thighs. "Hello, love," she said, setting a hand on his head.

"Hello," he said, smiling. "And I know. I just thought I'd warn Eglamore, since he's new here."

"You're their captain," Lottie said. "You have to be objective." Her voice sounded a bit softer than before, and she smiled as she worked her fingers into her husband's hair. The danger had mostly faded from her eyes, and she looked almost gentle, though Eglamore noticed her shoulders seemed tense, and whenever she glanced away from Quirke, she looked sharp and careful.

"Do you think we're ready to leave yet?" Quirke asked.

"It's too soon to tell," Lottie said. "We've got to wait for Leslie." Both of them looked to the girl under the tree, who hadn't moved.

Quirke closed his eyes and reached up to take his wife's hands. "Any idea how long that will take?"

"There's no way to tell," Lottie said. "You know that." She glanced to the side and must have caught Eglamore's confused look, for she then said, "Leslie's something of a seer. She can read things in the world of the dead. We don't have to use her too often, but we know she's always right. She'll be able to tell us where the safe paths are, and she ought to be able to find your friends." She frowned and looked to the girl again. "It doesn't usually take her this long, though. Maybe something's wrong."

Just then, Leslie's eyes flew open, and she shot to her feet, gasping and turning pale. Lottie pulled away from her husband and ran to the girl, who had started to tremble and looked as though she might faint. Quirke was on his feet as well, calling for others to help, and Eglamore rose to see whether there was anything he could do for the girl.

It seemed as though there wasn't any need for him to do anything, though. Lottie had guided Leslie to the ground and knelt beside her, speaking in a low voice and stroking the girl's hair. Slowly, Leslie calmed, and after a few minutes, some color returned to her cheeks, though she still looked shaken. Eglamore and Quirke had drawn closer, and though Quirke held out an arm to keep Eglamore from getting too close, Eglamore was still able to hear Lottie ask, "What was it that you saw? Is it any danger to us?"

Leslie shook her head. "Not to us," she said. "I saw the king of the dead, though."

Lottie and Quirke shared an anxious look, one Eglamore didn't know how to read, but he didn't have the time to try before Lottie's attention turned back to Leslie and she asked, "What did he do?"

"Nothing," Leslie said. "He was just sitting on his throne, and Death was by his side." She trembled but quickly added, "She didn't do anything either. She was just there, looking at me. She didn't even say she would see me soon."

Lottie nodded, and though she looked a little impatient, she didn't snap at the girl. "And the king of death? What did he say?"

"Only that he knew what I sought. He told me that the three girls had passed through his world and gone to some other place, but he wouldn't say where." She drew a shaky breath and sat up a little straighter, though her body still quaked. "He was the one who said he would see me soon."

Lottie nodded once and got to her feet. "Tell everyone that we'll still plan to head into the world of the dead," she said to Quirke, her voice sharp and businesslike. "Tell them we're not looking for anyone, though. We've got a new mission, one that I'll reveal when the time is right." Quirke nodded and set off at a run, darting between various people. Once he was gone, Lottie knelt by Leslie again. "Is there anything else you learned?"

Leslie nodded. "There's a message for Eglamore."

"Of course there is," Lottie muttered, and she gestured for Eglamore to join her beside Lottie. He did, and she gave him a look that lay somewhere between angry and amused. "We can't just find some random stranger in a house anymore. The king of the dead has to send him a message. It had better not get my people into any trouble."

Leslie looked into Eglamore's eyes, and there was something unnerving about just how steady her gaze was. Even though her body shook, her eyes were strong, and she set a hand on his arm, though he couldn't tell whether it was to steady herself or to make some sort of connection between the two of them. "It isn't from the king of the dead, at least," she said. "It's from someone named Reynardine."

Eglamore flinched, and both Leslie and Lottie jumped at the sudden movement. Lottie looked suspicious, but Leslie looked concerned and slid her hand down his arm to press over his hand.

"He was a friend of yours, wasn't he?" she asked, offering a small, gentle smile. "I could tell from the way he talked about you. He cares about the girls, too."

"What was the message?" Eglamore asked. His voice was harsher than he had intended, but Leslie didn't seem at all bothered by it, and for a moment he thought she hadn't noticed. Her gaze into his eyes was as steady and unnerving as ever.

"He said that he offers you what he gave to Kat and Annie. If you wish it, he will give you safe passage through the world of the dead, and he'll give that same safety to all your friends." She smiled nervously and glanced to Lottie. "I'll be perfectly safe. We don't need to worry about the king trying to hurt me."

"I wasn't worried about that," Lottie said, though she looked rather relieved. "The king's an honorable man, and he's not the hunter, even if he had no more honor than… well, I promised I wouldn't talk about that one." She got to her feet and dusted off her pants, though there wasn't much she could do for the dirt already on them. "Leslie, will you be all right on your own for a while?"

"I should be," Leslie said.

"Good. Drink some water and sit in the shade for a while. I'll send Quirke to look after you." Lottie gestured with her chin to some trees. "Eglamore, come with me. We need to talk." She set off at once, and Eglamore headed after her, hurrying to keep up.

Lottie walked quickly, and she didn't say a word or even look at him until they were far from the camp. Only when they were out of sight of everyone and she had looked around and personally made sure they weren't being watched did she turn to him, but even then she didn't say a word. She simply watched him for a while, long enough that Eglamore started to wonder whether there was something about this group that he should have known before. They seemed perfectly human, but perhaps they could see things that anyone else wouldn't be able to.

After a few minutes of being watched, he gave up on patience and asked, "What is it? You wanted to talk to me, didn't you?"

"I did," she said. "I'm just trying to figure out how to say this." She sighed and looked back in the direction of the camp. "It's always difficult with someone new. I never know where it would be best to start."

"Try from the beginning," Eglamore said. "That's usually best."

Lottie snorted and rolled her eyes, but she did smile a little. "Fine. I'll do my best to give you a proper explanation, but if you don't understand something, don't blame me. I tried.

"Leslie's different from just about anyone. Some people say she's special. I say she's just lucky not to be broken. She's not as strong as Bertie, but I don't think Bertie could ever do what she can." Lottie frowned and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Damn. Sorry. I'm not starting off very well, am I? Let me try again.

"Leslie can reach into the world of the dead. I don't know how, and I don't really care to know. All I know is that she can do it, and it's damn useful. She can warn us about who Death's coming after next, and we either know to abandon that person or protect them more, depending on whether Death's being persistent or is just casually interested. I suppose we can affect fate because of her, but I've never really believed in fate, so I'm not too sure about how that works. I just know that we can make things work out for us.

"So. Death is the hunter. She is the one who stalks out and collects souls, or whatever it is she does. She must have gone to your friend, this Reynardine, sometime before he died. Not everyone can see her when she comes, and some people see her going to others but not to them. It doesn't always make sense, and I hate it, but it doesn't matter. The point is, Death is the hunter. If she says she will come to you, then you will die, and there's no way around it. That's why I was worried about Leslie. She's useful, but she's also a dear girl, and so I want to protect her for both those reasons.

"But the king of the dead is good. He's fair, and he'll give people a fair chance. He never tries to steal someone before it's their time, not like Death might. If he says he'll see Leslie soon, that doesn't mean she's going to die. She might, but not necessarily. It just means she'll go to the world of the dead, and if she goes, we have to go with her." Lottie's eyes were sharp again, and she had her arms crossed over her chest. "You'll have protection. I don't know why you should have it, but I want you to give Leslie that protection too. The rest of us can die, for all I care. Even me. Even Quirke. Just not Leslie. Do you understand?"

Even if Lottie hadn't been so sharp and threatening, Eglamore would have promised to protect Leslie. The way Lottie and Quirke had treated her had been the way he had treated Donlan, and he wouldn't have let any harm come to either of those girls. "I do," he said.

Lottie nodded once and turned to head back to camp. Eglamore followed her, but it turned out there wasn't all that much for him to do. The preparations had largely finished, and everyone was heading into the Shadow House, no doubt to head for the basement. Quirke stood close to Leslie, but he stepped away just long enough to give Lottie a quick kiss. Once they were inside, Lottie led the way to the basement, and there, everyone crowded around the door.

It was time to enter the world of the dead.