to pull the carriage. Her legs were rickety, her joints swollen. Her back looked ready to cave in. The pelt on her belly was pocked with holes, making her look a little moth-eaten. The stiff hair on her mane and tail was dry, thinning, and streaked with gray. She seemed to have only enough strength to hold up her ears. These were long, and stood straight like a rabbit’s. But her eyes were soft and bright, and she nickered with anticipation while Doc hitched her to the carriage.

Pet scanned the horse with a skeptical eye.

“She’s old, but she’ll get you there,” said Doc, following her look. He stroked a half-moon blaze on the horse’s forehead and put a straw hat on her head. Then he gave her some hay, which she chewed delicately.

Bit was grateful they were taking a carriage. The high, white clouds had turned gray, the low gray ones dark. They were so low it seemed she could almost touch them. A few raindrops splatted on the ground.

They helped the old woman into the front seat. Bit, Pet and Yalp squeezed into the back. Doc climbed in next to the woman. He gave the horse a tap, and the carriage rolled and jangled up the road.

Bit looked out the window behind her. Miss Drath followed in a buckboard, Ox trotting alongside with the hounds. When she saw Bit, Miss Drath’s eyes narrowed to two black slashes. She flicked her horse’s flanks with a whip and smiled.

Bit swallowed. She understood the look, which said, “When this is all over, I’ll make you pay.”

After Darter wrote “Aerdem” in the ashes, the doctor had been swayed. Nothing Miss Drath said would deter him. The old woman said she had a way to the other world. They needed to go to Nell’s cottage. There, the old woman would show them. The doctor swore he’d see for himself. He’d written a quick note to his wife, grabbed a hat and slicker, and got out the horse and carriage.

“Tell me about the creatures again,” he’d asked, looking sadly at his unplanted flowers.

Bit told him. He’d nodded to himself and filled a pouch with the powder he had sprinkled around the flowers. Then he put the pouch in his medicine bag.

“What was that long object I saw above your fireplace?” the old woman had asked.

“A rifle,” he’d replied.

“Is that a weapon?”

“Yes. A powerful one.”

“Better bring it.”

Doc had frowned.

Now he drove the carriage with the gun across his knees.

Nestled at the knee of the mountain, Nell’s cottage looked as lonely as before. The dark and dirty windows. The leaves stirring on the porch. The weeds overrunning the garden. And near the well, the ax handle reaching like an arm from the woodpile. A squirrel perched on the crossbeam of the well looked at them quizzically. He scampered down one of the supporting beams and disappeared into tall grass beyond the yard.

Doc parked the carriage. He and Bit helped the old woman down. Pet, Yalp, and Darter joined them. Miss Drath’s buckboard rattled to a stop nearby and Ox, red-faced and panting, ran up with the bloodhounds.

The sun had set. Twilight softened the shadows. The clouds were shot with indigo, the edges crimson. They collected in a towering mass against the mountain above, where they seemed to roll and bubble.

“Well,” Miss Drath said to the old woman, “show us.”

The old woman drew them to the well, where they formed a semicircle. “The well is the way. It has a deep connection to Jenren.”

Everyone peered down the well. The ring of inner stones disappeared in the fading light; the bottom was lost in darkness. A breath of cold air exhaled from below and caressed Bit’s cheek.

She shivered.

Miss Drath smiled to herself. “What are you going to do?” she asked the old woman. “Jump in?”

“Yes and no.”

“Explain yourself, madam.”

“I’m going to open a passage.” Reflecting the blues and reds of the clouds, the old woman’s eyes shone.

Pet slid up to Bit and whispered. “She’s mad.”

No one else seemed to hear.

“This well is almost dry,” Miss Drath said to the doctor. “I tested it a few days ago. Thirty, forty feet down, there’s nothing but mud.”

In reply, the doctor drew up the metal bucket. It was empty. He removed the rope from the pulley and let the bucket fall. Bit counted slowly to five before she heard a muffled bang below. Doc pulled the bucket back up. It was dented and bent on one side. He retied the rope and attached it to the pulley. The bucket waved back and forth before settling to a stop. He shot a worried glance at Bit.

The old woman looked at the clouds, which had deepened to midnight blue, magenta, and vast columns of charcoal. “It is time.” From beneath her cloak, she removed a parchment packet and opened it.

Yalp stepped forward to examine it. “If you please, may I—”

Muttering to herself, the old woman didn’t seem to hear. Fluttering her hand, she emptied a fine powder down the well.

They waited, Bit knew not for what. There was a low rumble of thunder in the distance. Then only silence.

Bit’s throat went dry. She didn’t want to look down the well again. It drew her back to the lonely times, the blank times, of falling, falling into oblivion . . .

She dug her nails into the rock of the well until she could feel her fingers, then steadied herself, forced herself to look until the fear passed.

“You see,” said Miss Drath to the doctor. “Nothing. I hope you’re satisfied.”

“There,” said Bit. “Something’s happening.”

Strands of mist appeared along the inner well wall. They seemed to drift out of the rock, as if the stone had exhaled. The mist collected in fingers, caressing, licking the wall. It snaked into the darkness, and more mist rose to meet it. The entire shaft was soon covered in a thick blanket that glowed, as if illuminated from behind. The dark shadows that hid the bottom disappeared. Now there was only one, long, endless tunnel.

The old woman climbed on the edge of the well. “The opening won’t last long. We must go.”

Dumfounded, Miss Drath looked down the well. She recovered quickly. “It’s a trick. The magician did the same thing two hours ago. A few chemicals, and poof, he disappeared.”

“It’s not a trick,” said Yalp. The size of a small child, it was hard for him to say things and have anyone take him seriously. But he looked stern now. “Chemical smoke would have dissipated by now. And how do you explain that?”

As far down as Bit could see, the tunnel of mist slowly rotated counterclockwise.

“I don’t know, but it’s a trick, I’m certain,” said Miss Drath.

Doc shook his head. “I don’t know . . .” Doubt and confusion troubled his face. “What about the bird’s writing?”

“I told you. He flew around the park doing exactly what he was told. He’s been trained.”

Darter objected, chattering like a monkey until Miss Drath covered her ears.

“Was he trained to do that too?” Pet asked.

Miss Drath cast a wary eye at Darter. “Probably.”

Darter looked ready to argue, but Bit hushed him.

“Come, little one.” Miss Drath extended her hand to Pet. “I won’t be mad at you. I won’t punish you. I understand what you are doing. And you’re right. There is a better way. I see that now.”

Pet gazed back, searching Miss Drath’s face.

“Dear Countess. Precious Countess. Together we can do wonderful things. There’ll be plenty for the children, and more than enough for me.” She sounded so sincere Bit could almost believe her.

Again, Pet gazed back, but this time there were tears in her eyes.

The old woman drew everyone’s attention back to the well, where she paced on the edge, wringing her hands. “Time is running out. We must go, now, or many good people will die.”

The doctor looked down the well again, uncertainty still written on his face.

Miss Drath latched on to that. “You’re a man of science. You said so yourself. You can’t seriously think there’s anything else at the bottom of that well but a dark, cold grave. If you leap, I won’t bother to fish you out.”

“Nay,” the old woman cried, “you do not know what you are dealing with. There are powerful forces at work. I am only a humble servant. But if you follow me, I will show you.” A gust of wind blew her veil free and her hair, thin and white as finely spun thread, spread out in disarray. Eyes shining, balanced precariously on the edge of the well, she did look mad.

The doctor took off his hat and turned it round and round in his hands. Sensing his uncertainty, the old woman spoke to Bit. “My part in what comes is near. I must go. Follow if you can. Don’t be frightened by what you see.”

She leaped into the well. Bit bent over the edge to look and counted slowly. She could no longer see the old woman. When she reached five there was a roll of thunder from the storm clouds, masking any sound if the old woman smacked on the rocks below.

Everyone crept to the edge of the well and peered down.

“I heard her hit bottom,” said Pet.

“I didn’t,” said the doctor.

Neither had Yalp. Bit couldn’t be sure.

“That wraps that up,” Miss Drath said, rubbing her hands. “Come along, children.” She moved toward Pet and Bit with outstretched arms.

Doc Jenkins stepped in between. “You’re not taking them.”

“I am.”

“You’ve been abusing them.”

Miss Drath’s laugh sounded like the cry of a vulture. “I’ll take them by force.” The bloodhounds snarled, low and mean, at the change in her voice.

Doc Jenkins drew himself up to his full height. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Ox, set the dogs on him.”

The dogs pulled hard at the leashes, slavering, foaming at the mouth. Ox grinned savagely and let them go. They raced to the doctor, their paws kicking up a wake of mud.

“Heel,” Drath cried.

The hounds stopped within a few feet of Doc Jenkins, growling with bared teeth. He backed slowly away. Miss Drath’s hand shot out and snatched Pet by the collar. Pet struggled to free herself, but Miss Drath locked her in cross-armed. Doc continued to back away toward his carriage.

Panic gripped Bit’s throat, cutting off air. Why was the doctor leaving? Who would save them if he left?

A rumble of thunder close by made her look at the clouds. A gray curtain of rain rushed toward them.

“Grab Bit,” Miss Drath said to Ox.

Ox leered at Bit and lumbered toward her with outstretched arms. Bit back-stepped around the well.

“Stop!” Doc cried. He stood by the carriage, rifle on his shoulder and aimed at Ox.

“He won’t shoot,” Miss Drath said. “Go ahead.”

Ox hesitated, then moved toward Bit.

Doc fired his rifle in the air. Ox froze.

“Release the girl,” Doc said.

Miss Drath laughed, and began dragging Pet to the buckboard. Doc fired again, and she stopped.

The gunshots were like explosions in Bit’s brain, explosions she’d heard before . . . Terrible flashes of red, bursts of fire . . . smoke burning the eyes, the lungs . . . crying babies, people screaming, running . . . terrified eyes, knowing they will die . . .

Soldiers thundered through the village on horseback. A rain of flaming torches fell on the houses, passed through the windows, or ignited the thatch like tinder. Arrows rose in a dreadful arc and landed like strange, sprouting flowers . . . Two faces, a man and a woman, racing toward Bit, yelling, “Run, run!” She knew them. Her parents! Two sweet faces seized with fear for her. They ran beside her. Then they were gone . . .

She needed to hide. She saw the well and leaped. Then she was hiding, looking up through a circle of light. The explosions, the screams, the red smoke swirled above. She was quiet. She knew she needed to be quiet. So quiet. Only the lap of cold, inky water . . .

While this scene gripped her, Bit was vaguely aware she still stood by another well. A curtain of rain hung like a filmy veil, and everyone, Pet, Doc, Miss Drath, faded to gray ghosts. It was like being in two places at once, like seeing with two sets of eyes. The yard at Nell’s cottage, cast in gray, the burning village in sepia and umber.

Then a third image floated before her. It started small but it grew. It was a face. She couldn’t see the features, but she knew who it was. Dash! She needed to be with him. She needed to be free of the burning village so she could see Dash’s face, so she could hold him. She dug her nails into the stones of the well. She looked down at her fingers. They were gray, ghostly. But they bled. And where they bled she could feel, and the feeling spread up her fingers, up her arms. The burning village faded, the face faded. Her hands and arms and legs were solid again, her flesh was her flesh and the color restored.

No one noticed Bit. An argument raged. Everyone yelled at once. Ox urged the hounds to attack. They coiled tight to the ground, readying to spring, snarling, roaring more than barking. Darter faced them. Streaking about their heads, pecking viciously, he held them at bay. Pet twisted against Miss Drath’s arms, screaming that there was an Aerdem, that it was real. Yalp voiced his agreement like a shrieking pipe, then broke off into a series of incantations in the hope that he could spirit them back home. Doc still stood with the rifle butt on his shoulder, aiming at Miss Drath, telling her she had no business with the girls and to let them go. Miss Drath swore they were all crazy. Maybe she’d lock the doctor up beside the mad magician. Maybe she’d just let them all fall to their death down the well and just be done with them.

“Please,” Bit said, trying to get their attention.

No one listened.

“Wait, please,” she repeated.

No one heard. The argument intensified. Miss Drath threatened to throw the doctor in jail for attempted murder.

“Listen to me, please,” Bit said.

It was like she was still invisible. But she never felt more alive, more determined.

She dashed to the woodpile and pulled loose the ax. Leaping on the well, she banged on the metal bucket with the ax head until it rang like a giant bell, and her ears were numb, and everyone gaped at her.

At that moment, Miss Drath relaxed her grip. Pet wrenched free and moved a safe distance away.

Miss Drath took a step toward Bit. “Come down, dear, you’ll fall.”

“Stay back,” Bit cried. She felt a little crazed, but was past caring. She pointed down the well, which was still lined with slowly rotating mist. “I’m going. Don’t try and stop me. I have to believe there is something there.”

“This is madness, girl,” said Miss Drath, reaching out, inching forward.

Doc tried to sound reassuring, reasonable. “Come down, we’ll talk about it.”

Bit struck the bucket again until everyone drew back. “Do you believe in nothing? Have your hearts grown as cloudy and gray as your skies? Have you no dreams, nothing you long for? I long for a place—though it seems little more than a dream now. A place far, far away, where the plenderil push their little faces through the last snow and paint the hills crimson. Where towers and spires of rose greet the morning sun and bathe the world in a pastel glow. Where flower petals carpet the garden paths, and the people are kind and gentle. I long for a place where there is love and magic—magic that rides on the wings of a bird or floats through the air like a whiff of jasmine. That is where my heart is. I have to believe it is there. I’d rather die at the bottom of this well than not believe.”

She turned to Pet. “I understand if you’d rather stay here.”

Pet looked at Miss Drath. “I could almost pretend that you really love me. It would be more than I’d ever get from my father. But I go where she goes.”

Pet climbed on the ledge of the well beside Bit.

“Follow me,” Bit said to Doctor Jenkins. “But if you don’t, at least I’ll see my love before he dies.”

She threw the ax aside.

Taking Pet’s hand, they leaped . . .