It took Denis and Mrs. Macready some minutes to adjust to being above ground again. The plush comfort of the interior of the Lamplighters' Lodge was quite a contrast to the dungeon-like ambience of the underground corridors. The two Brothers escorting the pair cast a cloaking spell over them as they passed through the hallways of the lodge. "I don't know why they would bother," muttered Denis. "Those Lamplighters look like they wouldn't notice anything short of a bomb going off in the building." The Lamplighters were mostly older gentlemen, reclining deeply in leather armchairs, drinking Scotch and soda, or reading newspapers. Denis and Mrs. Macready passed a billiards rooms and a dining hall. "This is such a perfect replica of a gentleman's club, down to the last brass humidor, that I have the distinct feeling of being inside a film set," remarked Denis.

At the end of a long hallway double doors were flung open. Bright white light dazzled their eyes. Denis entered through the doors and gasped. The interior of the lodge had not prepared him for this. He and Mrs. Macready stood on a platform on the wall of a vast white sphere, at a point on its equator. The walls, or Denis supposed, more correctly, the single wall, seemed to be translucent and lit from the exterior. There were amorphous shadows passing over the white surface but no clear patterns. Far below were tiers of seats, as in a lecture hall. Denis could not tell what supported them.

On the platform, and bolted to it, were two upholstered seats. Denis and Mrs. Macready sat down. Immediately the platform began to descend and move forward as well, in a graceful curve. Looking behind Denis could see that the platform was not, in fact, floating on air but was supported by a slender mechanical arm that appeared to be made of polished brass, like the articulated arm of a desk lamp. Their seats found their place below the other tiers.

Steadily the sphere was darkening. It was difficult to avoid thinking of it as a sky. Lights like stars appeared and brightened. Lines of light on the surface of the sphere soon connected them. Denis gathered that these were constellations but he could not recognize them. As if to help him, glowing images of mythological figures appeared, superimposed on the constellations. Even Denis, who cared not a whit for horoscopes, could identify the zodiac signs. The sphere darkened to the appearance of a night sky. The stars even twinkled. Denis became aware that the entire majestic firmament seemed to be rotating.

"I expect," Mrs. Macready whispered to him, "that everything that you see here is powered by magical energy and controlled by elaborate spells."

"This is all rather impressive."

"It's intended to make a point. This chamber represents the universe as a grand celestial clockwork, a rational, orderly cosmos explained by--."

"— by science."

"I was going to say, by magic."

A procession of figures in the robes of the Brotherhood entered the sphere through a door near the base. As they filed in, each picked up a handful of what appeared to be gray powder from a metal dish on a pedestal. Passing a tall metal brazier they each threw in the powder, producing a flash of dazzlingly colored light in the brazier's flame. One by one they took their seats. As the sections of seats filled they would lift up the walls of the sphere until they found their correct position.

Two men entered the sphere. When they stepped on to a platform it glided across the sphere so that it was positioned like a stage across from the tiers of seats. Mrs. Macready guessed that one of the men, the one in the robe marked with distinctive symbols, was the Grandmaster of the Brotherhood. The other had to be Dunleavy, his face obscured by his mask. The Grandmaster addressed the Brotherhood. "Brothers, you have been called here on short notice. We will dispense with our rituals today as we have special guests. One of them is a visitor from the Bureau of Magical Enforcement." There was whispered discussion among the Brothers at this. For a moment a light fell on Mrs. Macready who continued to sit impassively. "She has passed through our secret underground entrance and therefore shown herself an adept at magic. Brother Dunleavy will vouch for her courage and steadfastness. She would make a sterling addition to our Brotherhood. There will be time to discuss that later. For now she is granted the honor of being admitted into our meeting chamber, and nothing that will be discussed here will be hidden from her. Her companion, too, though a layman, will be welcome as our guest tonight.

"Brother Dunleavy, who has been among us for many years, wishes to address the assembly." He indicated the man beside him.

The leader of the Brotherhood threw back his hood and removed his mask, as did Dunleavy. The others followed his example. They removed their masks and dropped their cloaks, folding them neatly, and stashed them in their desks. Under the cloaks the Brothers were dressed conservatively, in suit and tie. Denis was disappointed to think that to an outsider it would look as if he had broken into a bankers' convention.

The chamber now reminded Mrs. Macready of the lecture halls at Gladhearts Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She thought of the old desks, scarred by knife cuts and ink stains going back generations. It was always cold in those rooms. Someone must have thought that children learned better when they were uncomfortable. She had tried to take notes with one hand holding her cloak tight, the other holding the pen and trying to keep the paper from slipping.

She remembered her first year as a lonely time. She had started a year late. She took some classes with the first years, one with the second years, and had to take private tutoring to catch up to children of her age group. Neither group fully accepted her. Eventually she fell into the company of other outsiders. Like her, they came from families that didn't encourage magic. There was dear Dorothea. How could she have made it through those years without Dorothea's cleverness and humor? She remembered how her classmate could do dead on impressions of their professors. Now Dorothea was in the Ministry's Taxation Department. Wasn't that odd? They must get together soon.

Heather Tompkins of the Cultural Office was the other girl she spent so much time with in school. They would sit in the corners of the library, seemingly for hours, giggling and disturbing the students trying to study. What had been so hilarious? All Mrs. Macready could remember now was that they had nasty remarks to make about the royal families of Europe. Heather was accounted the prettiest girl in their year. Her flouncy blond curls and fair complexion were objects of near universal admiration. She used to endlessly recite the sentimental romantic poetry popular among young women of that era. Funny that Heather had married that layman, Alan—wasn't that his name? Mrs. Macready had bumped into the two of them once, and Heather made it clear that they were not to discuss magical matters at all in his company. Mrs. Macready sighed. How painful and embarrassing for her. Mrs. Macready wondered if the romantic-minded witches she knew in school were satisfied with who they ended up with. That is, if they married at all. Did they get stuffy, dry men with no imagination for magic? Men who only cared about money or office politics?

She and Gerald didn't have much in common, at least not on the surface, but Gerald was so easy-going and they could always sort out their difficulties. Her own childish infatuation, thinking of him so often when they were apart, seemed such a long time ago. These days, she felt she took his steady presence for granted sometimes.

"Brothers," Dunleavy began, "I reveal myself as a member of this esteemed and ancient brotherhood tonight before my colleague, Mrs. Macready, and therefore to the rest of the world, because we have reached a critical hour. I have here in my hand the means whereby we will bring about the fall of the Ministry of Magic. I have here proof that there are endless worlds beyond our own, and magic in any number of them. Incompleteness is triumphant!"

"Traitor!" came a roar, as doors were flung open. "That will be enough from you!" The figure of Athanasius Kutcher was in the doorway where Mrs. Macready and Denis had entered, his white face accented by black robes. Before anyone could react, a flash of light exploded off his wand, flew across the room and struck Dunleavy full in the chest. Dunleavy was knocked off his feet.

"Drop your wands!" Athanasius shouted. He levitated himself down to Dunleavy's platform. Filling the doorway behind him were Bureau agents. All the doors to the sphere were opened and agents filled all of the openings.

Mrs. Macready levitated herself to land on the platform at Dunleavy's side. Her supervisor was unconscious, his mouth open. She could barely feel his pulse on his neck. "This man needs medical attention!" she cried, but both agents and Brothers were too shocked at the turn of events to make a move.

Athanasius pulled the white box from Dunleavy's hand. He flicked open the lid and dashed the contents to the floor of the platform. He held the tip of his wand just above the rings. Blue flames surrounded them. In a moment there were two popping sounds and puffs of green smoke spurted off the floor, quickly dispersing. There was nothing left of the rings but molten discs of gold on the floor. Mrs. Macready guessed that they were no more than metal now; their magical properties had been destroyed.

"Athanasius Kutcher!" she declared in a sharp, penetrating voice. "I arrest you for the murder of Eliphas Dunleavy!" She left the still body of Dunleavy on the floor and rose to her feet. All eyes were fixed on her. Her expression was uncompromising.

For an instant it appeared Athanasius would break into a laugh but the impulse stopped. For another instant he seemed bewildered. Then he gathered himself and declared, "I will not regret for an instant killing a traitor to the Ministry. I have devoted my life fighting to destroy the evil forces that threaten the Ministry. This is my greatest triumph."

"How can you talk about traitors to the Ministry? You, who organized your own renegade cell within the Bureau for years, serving no one's command except your own. Those men dressed as Brothers who attacked us at Prof. Kirke's house were your agents. I finally recalled one of their voices. The Brotherhood never had anything to do with the rings. It was an effort on your part to cast guilt on the Brotherhood and justify the raid."

Kutcher did not bother to deny any of this. "They laugh in the faces of the Ministry because we are impotent to stamp out their never-ending conspiracies. They are like worms forever burrowing beneath our feet. The Brotherhood works to topple all the beliefs we hold dear. The Ministry has passed down to us an image of the world that has inspired men's hearts through the centuries. Must we allow the Brotherhood to tear it down and drag it in the mud?"

Mrs. Macready didn't want to argue magic with Athanasius. She knew she had to appeal to the agents. "Shall I tell everyone where your crusade has led you? To form an alliance with forces from outside our world. The werewolves of the White Witch were on your men's side at Kirke's house. Dunleavy told me that you claimed not to have found the bodies of the wolves that I killed. That's quite impossible. The only explanation is that you met the wolves in the tunnels. They explained that their mission was to destroy the rings or take them back to the White Witch. You saw that you had common purpose with them. You returned the bodies of their fallen to them because you knew that anything brought from another world could be used to make dust for new rings. You have transgressed the commitment all of us in the Bureau have made to protect society from magical powers. The safety of our world has been compromised because of your obsession with destroying the Brotherhood."

"There are those in the Ministry, who I cannot name, who have known and approved of all our activities."

Mrs. Macready paused to consider. "These men and women you've brought with you, they may be loyal to your cause. They may find a way to stop me and cover up this entire incident. Or they may remember that they have sworn oaths, not to you, but to the Ministry. I don't want to argue politics or magical theory. I stand here accusing you of cold blooded murder of one of your colleagues and fellow human beings. As for your unnamed supporters in the Ministry, are you so convinced that they would stand behind you? That they would put their reputations, their power, their careers on the line to protect you?"

Athanasius stared at her. He seemed to squint as if to see her more clearly. The corners of his mouth twitched just perceptibly, then stretched into a grin. "I will not be brought to a courtroom, for solicitors to argue about, and juries to debate."

Mrs. Macready blasted Athanasius's wand from his hand, so that it clattered on the floor like a harmless stick. But Athanasisus did not hesitate for a second. He clapped his palm on his chest. A blue light covered his body and he crumpled to the ground lifeless.

The sphere was soon cleared. The Bureau agents might have been shocked and disturbed but they carried out their duties efficiently. They led the Brotherhood out and secured the building. Mrs. Macready assumed the Brothers would be questioned but would be released for lack of any evidence of wrongdoing. Denis and Mrs. Macready were left sitting alone.

Mrs. Macready said, "I wouldn't be surprised if his claim that the Ministry supported his activities was true. The Ministry makes the laws and then finds it convenient to break them. I suppose we'll never see evidence of that clandestine approval. I'm sure all those records will be destroyed. There'll be an inquiry, of course, but I don't expect much will come of it."

"I suppose that ends the matter," said Denis wearily.

"You'll have a good deal of work writing all this up for your newspaper."

"You know, I don't think that would be such a good idea. It would take a small book to explain everything, and no one would believe it even if I could get it published."

"So you'll keep silent. That sounds like your best idea yet."

"I must say," Denis began awkwardly, "that I've rather enjoyed this adventure of ours. I didn't think I would."

"You've done awfully well."

"Yes." Denis grinned in embarrassment. "I suppose I should make it through basic training. You know, I was hoping to join the Air Force. 'Knights of the Air' and all that sort of thing. But I've changed my mind. If there's going to be a war, and I don't doubt it, I want to see the real war. I want to be with the infantry. Maybe I'll see something worth writing about."

Mrs. Macready sighed. She couldn't help thinking of Ian. So Denis wanted to be on the front lines, to be ground up by tanks and artillery. It was too grim to talk about. "You're not quite as you seem from first impressions. I thought of you as spoiled and privileged. I imagined that you used to be the sort of boy who cried at birthday parties when he didn't receive a pony."

"Yes, well." Denis looked uncomfortable. Others had told him much the same thing over the years, often using unkinder words. "I did cry when I wasn't invited to a birthday party once."

"And what about Lydia?"

"Lydia," Denis murmured, as if hearing a name from the distant past. But then he didn't know what to say about her.

"Write to me when you have a chance."

"I will. I promise to send you a letter from France." As Denis walked away he turned and said, "There's one more question I'd like to ask. You've never told me your first name. On your desk it only says, 'Mrs. Macready'."

"I don't really like my given name. My father had the idea of naming all his children after pagan gods and goddesses." She grinned awkwardly. "It's Venus."

Denis found this funny. Mrs. Macready thought of mentioning that her husband didn't think her first name was inappropriate. When they were first engaged, he was shocked by how passionate she was. She didn't have much patience for the rituals of courtship of that era. He was flattered by it, of course.

Through the colonnaded entrance to the London Lodge of the Loyal Order of Lamplighters the Bureau agents were dispersing. Mrs. Macready noticed a young agent standing on the sidewalk looking at her. He smiled slyly at her and walked around the corner. Mrs. Macready was curious enough to follow. As the man turned to enter the lane he tossed his black wool coat into a trash bin. Then Mrs. Macready understood. She was content to look on from a distance as the man undressed from his human clothes and emerged covered only in his natural gray fur. The wolf turned its head for one last backward glance before loping off.

Mrs. Macready understood that he would report back on the destruction of the rings. The wolves would return to Narnia in triumphant success. That was the way of wolves, she thought: they could always be counted on to be loyal to the leader of the pack.