Silence. She bore the brunt of our stares without visible distress.

“You know who I am,” I said. “And that you would find me here. How?”

“You came to the Cathedral last night,” she replied, unperturbed. “But even had you not, I would have known where you bided.”

“Because...?”

“Because you draw your mantle of magic behind you.” She met my eyes, and though hers were human, and normal, still I had trouble holding her gaze. “There is not a human being in this city that does not know you are here, my lord. They might not know what it is they sense, but when they sleep, they dream of magic.”

“A pretty story,” Eyre said. “But unlikely.” He stepped back to put his shoulder at mine.

“Is it?” She glanced at him, cool, then returned her gaze to me. “We must leave, tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow!” I said, as Eyre exclaimed, “We?” Chester remained mute, his entire body eloquent of both his disquiet and his obedience. I was reminded that this woman constituted the fulfillment of the promise of his faith, and to insult her dignity would rightly outrage him.

She was also a woman accustomed to command, and she was speaking. “There is no time to waste. We are assembling your escort now.”

“Who is ‘we’?” Eyre asked, irritated. “I was planning to accompany Locke north—”

“And you are welcome to join us.”

“I and my colleagues,” Eyre explained. “Who do not need the Church’s help to bring a man safely to Vigil.”

“Your colleagues are also welcome. But we will not wait for them if they don’t join us tomorrow morning.”

“And you would have me believe you can mount an expeditionary force within half a day.” Eyre folded his arms.

“We have been preparing for this moment for centuries,” she replied, unruffled.

“Centuries,” I murmured. “You’ve been waiting centuries to escort a wayward elven prince to a distant library?”

She frowned, the faintest of lines forming between her brows. “No, my lord. We’ve been waiting centuries for the inevitable ending of the tale that began on the battlefield of Threnody-Calling-Forward. Do you not know your own history?”

“He was raised mortal,” Chester said behind her, low.

“Mor—” She glanced from Chester to me, brows rising. “You?”

This evidence that she was not omnipotent was comforting. “Alas, yes. Until very recently I thought I was human, and looked the part. An enchantment arranged by my mother to protect me from my race, which has been deranged by immortality, and now takes poorly to the notion of anyone who might put an end to their debauchery.”

“You are not the king.” Now she sounded disturbed.

“The king is currently languishing in the prison of a sorcerer of questionable sanity, I’m afraid. I am his prince, and I seek the grimoires of Vigil, which I hope will illuminate some way to unravel the enchantment that binds us.”

She showed no surprise at the mention of the enchantment; not only that, but my words relieved her, for she relaxed. I must have returned to the script she’d been expecting when she found an elf in her church. “The enchantment must be revoked for you to fight, and we are running out of time. Your personal history is of no moment, my lord. It is the deep past that is overtaking us now. You will meet us outside the north gate tomorrow two hours before dawn?”

“Why this urgency?” Eyre interrupted. “Is there some schedule we’re unaware of? Some alarm that has suddenly begun ringing, saying ‘demons are coming’?”

“There is indeed. And I have brought it with me.”

He paused, quirking a brow up, and said testily, “Let’s have it, then.”

She set the birdcage on the table amid the crumbs of our repast and lifted its cover, revealing a sparrow rustling on its floor, hopping hither and yon, attempting to peck up the seeds that did not litter the cage bottom because it was immaculate. In every way the creature gave the appearance of vital energy, but it had not mounted the perch because it could not, lacking wings.

It also lacked feathers, skin, and flesh.

“God in the firmament,” Chester whispered.

I swayed, visions swamping the world, drowning them. I felt the scalding shadow of demon wings shrouding me, heard their hissing cackles. The dead will walk, the dead will come to serve again—

“Locke!”

Chester had one of my shoulders in his hand. When I focused on him, he smiled tightly and said, “No dragons here to bite me.”

“No,” I breathed. I flexed my shoulder under his hand, not to dislodge it, but to feel the friction, assure myself that I wasn’t imagining his touch. When I looked at the bird, it was still there, its tiny talons scratching as it hopped the circumference of the cage’s floor. “I am not imagining this.”

“No,” the priestess said. “These creatures were gifts, exhumed from the battlefield’s edges and granted us as a way to warn us of the danger come again. The birds are the first to wake. The carrion eaters will come next. When the horses rise, it will be too late, for their riders will be upon them.” She looked at me. “Do you understand now?”

“I understood before,” I said. “But my answer is yes. I will meet you at the north gate two hours before dawn. And my companions will be there also.”

“We will be honored to have them. All people who serve the light are kin on the battlefield.”

She covered the cage again and inclined her head to me. As she turned to go, I said, “Honored Vessel...I trust you will make some explanation of the Church’s involvement in this matter?”

“I would be pleased to share our history with you, my lord. On the trip.”

And then she was gone, and I had the sense that not all our wishes otherwise would have stayed her. Not a woman who brooked disobedience, the Covenant Walking.

Beside me, Chester said, hushed, “She called you ‘my lord.’“ At my puzzled regard, he clarified. “The holiest of holies in all the Church. Defers to you, an elven prince. Why?”

“Why indeed,” Eyre said. He no longer sounded piqued, much to my relief. I greatly preferred the curiosity he was currently evincing.

“You were not disturbed at the sight of the bird?” I wondered.

“Fascinated, more like. Some mention of the risen dead is made in the histories, but one has trouble imagining something so unnatural. I wish she could have left it for us to examine further—”

“Fear not,” I said. “If things continue on their present course, we shall apparently be afflicted with undead horses.”

“Better than their riders,” Chester muttered.

Eyre shook his head. “Well, if I’m to throw together the gear to join you, I must be off. There’s no hope of dragging anyone else with us on such short notice, but you shall see me on the morrow if I have to wear the same set of clothes all the way to Vigil.”

“Tomorrow, sir,” I said, and he took his leave.

“I will have to make my own arrangements, and send word to the others,” Chester said. “Shall I tell Ivy as well?”

“Please,” I said. “This is rather more abrupt than I’d planned...”

“Better an abrupt departure than a demon-infested country, and God forfend one overrun by the legions of the dead. You see to your elves and furred folk, Locke. I’ll arrange our classmates. And remember to write your parents a note about your precipitous departure.” He glanced at me. “You will this time, won’t you?”

It occurred to me that Kelu had been right—and wrong—about Chester. He’d been bred to manage a shipping empire... literally conceived for the purpose of inheriting and growing a commercial enterprise that underlay Troth like the veins beneath my skin. From how to win the loyalty of servants and tradesmen to how to keep maps and schedules, he’d been in training since he could walk. My situation was merely another thing to manage. And at some point, superlative management became a great deal like service... and service was a virtue the Church had always encouraged. He was all of one piece, Chester St. Clary. Whole, in a way I hoped one day to be.

“I will write them, yes.” And added, “You’re a good friend, Chester. If I haven’t said it recently. I wouldn’t do without you.”

“Fortunately you don’t have to. Go on, then. Both of us to our tasks.”

His casual response didn’t fool me. I saw his flush, and the grateful smile, before he turned away.

I had not had the benefit of his upbringing. But I liked to think I was learning. Kemses would have approved.

The elves of my guard were pleased to be departing so rapidly... but when I mentioned the bird, Last’s countenance darkened.

“Is it as bad as all that?” I asked, tentative.

“I didn’t think there could be undead without demons to raise them,” Last replied. “But had someone successfully summoned a demon, you would have known, Lord Locke.”

“I would?”

“In your skin,” he said. “In your sense of the world. Demons bring a wrongness. A sickening.”

My nightmares hissed a laughing agreement. I ignored their whispers. “The priestess has promised us the tale. Perhaps tomorrow we will learn how a human religion came by a graveyard of animals from an elven battlefield.”

“No doubt. I await the story with interest.”

I had one more look at my elves, sitting in a half-circle around us. Their beauty still bruised me; I wondered if that was some lingering effect of my having been human for so long, or if I would always find elvenkind so impossibly supernal. “Sleep well,” I told them. “We will ride long before the sun rises.”

A low chorus of acquiescence. Last said for them, “We shall be ready. Good night, Lord Locke.”

The genets were the last to hear of our impending departure, which I reported to them while writing my parents. Kelu’s sole response was, “Finally. If I had to stare at these four walls any longer I’d start chewing on them.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Almond whispered as the two Pearls tucked themselves into the bed to await me. “It’s been very nice here.”

Kelu snorted, and strangely her skepticism settled me. A world where she could roll her eyes and make sarcastic commentary was still a normal world, one that did not hold demons and skeletal armies. I set the letter on the tray with regret, for I had wanted to see my mother again before I left, but at least I was not abandoning Evertrue in favor of a hopeless cause and the near certitude of an early death. No, I thought with wry amusement as I repaired to my bed... this time I was abandoning Evertrue in favor of an outlandish task and the possibility of an early death. Winifred protect all mothers, for surely they needed it.

Almond curled up against my chest and I settled my arm around her, feeling the magic raveled into her flesh like the carbonation in champagne, and the bruised pine scent of Nine’s necklace lingered in my nostrils. Long after the genets had fallen asleep, I remained wakeful, wondering too little about what we would find in the north, and too much about how Amhric was faring... and whether I would see Ivy in the morning, or if she would wisely decide that any affair involving glass-bled elves and horrors out of legend could find its resolution without her.