May 1817

Childermass could be very good at talking to people when he wanted to be, Segundus reflected. Now, for instance, Childermass was conversing quite easily with the valet while Segundus sat awkwardly at the servant's table, pretending to drink his tea. And earlier, Childermass had somehow convinced the hall boy who had answered his knock that it was quite regular for two magicians (one shabby and one rather ragged; neither of them respectable) to want to speak to a housemaid late at night after the servants' supper, while Segundus had hovered awkwardly behind, clutching his hat and feeling very out-of-place. They were Childermass's people, he supposed. He wondered who his own people were. Not gentlemen, certainly, for he was too poor for most gentlemanly interests. Not magicians either, or at least not gentlemen magicians, though with the return of the Raven King and magic there were all sorts of magicians now. The Honeyfoots were his people, Segundus decided, and Mrs. Lennox and Mrs. Sparrow, and possibly Childermass as well, if he wanted.

Maggie came downstairs after she finished her evening duties. The housekeeper was kind enough to allow them the use of her sitting room, so they each took an armchair around the comfortable fire as a kitchen maid served them tiny glasses of port. Maggie held her glass in a nervous hand while Segundus did his best to always look like he was about to take a sip without ever actually drinking. He wanted to keep his wits about him.

Childermass didn't touch his port. Instead, he puffed at his pipe and blew smoke rings upward until they were alone. "So, Maggie," he said to the ceiling. "You have been lying to me."

Maggie looked away and then back at him in consternation. A few blonde wisps of hair had escaped her cap, and she pushed them back. "Aye. I suppose it's no good pretending, now."

"No, it is not."

They sat in silence for what seemed like half an hour to Segundus, but he knew was likely no more than thirty seconds. Maggie was the first to crack.

"Is that all?"

"No," said Childermass.

Maggie made a noise of irritation. "Ask, then."

"Are you feeding information on the Johannites to Captain Oakes of the militia?"

"Of course not!" Maggie looked surprised. Whatever question she had been expecting, Segundus thought, it had not been that one. "I've never even met the man."

"Is that so?" Childermass said. He puffed on his pipe. "Because you and he have remarkably similar ideas about the Johannites."

"Did he name me as an informant?"

"No, he didn't know the names of any of the Johannites." Maggie twitched, an expression of guilt flickering across her face, and Childermass smiled. "Thought so."

Segundus sipped at his port. Maybe a drink would not be such a bad idea, after all.

"You've found me out, I suppose," said Maggie. "Well, there you have it. Happy now, John? Really, it was very clever of you. Is that what you want me to say?"

Childermass just watched her, his dark gaze heavy on her restless shoulders. "Why?"

"For the people we used to be," Maggie said quietly. "So that no one else has to do the things we did. For a better world for the people we are and the people we love." Her eyes flicked to Segundus, then back to Childermass, and Childermass's fingers tightened around the stem of his pipe.

"Why send us to Mr. Ainsworth and Mr. Hastings but not the others?"

"I thought they'd put you off."

"Mr. Hastings did, right enough," said Childermass. "Mr. Ainsworth though…" He gestured with his pipe. "He was more forthcoming. He made a very convincing case for your cause."

"I'll bet he did," Maggie muttered. She swallowed her port in one go. "So is that it? That's all you want to say?"

"No." Childermass blew another smoke ring at the ceiling. "I want you to arrange meetings with the rest of the Johannites." Maggie raised her eyebrows in surprise, and Childermass shot her an unpleasant smile. "Will that be possible?"

"Why do you want to meet them?" asked Maggie.

"Because I want to convince the lot of you to stop this foolish business before you're all hanged or shot," Childermass said. His tone was casual, but his eyes were darkly burning. Maggie couldn't look away, and neither could Segundus. "Mr. Ainsworth and Mr. Hastings are lost causes. They're rebels through and through. That leaves you and two or three others, according to Captain Oakes."

Maggie looked down at her empty port glass. "You may be too late."

"What do you mean?" Maggie said nothing, and Childermass sighed. "You don't need to protect them from me, of all people. I'm hardly going to hand them over to the militia, am I?"

Maggie deliberated for some time, staring into the fire. Childermass didn't interrupt her thoughts. When she spoke, her voice was barely louder than a whisper. "They're going to make a move. The men are planning on burning down the mill."

Segundus nearly choked on his port.

Childermass was silent for a long moment. Segundus thought he was holding his breath, but no— he could see the other magician's chest rise and fall slowly. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. "What about the women?" he asked eventually.

Maggie shot him a tiny smile. "We have more sense."

Childermass snorted. "I wouldn't be too sure." He took a long draw of his pipe. "How many?"

"Three men. You met Oliver and Mr. Ainsworth already. The third is a Mr. James Goddard."

"Oliver?"

Maggie blushed. "Mr. Hastings. We are… close friends."

Segundus could almost see Childermass filing that piece of information away for future use. "And the women?"

"Only one other. Her name is Milly Greene."

Childermass frowned. "Greene, like the name on the mill?"

"No relation."

"Are you certain?"

"She's a governess," said Maggie. "She works with me here."

"Do you know the Christian name of the man who owns the mill?"

"I do not," Maggie said, "but I know he is a baron in Leicestershire. Mr. Hastings informed us all several months ago. He is a politically-minded man."

Childermass made a thoughtful humming noise. "She wouldn't be the first impoverished peer who had to take work as a governess."

"She's one of us," Maggie said firmly.

Childermass raised his hands in a gesture of capitulation.

Segundus finally found his voice. "Why do they want to burn down the mill?" The question came out a bit strangled.

"They think they're being ignored," Childermass said without taking his eyes off Maggie.

Maggie scoffed. "We are being ignored."

"It's we, now, is it?" asked Childermass.

"Honestly, John," Maggie said with a sigh. "We're not your enemies."

"That remains to be seen," said Childermass darkly. "When?"

Maggie shrugged. "I don't know. Milly and I left the meeting. I think the men want us to have plausible deniability."

"Or they don't want anyone who's not in on the plan to know the details." Childermass paused and frowned, and Segundus had the distinct sense that the other magician had noticed something nobody else had. "Why are you telling me now?"

"I don't want them to go through with it," Maggie said, "and you're the only one who might be able to stop them without turning them in."

"We haven't yet been successful in that regard."

Maggie made a noise of frustration. "Then use magic!"

Childermass shook his head. "It doesn't work like that," he said, but his expression was thoughtful, and Segundus knew the vestiges of an idea were swirling in his mind. Hopefully, the idea would turn into a plan. "You would sabotage your friends' plan?"

Maggie bit her lip but nodded. "Mr. Ainsworth and Mr. Goddard have wives. Hastings— Mr. Hastings— has two daughters. I can't let them get themselves thrown in prison or worse."

"You were happy enough to get yourself thrown in after them, apparently."

"Will you help me or not?" Maggie snapped.

"Of course we will help," Segundus was quick to assure her. "Won't we, Mr. Childermass?"

Maggie watched Childermass intently, waiting for his answer. She let out a quiet sigh of relief when he nodded once. "Oh, thank God," she said. "What can I do to help?"

"Haven't you done enough?" asked Childermass.

Segundus shot him a dirty look. "Any more information you can find out about the arson," he said, "please tell us."

"And the meetings," Childermass added. "I'll still want to speak to Mr. Goddard and Miss Greene, if possible."

"Miss Greene doesn't support the men's scheme any more than I do."

"Two informants are better than one, particularly when the one has proven herself to be a liar." Childermass smiled at Maggie unpleasantly.

Maggie nodded grudgingly. "I'm certain I can get something of the men's plan out of Hastings."

Childermass took a pull from his pipe and sent a smoke ring floating toward the ceiling, where a light haze was gathering. "Is he your lover, Maggie?"

Maggie inclined her head to indicate Segundus. "Is he yours?"

Segundus let out a shocked little noise, but neither of them paid him any mind.

Childermass downed his port in one swallow and stood. He pointed his pipe at Maggie. "Arrange the meetings. Write me at the Bridge Inn when it's done." He grabbed Segundus's port from his hands and drank what remained of it as well, then pulled Segundus to his feet. They left Maggie looking a little smug and not at all surprised in the housekeeper's sitting room and saw themselves out of the kitchen door.

Childermass set a brisk pace down the lane that led away from Duffield Hall. "Bloody difficult woman. We'd have got no more information out of her tonight," he said by way of explanation. He was angry, Segundus could tell, though the anger seemed unfocused and directionless. It radiated off him into the night.

Segundus didn't know what he should do with Childermass's anger. Was he supposed to apologize? He didn't think so; he was not the cause of it (at least, he didn't think he was). Should he let Childermass stew in it until he came out of it on his own? That didn't seem like the correct answer either. Before he was able to formulate a plan, Childermass spoke.

"I am sorry about my sister," he said. "She's always been…" He trailed off without offering an adjective to describe Maggie, but Segundus got the gist of it.

"There is no need to apologize," Segundus assured him. "She gave me no offense."

"She likes to embarrass people. I did not want her playing her games with you." From the little of Childermass's face Segundus could see in the dark, he looked stricken.

"I was not embarrassed," said Segundus quietly. "Were you?"

"Certainly not. Maggie was always aware of my inclinations, even since we were children. She may have guessed at it before I even knew. You need not fear; she would never tell."

"I meant…" Segundus fidgeted with the frayed sleeve of his jacket. He couldn't quite articulate exactly what he had meant. "About me. I am— not so very much."

Childermass stopped in his tracks and turned to face Segundus. His back was to a streetlamp and his face was in shadow, but Segundus could still make out the complicated expression of happiness and sorrow that twisted his features. He laid his hands on either side of Segundus's face with tremendous care, much like he had the first time they had kissed. "You are," Childermass said, his voice pitched low, "everything."

Segundus lay a hand on Childermass's wrist where his jacket sleeve had ridden up a bit. He was very warm there, Segundus noted rather woozily. He wondered if Childermass was going to kiss him, but not for long. He felt rather than heard Childermass cast a spell, and then they were kissing on the sidewalk in the light of the streetlamp. It didn't last long, but the intensity of it left Segundus breathless and brought a pink tinge to Childermass's face.

They didn't speak again until they were safely ensconced in the darkness of their room, instead exchanging soft glances and secret smiles and quick touches, all the artifices of two men who must be subtle. After performing his nightly routine and putting on his nightshirt, Segundus crawled into bed and pulled the covers up to his chin. He had little energy for anything else that night.

It seemed Childermass felt the same, for he blew out the candle and clambered into bed next to Segundus without initiating anything. He felt around with his hand until he found Segundus's wrist, which he curled his fingers around.

The gentle, almost chaste touch shook something loose in Segundus. He had to know— something. He couldn't think what. But he had to give voice to the turmoil that suddenly rose in his chest. He took a deep breath. "Are we—" he couldn't quite bring himself to say the word lovers. "What Maggie said?"

Childermass turned to face him. Segundus hoped that his reddened cheeks wouldn't be visible in the weak moonlight that filtered through the curtain. "Do you want us to be?"

"Do you?" Segundus returned.

"Please," said Childermass wearily. "I have had quite enough hunting for answers today. Tell me plain."

"Yes," said Segundus. "Yes, John, I want that." It came out as barely a whisper, but he was sure Childermass had heard, for the grip on his wrist tightened and he was hauled across the narrow bed and into Childermass's arms.

"Then that is what we are," Childermass said roughly into his ear. He kissed Segundus again and again, his pace frantic, almost desperate, as though their time was somehow limited. Kisses landed on Segundus's lips and cheeks and nose and jawline; though his skin was overheated, Childermass's burning mouth was hotter still.

How lucky I am, Segundus thought, his lips swollen and his breath coming in heaves, to have a lover with such talented lips. A spark of joy ran down his spine.

Gradually, their frantic pace slowed and sweetened and ceased. Segundus yawned widely, and Childermass seemed to agree with the sentiment. He rearranged them so Segundus's back was pressed up against his front. Segundus felt one last brush of lips against his temple before sleep embraced him with velvet arms.

Segundus had a lover. He had never had one before, but he did now. The thought kept recurring to him at odd points during the morning, such as when he was combing his hair or when he reached for another slice of toast at breakfast, and he couldn't help but smile foolishly every time. He had never thought of himself as the type of man who would have a lover. And perhaps just as exciting was the idea that he himself was Childermass's lover! The first time this thought struck him, he told himself that he was being very foolish, because naturally if Childermass was his lover then he was Childermass's. That was how these things worked, he was given to understand. Even so, the thought that Childermass might choose him, of all people— well! The leaves of happiness in his chest grew stronger and greener in the sunshine of this new knowledge, and a few flower buds sprouted for good measure.

No message arrived from Maggie that morning, so Childermass and Segundus spent the time poring over Vinculus, thoroughly engaged in the work of translation— at least ostensibly. What occurred in reality was a strange verbal fencing match between Childermass and Brandon, with Segundus as a reluctant referee who had no idea of the rules and would really rather focus on the King's Letters.

"You have a true gift with languages," Childermass said at one point. "We are fortunate indeed that you are here to lend your eyes and mind to the task."

"Not at all, not at all," replied Brandon. "I am impressed by how much has been translated so far."

"It has been the effort of many magicians combined," said Segundus. He did not like Childermass's insolence, nor the cold tone in which Brandon replied, but he may as well have stayed silent for all the attention the other men paid him.

"It's an astonishing effort, especially from magical societies that were only recently re-formed after being broken for so long." Brandon looked up at Childermass. "And what a tragedy that any and all books that might help us are gone."

Childermass set his jaw and gave no reply.

"I must commend you, sir," Brandon said sometime later as they took a break for midmorning tea. "You are exceptionally well-learned."

Childermass watched him as though expecting some kind of a trick. "No more than my present company, Vinculus excluded."

"My education was of a different sort," Vinculus said wisely.

"Ah," said Brandon. His face twisted into an unpleasant sort of smile. "For a man of your birth to achieve such learning is remarkable."

"Is it not even more remarkable, sirs," said Segundus with some distress, "that we are all magicians gathered here to study practical magic? Such a thing has only ever been a dream to me, yet here we are."

"Indeed, Mr. Segundus," Childermass said. His eyes didn't leave Brandon's face. "Most remarkable. As the Reader of the Raven King's Book, appointed by John Uskglass himself, I must say I am fortunate to have the assistance of such knowledgeable magicians."

Around this time, Segundus developed quite a headache and insisted on stepping outside for a breath of fresh air. "No, no, do not trouble yourself, sir," he said as Childermass made to stand. "I will not be gone long." Even so, Childermass followed him out of the inn and down the cobblestone street.

"I cannot spend another minute with that smug bastard," Childermass said. "Where are you headed?"

"I thought I might go back to the little courtyard with the apple tree," said Segundus. "It is not raining this time."

Childermass glanced up at the sky. "Not yet, at least." He seemed to be in a foul mood. He glared at streetlamps and storefronts as they passed, and his footsteps thudded rather more heavily against the sidewalk than they otherwise would.

Segundus let him work through his temper in his own time. That seemed to be the best way to manage Childermass's moodiness: to let him mull a while in his own bitterness until it drained away and left him clean. Segundus did not think Childermass would enjoy having his sulk interrupted, especially since it was sure to pass on its own.

His guess was right; by the time they reached the little stone courtyard, Childermass's mood seemed to have lifted. He no longer glared or grumbled, and his steps were lighter. He leaned against the wall of the courtyard and lit his pipe, which seemed to relax him. He was almost smiling as Segundus leaned beside him, heedless of the wear he was causing his jacket.

"How is your headache?" Childermass asked on a stream of smoke.

"Better," said Segundus. He took a deep breath of the lilied air and felt the pain recede slightly, as though the very scent were an analgesic.

"Good, good," Childermass said distractedly. Something seemed to catch his eye. He squinted at the stone tree in the center of the courtyard. "John, do you see—" He didn't continue.

"See what?" Segundus asked. He followed Childermass's gaze, which seemed to focus alternately on the tree and somehow beyond the tree.

"There is summat," muttered Childermass. He frowned at the tree. "You do not see it?"

Segundus peered at the tree. It looked much the same as it had before, perhaps a bit lighter now that it was not wet. "What is there to see?"

"Perhaps it is nothing," Childermass said. He shook his head quite hard like a dog shaking water from its fur. Segundus almost giggled at the unlikely comparison.

"You seem much recovered, John," noted Childermass. "Shall we go back? It is nearly time for luncheon."

Segundus agreed. "You should not let Brandon needle you so," he said as they made their way through the streets of Duffield.

"He reminds me of Lascelles," said Childermass. His fingers brushed almost absently over the scar on his cheek.

Segundus suppressed a shudder. "Dreadful man."

"Aye." Childermass seemed to lose himself in his thoughts, and Segundus did not disturb him until they reached the Bridge Inn.

They took an early luncheon without Vinculus and Brandon, who was eager to continue his translation. "No," he said when they invited him. "I tread a dark path, but I see a light up ahead."

Childermass rolled his eyes at that. He did not seem displeased by their absence, and was cheered even further by the arrival of a message from Maggie during luncheon. "Miss Greene will meet us at half-pas' four at the tea-house on King Street." He quirked an eyebrow. "Rather on the nose, is it not?"

"Do you think Maggie will have warned her against us?" Segundus asked.

"Undoubtedly," said Childermass. "I only hope she has not misrepresented me too egregiously."

"Shall I remain quiet unless you have need of my respectability, sir?" Segundus tried to keep his tone light, but some tinge of bitterness must have seeped into his tone.

Childermass looked at him in surprise. "Is owt amiss?"

Segundus took a gulp of tea to cover his discomfort. "You seem to be getting on well enough with the investigation on your own," he muttered. "I do not like feeling useless."

Childermass was silent for so long that Segundus began to think he would get no reply. "We are in a situation which favors my particular skills over yours, at least for the time," he said finally. "I am very good at convincing people to leave off certain activities and behaviors." He glanced at Segundus. "As you know."

Segundus's mouth arranged itself into a moue quite on its own.

"But I am not a diplomat," Childermass continued. "And gentlefolk respond to me with suspicion, not trust, as they do you."

"So it is about respectability," said Segundus.

Childermass shook his head. "Nay, it is about knowing which approach to take to get what we want. Miss Greene may very well respond to your polite manners much more readily than to my own. We shall not know while we meet her."

Segundus nodded slowly, mollified, and they finished their luncheon shortly after.

At four, Childermass and Segundus made their excuses to Vinculus and Brandon and slipped out of the private parlor. Brandon barely looked up from his work as they left. It was rather early to be going, as the tea-house on King Street was scarcely a five minute walk from the Bridge Inn, but Childermass insisted on arriving before they were expected in case Maggie planned some kind of trick.

There was no trick, at least none that Childermass detected, but a well-dressed woman in a neat tan spencer stood as they arrived. "Mr. Childermass and Mr. Segundus, I presume?" she called across the sunny parlor.

Childermass muttered an oath under his breath. "I should have known she would expect me to be early," he said, quietly enough that his voice wouldn't carry. "She wanted to catch me off-guard."

"And did she?" Segundus asked.

Childermass smiled grimly. "Not as much as she hoped."

They approached the woman, who boldly offered her hand to each of them in turn. Closer up, Segundus could see that she had a sweet face with high cheekbones and merry brown eyes. She wore a narrow-brimmed hat with a bouquet of fabric flowers, and two dark curls hung neatly on either side of her face. "I am Miss Greene," she said. "I regret Maggie is not here to make proper introductions, but she has introduced you well enough to me already."

"I had thought she might," said Childermass. "Shall we have some tea?"

"Please," said Miss Greene.

They ordered tea and sandwiches, and Miss Greene and Childermass studied each other. Just when Segundus was beginning to feel invisible, Miss Greene switched her attention to him, and he did his best to make the small notes about her appearance that she was undoubtedly making about his. Her clothes were well-made and fashionable, and her hands looked smooth and uncalloused. Her skin was pale, and her nails were clean and manicured. Her accent was nearly perfect King's English. In short, she had all of the qualities a great family might want in a governess.

"It is Maggie's hope that we might be friends," Miss Greene said after she finished her inspection of each of them in turn. "If that is to be the case, I ask that you call me by my Christian name, which is Milly."

"And if we are not to be friends, Miss Greene?" said Childermass carefully.

"Then I would see no point in continuing this meeting."

Childermass inclined his head. "As you say, Milly."

"Thank you, John."

The tea arrived then, and they each busied themselves with adding milk and sugar to their individual tastes. Childermass slurped somewhat noisily at his tea— something Segundus had never heard him do— and the corners of Milly's mouth turned down for a split second as though in disapproval. Childermass caught Segundus's eye and gave him a tiny nod.

"You are a friend of Maggie's?" Segundus asked over the rim of his teacup. It was difficult for him to speak of Childermass's sister with such familiarity, given that he had only met her twice and had barely said five sentences to her altogether, but he thought the meeting would go better if he went along with the informality Milly had insisted upon.

"I am," said Milly.

"How did the two of you meet?"

"I am the governess at Duffield Hall," Milly said. "We have been friends since I took the position last year."

"I have done some tutoring myself, now and again," said Segundus. "How do you find the work?"

"I like it well enough." Milly set her teacup down. "You wanted to meet with me for a reason, and it was not to exchange banal pleasantries. Shall we skip ahead to the point?"

"Aye." Childermass set his teacup down as well and leaned forward. "You are a Johannite."

Milly met his gaze unflinchingly. "I am."

"Do the family at Duffield Hall know?"

"Are you threatening my position, John?" She smiled. "It will not work, you know. Maggie has told me about the way you carry on, but I have committed no acts of treason, and I have the loyalty of the family."

"Ah." Childermass nodded. "So Oliver Hastings convinced Maggie, and Maggie convinced you, but you are just a rebel for a lark."

Milly did not appear troubled by Childermass's judgement. "If that's what you want to believe."

"What we want is the truth," said Segundus.

"No," Milly corrected. "What you want is to convince me to spy on the other Johannites for you."

"Which should be no hardship to you, if Maggie is correct in believing that you disavow their current actions," Childermass said.

Milly sat back in her chair. "You're asking me to betray my friends."

Childermass shook his head. "I'm asking you to help me— and Maggie— save your friends from prison and an unjust trial."

Milly raised her teacup to him as if in a toast. "That being the case, tell me why you want to stop the rebellion. If you are convincing enough, perhaps I will do as you say."

"England is in great turmoil," Segundus said. "The return of magic and the Raven King both upset the order of things. The following years will bring political and social unrest."

"That is generally the goal of a rebellion," said Milly.

"Too much of it will tear the country apart," Segundus continued. "The rebellions in Yorkshire and Nottingham ended with executions. If any of you are killed, you will become martyrs. Violence will escalate, and England will be split asunder by a civil war." It was perhaps not as elegantly put as Childermass had done, but Segundus thought it sounded appropriately dire.

Milly's fingers tightened around her teacup. "I am well aware of the consequences."

Segundus leaned closer. "We know about the men's plan," he said quietly. "We want to stop it. We are on your side, Milly."

Milly pressed her lips together. "How do you know which side I am on?"

"Maggie told us." Segundus said. "You do not want a revolution any more than we do."

Milly said nothing, just gazed at him impassively.

Childermass sighed in frustration. "We're trying to help you."

"Have you considered that I do not want your help?" asked Milly. "Do you not understand that all your poking around is only making things more dangerous for us? Your joke of an investigation will not escape the militia's attention much longer, and it will only draw the captain's eye to us."

"Maggie asked for our help to prevent the civil war your friends seem hell-bent on starting," Childermass growled. His hands tightened on his teacup, and Segundus was surprised the delicate china didn't shatter. "You ought to think about your priorities, Miss Greene. The captain's attention will fall upon you as well, unless we can stop this bloody revolution."

Milly seemed to waver for a moment. She looked down at her teacup but did not drink from it. "You do not know what you are asking of me."

"We know we are asking you to act as an informant against your friends," Segundus said quietly. For some reason, Milly let out a sharp, mirthless laugh at that. "I am sure it feels very much like a betrayal, but we are trying to protect you."

"I will have to think about this," Milly said in a small voice. "You have given me much to consider. Good day, gentlemen." She stood to leave, and Segundus stood as well, but Childermass shook his head.

"One more question," he said, his eyes intent on Milly's face. "You say we do not know what we ask of you. Does Maggie know?"

Milly looked faintly troubled at that. "Can anyone truly know," she said, "what lies in another's heart?"

"I suppose not," said Childermass with some impatience. "But you are concealing something from us. Does Maggie know of it?"

"I could not tell you what Maggie does or does not know."

Childermass huffed a laugh. "You sound like Maggie yourself."

"I take that as a compliment," said Milly with a smile. "She is a well-spoken woman. It does me credit to be compared to her."

"We seem to be getting rather off topic," Segundus said.

"The topic is closed," said Milly. She drained her teacup from where she stood. "You have not managed to convince me to feed you information on the activities of my friends. In all honesty, I do not believe you could have. I am no traitor." Her smile looked somewhat forced.

"Then why bother meeting us at all?" Segundus asked as he and Childermass stood as well.

Milly adjusted her hat. "I was curious. And Maggie asked me to."

"So you did, just like that?" said Childermass.

Milly nodded. "Just like that."

"You must hold my dear sister in very high regard."

"I do. She has been a good friend to me." A strange look crossed Milly's face, there one instant and gone the next. Segundus couldn't be sure, but it looked like guilt. "Good day, gentlemen. I expect we shall see each other again soon."

Childermass and Segundus remained standing until she passed through the door and out onto the street, then Childermass sat with a sigh. Segundus followed suit. "Bloody fanatics," Childermass muttered as he filled his pipe. "They see the revolutions in France and America and think it would be a fine thing to have one of our own. Not one among them knows what war looks like."

"And you do?" Segundus said doubtfully.

Childermass looked at him through a veil of smoke. "Better than any of them."

They lapsed into silence, Segundus sipping his tea and Childermass smoking his pipe, a faraway look on his face. When his pipe was finished (Segundus assumed), he stood abruptly and swallowed the rest of his tea in one gulp. "Come, John," he said. "I want to go back to the stone tree."

"Why?" Segundus asked, though he stood as well.

Childermass shook his head. "I cannot explain it. There is some magic about the place that calls me. I am… drawn to it."

"Then we shall go!" Segundus grew excited at the prospect of magic. "We must not delay."

"Aye," Childermass agreed, and they set off into the street.

The courtyard draped in the golden light of evening had an unearthly, unsettling beauty. The shadow of the tree fell the wrong way: into the sun instead of away from it, and the lilies bobbed in a breeze that was not there. Segundus thought he heard a far-off voice say something to him in a language he didn't recognize. His skin prickled with magic. Childermass did not appear to notice these strange phenomena, though. His gaze was transfixed on the stone tree's branches from the moment he stepped into the courtyard.

"It is still there," Childermass said.

"What is?" asked Segundus. He squinted but couldn't see anything other than the bare branches.

"Do you not see it?" Childermass didn't take his eyes off the tree.

Segundus shook his head, but he doubted that Childermass saw, as he had taken several steps forward. He moved slowly, almost reverently, like a petitioner approaching a king.

"It belongs to him," Childermass whispered. Segundus heard his voice as though it were carried on the wind: distant and yet somehow close to his ear. Childermass stepped forward in a trance and reached out his arm to the stone tree. He raised his hand into the branches and—

—a thunderclap—

—a flash of darkness—

—a long whispering susurrus—

—a breeze smelling of heather and juniper—

Childermass's hand came away clutching a raven's feather. He uncurled his fingers, slowly, so Segundus could see. They stared down at it in his open palm. "I don't understand," Childermass said.

The scent of heather lingered.

"I want to try something," Childermass said that night, after several fruitless hours of poring over the markings on Vinculus's skin.

Brandon looked up at him. "Alright," he said slowly. "What sort of thing?"

Childermass didn't answer. He moved to stand before Vinculus, who sat in a comfortable-looking armchair in front of the low fire. He put his left hand in his pocket (Segundus knew he gripped the feather that he had found that morning) and squinted at Vinculus's bared arm.

At first, there was nothing. Childermass's face twisted in concentration, and his hand in his pocket balled into a fist. Brandon took a breath, no doubt to make some scathing remark, but Segundus held up a hand for silence. Surprisingly, Brandon obeyed.

A slow change came over the room. Segundus thought he saw flashes of vines of ivy that crept across the walls, but when he turned to look, the leaves disappeared. It was a disconcerting effect, and Segundus began to feel quite light-headed. This went on for almost a minute, but Brandon appeared unaffected, and Childermass and Vinculus were staring at one another so intently that Segundus doubted they'd notice if the room caught on fire.

Suddenly, a bolt of light flashed between Childermass and Vinculus. It knocked both men away from each other. Vinculus's armchair skidded several inches backward, and Childermass stumbled and caught himself on the wall. He was breathing heavily. "What the hell," he said, "was that?"

Instead of replying, Vinculus jumped out of his armchair and danced a rather clumsy jig. "Finally," he crowed. "My Reader knows how to read!"

Childermass looked at Segundus, an expression of puzzlement and— was that fear?— on his face. Segundus didn't think he had ever seen Childermass afraid; it made him look rather vulnerable. He wanted to gather Childermass up in his arms, he wanted to shout for joy, he wanted to dance around the room with Vinculus, despite his dizziness. He did none of those things. Instead, he raised a hand to his lips and said, with no small amount of wonder, "The air tastes like thunderstorms."

Then he fainted.