Halls of Magdalen

HALLS OF MAGDALEN

The intensity of that memory sent me into a long sleep. I had relived every detail of that night, down to the taste of my tears, and the pain. I woke to shadow and firelight. ‘It’s a Sin to Tell a Lie’ strained from the gramophone.

Warden had covered me again. I stared into the fire, not wanting to face the music.

He had just seen the hardest night of my time as the Pale Dreamer. The night I had realised how terrible Jaxon could be, and the Seven Seals had strained at the seams. The night I feared I had lost Nick.

It could have been so many other memories. I had lived through the first two years of the Molly Riots, the separation from my grandparents, years of cruelty at school – yet it was that night, when I had needed something indefinable, that had been knotting up my poppies.

Jaxon did not believe in hearts. He believed in dreamscapes and spirits. Those were what mattered – but my heart had laid me low that day. For the first time in my life, I had been forced to acknowledge its fragility.

A tongue of fire still tantalised the embers in the hearth. It cast light on the figure by the window.

‘Welcome back,’ Warden said.

I sat up, braced for an echo of the pain. There was nothing.

‘I hope that was entertaining for you,’ I said.

‘I did not expect that memory to be so intimate,’ Warden said, very softly. ‘You were under no obligation to share it with me, Paige.’

‘I’m not ashamed of it.’

‘You have no reason to be ashamed.’

‘Thanks.’ I sat up. ‘Go on, then, sleep dealer. Interpret my past, like other voyants do the future. What does that memory tell you about me?’

Warden came to sit on his wing chair.

‘I believe I understand why it affects you so deeply.’ His gaze came to rest on mine. ‘You are quite sure you wish me to speculate.’

‘Yes.’

‘You have a profound fear there is nothing to you beyond your gift. That is the part of you see as truly valuable – your livelihood, your unique asset. You rely on Jaxon Hall, who treats you as his commodity. To him, you are nothing more than quick flesh grafted to a ghost; a priceless gift in human wrapping. But Nick Nygård showed you more than that.’

‘I didn’t love Nick,’ I said. ‘I thought I did.’

‘But it hurt you when he fell in love with Zeke,’ Warden said. ‘You saw that you were not the axis of his world, the way he was yours.’

‘Nick saved me twice. He was my home, but I wasn’t his.’

‘And you felt lost.’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I didn’t have anyone else. I still don’t. My family was scattered or killed in Ireland, and my father is chained to Scion. Reuben was just a tourniquet. I never saw him again. It was stupid.’

‘No. The White Binder was losing his interest in you – or feigning a loss of interest, at least, in order to manipulate you. Without him, you had no safe place.’ He spoke without judgement. ‘You feared you might never find a home, or mean the world to anyone. That night, you found the first person who knew nothing of the Pale Dreamer, to prove to yourself they could want you. You found Reuben.’

‘Something like that.’ I glanced at him. ‘Don’t even think about pitying me.’

‘Never, but I can empathise. I know how it feels to be wanted for one specific aspect of yourself.’

For a moment, I looked away. I hated that I had let him work me out.

But it was also a relief, to have got it off my chest. I could breathe a little easier. That night had been only six months ago. Even if I had thought I was over it, it had formed a stumbling block in my dreamscape.

‘You were in pain.’

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I never found out why.’

‘He was amaurotic,’ Warden said. ‘He could not see all of you that night, and you knew it. You could not be yourself with him. You might not wish to be seen only as a dreamwalker, but it is integral to you. You are the sum of all your facets.’

I digested this. ‘You’re saying I couldn’t relax around him.’

‘In short. In those circumstances, your dreamscapes were like oil and water; yours was richer in all ways. Your spirit did not call to his, nor his to yours.’

He made a fair point. If Reuben had realised what I was, he would have sent me to the gallows without a second thought.

‘If voyant minds are like oil’ – I weighed my words – ‘what are yours like, Warden?’

The flames crackled.

‘Fire,’ Warden said.

Against my will, I thought of what oil and fire did together. I looked away.

‘Paige, there was another memory. I saw it unintentionally before you fell asleep,’ he said. ‘It surged up from the depths of your dreamscape.’

‘What memory?’

‘Blood. A great deal of it.’

‘That was probably the Dublin Incursion.’

‘I have seen that memory. This blood was all around you, choking you.’

‘I really have no idea.’

Warden regarded me for a while.

‘Now you’ve seen everything – my life, my memories,’ I said. ‘Do you trust me, Warden?’

‘I do.’

‘Then what are we going to do next?’

He lapsed back into silence, his gloved hands clasped against his chin.

‘I saw a map in the House,’ I said. ‘I know there’s a train station under Port Meadow.’

‘Yes.’

‘I want to know where, exactly. I want to be gone before the Bicentenary.’

‘And you assume I will let you go.’

‘Yes, or you can safely assume that your snuffbox will find its way to Nashira,’ I said coolly. ‘I trust you only for as long as you help me. If I get any sense that you’ve crossed me, I’ll run – not walk – to the Residence of the Suzerain. At that point, you’ll have made it personal.’

His fingers drummed on the chair. He didn’t try to bargain; he just looked at me.

‘You cannot take the train,’ he said.

‘Watch me.’

‘You misunderstand me. The train is programmed to come and go on particular dates, at particular times. Those times cannot be changed from this side,’ he said. ‘That lies with the Westminster Archon.’

‘When is it next coming?’

‘The Bicentenary.’

‘Of course.’ I shook my head. ‘Everything comes down to that night, doesn’t it?’

‘Yes.’ Warden held my gaze. ‘For three years, you have lived in the shadow of the White Binder. Here, that shadow cannot touch you. When you arrived in this city, I did not meet the Pale Dreamer. I met Paige Mahoney – and I think that she is a force to be reckoned with.’

He spoke with such obvious sincerity that a lump came to my throat.

‘You have craved belonging with others, but you have a choice to be the pillar of your own world. To embrace your independence,’ Warden said. ‘Do this, and you may inspire others to do the same. I need this from you, Paige.’

‘Why?’

‘I think you know by now.’

His tone was even, but he spoke from the depths of his throat, chilling me.

‘You must be very tired.’ He made as if to rise. ‘I will give you privacy.’

‘Stay,’ I said.

He stopped, waiting. I pushed off the heavy mantle and went to the writing table, opening the middle drawer, where I had stowed his key.

‘I’m still fuming with you. But you chose me over Kraz.’ I offered it to him. ‘I’d say you’ve earned your own bed.’

Warden took it, a new and soft light in his eyes. I pressed his wrist once before I let go.

On Midsummer Day, Warden entrusted me with the key to Water Walk. By day, it was a scenic retreat – a footpath that circled a water meadow by the River Cherwell. I spent the morning out there, savouring the sun on the mist, the crispness of the air.

That day, I understood how little I could miss Jaxon. In London, I rarely had a moment to myself. Since I had refused to practise dreamwalking, Jaxon had worked me harder and harder. It had been almost a year since I had last spent a morning as slowly as this.

I sat down on the riverbank. As I soaked up the weak sunlight, I glimpsed a rabbit, the blue flash of a kingfisher, a squirrel darting up an oak. So much life still endured in this place.

After a while, another movement caught my eye. Nuala was gazing at me from the other side of the Cherwell. I smiled a little.

Warden was still talking around the question. I thought I knew what it was now, though I still wasn’t sure how to answer. I was a mollisher, not a mime-queen. I hadn’t thought I would lead for decades. I had been content to serve Jaxon, a moon that could only reflect others’ light.

But I did have the skills to help Warden win. I knew how an underworld was organised; I knew how to move unseen by the anchor.

At this point, I had nothing left to lose.

Two days later, a rattled Michael returned from a feast. I was treating the cut on my arm while Warden pored over paperwork. They had a conversation before Michael left, shutting the door behind him.

‘That looked intense,’ I said. ‘What did he say?’

‘Nashira has called her entire family to the Residence of the Suzerain.’ Warden looked out of the window. ‘Kraz must have been found.’

‘Better steel ourselves for questioning, then.’

‘So far, no suspicion has fallen on either of us.’

Rephs clearly had no concept of forensics. I went back to studying a plan of the Guildhall, where the Bicentenary would take place.

Later that day, at sunset, I was making a list of voyants’ names when someone used the iron knocker. The sky outside was rosy, bloodshot.

I recognised the dreamscape outside.

Warden stood by the fire. His gaze slashed towards the door, then to me.

‘It’s her,’ I said under my breath.

‘Hide, quickly.’

With no way to get to the attic, I squeezed into the bottom of the linen closet. Warden closed it before he let Nashira in.

The Suzerain stepped into the parlour. I watched through the crack between the doors. Warden knelt before her, as he always did.

‘Arcturus.’ Her eyes were a bright yellow, with no trace of green. ‘Where is our dreamwalker?’

‘She sleeps. It is not yet night.’

‘I smell her.’ Pause. ‘Do you share your own parlour with her, Arcturus?’

I tensed. She must have a sniffer in her entourage, giving her the ability to smell auras and spirits.

‘No,’ Warden said. ‘She came to beg for a meal.’

‘I see.’

She looked out of the window. Three of her fallen angels drifted near her.

‘Kraz is gone. A broken vial of the pollen was found with him,’ she said. ‘Do you happen to know anything about this?’

‘No. I am grieved to hear it,’ Warden said. ‘When did it happen?’

‘Three days ago. There was a disturbance in the House.’ Pause. ‘He was discovered in Tom Tower. Is that not a curious thing, consort?’

‘I trust it absolves me. That is the one place in this city I will not go.’

‘You are wise. The chains still hang.’

The silence was painful.

‘Kraz was beyond saving. No word must be allowed to escape into the Rookery,’ Nashira said. ‘I have trusted you to watch over 40, yet she continues to find ways to indulge her criminality. Did she have anything to do with this, Arcturus?’

‘Not to my knowledge.’

‘She is brazen enough. You have been too lenient a keeper.’ Pause. ‘If you think to repeat your treachery, know that I will not spare a single life. Not even yours. Is that understood, Arcturus?’

‘I am well aware of my position, Nashira.’

Out of nowhere, she struck him across the face. I felt the hot sting of it across the golden cord, as clearly as if she had done it to me.

‘That was for your lack of respect,’ she told him. ‘Do not forget yourself.’

‘Forgive me.’ He looked up at her. ‘I have had twenty years to reflect on my folly. 40 has proven to me that you are right about humans – but she has not left the Founders Tower. I would not wish you to misidentify the perpetrator, whose actions must be punished.’

There was another brief silence.

‘Very well,’ Nashira said.

Her voice was softer. She took hold of his chin, looking him in the eyes.

‘Her possession of 12 in the citadel was a pleasant and reassuring surprise,’ she said. ‘You have nurtured her gift well, Arcturus.’

‘Only for you.’

‘We will see at the Bicentenary. Should the event go smoothly, all suspicion of you will be lifted. You will be welcomed back into the fold, and all those who question your integrity will be castigated for it.’

‘It will be done. Will you claim her in the shadows, or before the emissaries?’

I frowned.

‘The latter,’ Nashira said. ‘Let them all see her bridled at last.’ She let go of him and placed a small vial on the mantelpiece. ‘This will be your last dose of amaranth until the Bicentenary. I believe you need time to reflect on your scars. To remember why you should look to the glory of the future, not the failures of the past.’

‘I will endure whatever you ask of me.’

‘You will not have to endure it for long. Soon I will have the power we need to fortify our rule, and the season of conquest will truly begin.’ She turned towards the door. ‘See to it that no harm comes to her, Arcturus.’

The door closed.

Warden stood. For a moment, I had no idea what he would do. Before I could ask him if he was all right, he swung open the parlour door and left. I went to sit beside the fire and listened to the silence.

Sunset turned slowly to night. By one in the morning, rain was thundering from black clouds – a summer tempest, thickening the air. I cracked open a window before I lay in the dark, my eyes wide open.

Warden had ensconced himself in the Old Chapel, where no human was permitted to go. It was his sanctuary. But he and I had both thrown any concept of privacy to the wind.

I got off the daybed and tied the sash of my nightshirt. Barefoot, I left the tower.

A chill wind howled through the cloisters. Even in the summer, the cold never left. I probably should have put on a coat, but I wanted to feel the night on my skin.

As I walked, I heard a muffled sound, soaring above the rain. I followed it to a vast pair of doors, which stood ajar. The entrance of the Old Chapel.

Gail was in the Porters’ Lodge. Michael and Fazal were in their rooms. Nobody was around to see me. I slipped into the forbidden wing.

Candlelight staved off the darkness. The sound had been organ music. It filled and awakened my entire body, resonating in my bones.

A small door stood open. I went through it, up the steps beyond, to the organ loft. Warden sat at the bench with his back to me.

His music roared through the ranks of pipes, up to the vaulted ceiling – a sound that pervaded each alcove and corner, straining against the ancient roof, as if it were fighting to escape into the sky. A sound that surged with terrible melancholy.

Nobody could play this without some degree of feeling. I listened for a long time.

When I finally approached him, the music stopped. I sat on the bench at his side. We faced each other in the gloom, with only the light from his eyes and a candle.

‘Paige.’

‘Hi.’ I touched my fingertips to the keys. ‘I didn’t know you could play.’

‘We have mastered the art of mimicry over the years.’

‘That wasn’t mimicry. That was you.’

There was a long silence.

‘I’m sorry she hit you,’ I said. ‘You shouldn’t have to put up with that, Warden.’

He glanced at me.

‘I should not have taken your memories,’ he said, ‘but they allowed me to escape from Oxford. I walked with you through a meadow of poppies. I flew with you on the rooftops of London.’

I listened.

‘Magdalen is my home, but also my purgatory. I am both its master and its captive,’ he said. ‘Living within these walls for so long has afflicted me with a terrible wanderlust – yet here I am, two hundred years after I arrived. Still a prisoner, though I masquerade as a king.’

All the while, both of us had been captives. I wished I had known sooner.

‘Tell me about Novembertide,’ I said.

‘That night, I planned to launch a rebellion,’ he said. ‘I hoped that, with new prisoners among them, the humans would have the hope and pride to fight back. No sooner had I sown word of my plan than one human chose to betray us all. In exchange for his own freedom, he sacrificed the others. The cruelty of it shook me.’

His brow was dark. I wondered how many years of work had come crashing down around him.

‘We’re mortal.’ I gave him a bleak smile. ‘Our instinct is to survive at any cost.’

‘So I learned. For many years, I did not understand why a man would bite the hand that fed him,’ Warden said. ‘In the end, I did see. It was because he knew his right to feed himself, as well he should.’

‘You’re getting it,’ I said. ‘What made you want to try again now?’

‘You.’

I blinked.

‘Nashira did not fear a second uprising. I dared not risk one,’ he said. ‘But when you arrived, I saw potential. All of us did. Those who remain.’

‘I don’t understand why she let you stay here. Why were you allowed to train me?’

‘I convinced her that I was the only one who could. Because of what she did to me,’ Warden said. ‘I told her there were many times when I longed to abandon my body; that I had taught myself to cast my thoughts from it. That was true. She believed I could use the experience to help you dreamwalk.’

I thought on those words, putting the shreds of knowledge together.

‘The scars,’ I said quietly. ‘They still hurt?’

‘Yes.’

‘You take amaranth for them.’

‘She used a poltergeist.’

A fresh chill bloomed in my palm. My scar no longer hurt, but that had been a glancing blow. I couldn’t begin to imagine the pain he must have endured in that tower.

I thought about reaching for his hand, inches from mine on the keys.

In the end, I decided not to take the risk.

‘I had to be cautious,’ Warden said. ‘I have tested you, Paige. Your compassion and patience. I was not reticent with you because I disliked you, but because I feared you. Yet for the first time in twenty years, we all took an interest. Even before you arrived.’

‘You saw the footage?’

‘Yes. You eluded capture far longer than the others. The more I learned, the more I hoped. A survivor of the Imbolc Massacre, trained to fight, with a rare gift, a strong will, and a hatred of Scion. There are no coincidences. Every thread in the æther has its purpose.’

‘Tell me what you want from me,’ I said. ‘No more riddles, Warden.’

‘The prisoners would never trust a Rephaite to organise or lead them. They would think it was a trick. It must be a human,’ Warden said. ‘I need you to help me tip the scales of justice – to bring this place down, as I could not without you. Will you, Paige?’

Even now, I had a seed of doubt. Too many people had abused my trust.

But the only way his actions had ever made sense was if he was telling me the truth.

‘I think I could,’ I said. ‘I think … I want to.’

‘Even though you must stay here for another two months,’ Warden said. ‘Even though you and I must cohabit and train in that time.’

‘Even then.’ I tilted an eyebrow. ‘It’s not like there’s any other way out, is there?’

‘You could still risk crossing Gallows Wood.’

‘No, thank you. I want to survive,’ I said. ‘We take over the train.’

‘Yes. On the evening of the Bicentenary, it will bring a number of Scion emissaries to this city, to witness the glory of the Bone Seasons – among them Benoît Ménard, the Grand Inquisitor of France. The train will also take them back to London.’

‘Do you know what time?’

‘Not yet, but Michael is a keen eavesdropper. He will discover the schedule. What matters is that all of you can leave,’ Warden said. ‘Your escape will show that the reign of the Sargas will not be eternal.’

He spoke as if this was really possible. I thought of Liss, at the end of her tether, hope dying in her eyes. I thought of Julian, his conviction.

Let’s show them that even after two hundred years, they still have something to fear.

‘Maybe we can do better than just a jailbreak,’ I said, very softly. ‘I’m a criminal. Let’s apply a little more chaos.’

‘I rather hoped you would say that.’

‘Really?’

‘Nashira knows you are the Pale Dreamer. You have the potential to wield the might and misrule of the syndicate against her. You saw her determination to avert the union between Dublin and London.’

‘You’re romanticising it a little. It’s full of petty criminals and backstabbers.’

‘That is dependent on its leaders. It has the potential to become something much greater,’ Warden said. ‘The syndicate would not exist without Scion. It was an unexpected complication, a hitch in her plan to conquer this world. More than your reputation, she also fears your gift, even as she prepares to claim it. You have already used it against Suhail and Aludra.’

‘Which means I could also use it against her,’ I said, catching his drift.

‘Scion believes we are too powerful to destroy. That we have no weaknesses. You could prove them wrong,’ he said. ‘Nashira will try to kill you at the Bicentenary. There is one simple way to humiliate her.’ He placed the very tips of his fingers under my chin, lifting it. ‘Stop her.’

I searched his face. His eyes were dim, soft.

‘I just have to survive,’ I said. ‘I don’t have to defeat her. Just survive.’

‘Yes.’

Something in me was turning to steel.

‘Scion left me alive thirteen years ago, to bear witness. To spread fear,’ I said quietly. ‘I want to remind them that if you leave one spark aglow, it can still burn everything down.’ My face hardened. ‘Let’s give them a day to remember, like they did for us in Ireland. I’ll help you get your vengeance. You help me get mine.’

Warden held out a hand. I shook it, then watched as he clasped my fingers to his chest.

‘Our equivalent of a handshake,’ he said, by way of explanation. ‘In some circles.’

‘Suitably dramatic.’

‘You consider me dramatic.’

‘You own a gramophone, play the organ, and wear a cloak.’

‘Touché.’

He did have a heart. It beat against my palm, strong and steady, unchanging. Even through his doublet, I could feel his warmth.

‘We have plans to make,’ Warden said. ‘Will you join me?’

After a moment, I nodded. ‘I will.’

Magdalen had many rooms. One of them was the Old Kitchen, which Warden had walled up at some point in his many decades in Magdalen. Now it could be entered only through a bookshelf on hinges. He opened it for me and let me go ahead of him, into the room beyond.

Michael was already there. He warmed me a mug of creamy saloop, a popular winter drink in London.

‘Oh, I’ve missed this.’ I blew on it. ‘Thank you, Michael.’

Michael signed to Warden, looking pleased.

‘Yes,’ Warden said. ‘I am glad Paige is joining us, too.’

He sat on the other side of the oak table, as did Michael.

‘Okay,’ I said. ‘We have two months to plan this. Are Faz and Gail in on it?’

‘They know a little.’ Warden clasped his hands on the table. ‘I made several mistakes during the last rebellion. You must not repeat them, Paige.’

‘Before we get into that, I need you to understand that I am not a strategist. I’m a career criminal. We don’t have battles in the syndicate – we have ambushes and occasional brawls. It’s not honourable.’

‘Honour did not help us last time. That is why I am engaging the services of a thief.’ Warden nodded to a map of Oxford. ‘We have several advantages that I did not have before, including the train. The celebration will also help disguise our movements.’

Michael cleared his throat and chimed in, with Warden observing him.

‘We will need to establish a route through the city, to Port Meadow,’ Warden said, for my sake. ‘Only a trusted few performers and amaurotics should know where we are going.’

‘I agree,’ I said. ‘Warden, I assume you spread word to all the humans last time.’

‘Yes. Naïvely, I believed they would keep the secret, since my intention was to help them.’

‘We can’t do that again. Among the performers, I trust Liss and Julian,’ I said. ‘You could lead the amaurotics, Michael.’ He shook his head at once, cutting a hand across his throat. ‘Who, then – Faz?’

Warden was studying me. ‘You trust none of the other performers, Paige?’

‘Not enough to give them specifics yet. Maybe Guy, at a push. Jos, too, but he’s young. I don’t think it’s fair to put that on him.’

‘He may be useful as a courier.’

Michael signalled his agreement – probably vouching for a fellow polyglot.

‘I don’t think we should trust any of the red-jackets. Most of them are too indoctrinated. They’ve benefited from this system, unlike the performers,’ I said. ‘Was the traitor one of them, last time?’

‘Yes.’

‘So let’s not repeat that cock-up.’

‘How do you propose they are handled, then?’

‘There are guns in the House, but they look antique, and Thuban clearly has them counted. We don’t want to raise the alarm too early.’

‘Hm. Terebell may be able to conceal any unavoidable theft.’

‘Good to know, but we could avoid fighting them at all. I thought we could either drug or poison them. That way, Nashira will see they weren’t involved in the rebellion. Even if we leave them behind, I don’t want to condemn them to death,’ I said. ‘Liss should be able to find herbs that will make them sick, or we could use white or purple aster. Duckett grows it in the physic garden.’

‘An admirably devious idea, Paige.’ Warden seemed to consider it. ‘The weapons in the House would not be effective against us.’

‘Oh, really?’

I put my air pistol and acid darts on the table.

‘Fluoroantimonic acid injures the Emim, but it only slows us,’ Warden said. ‘Since it is an earthly substance, our bodies purge it quickly.’

‘You’re telling me that if I hit you with one of these, nothing would happen?’

‘It would hurt considerably, but I would be able to remain standing.’

‘What about fire?’

‘As above.’

‘Fucking hell.’ I took a deep breath. ‘Okay, next scheme. What if we made projectiles that contain the pollen?’

‘A sound idea, but our resources are limited.’

‘If you have the right ones, I do know how to improvise crude guns and bullets. Even if we can only make a few, it could be worth it. If not, we could use our existing resources – replace the acid or flux in these with our own mixture. Does the pollen still work if it’s diluted?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then we can just switch the contents. With care, obviously.’ I patted the pistol. ‘How many Rephs would be willing to fight the Sargas?’

‘Not all of them who share our sentiments can – one, in particular, has a trusted position we do not want to risk,’ Warden said. ‘I will be able to muster six of them to your defence. Other than Terebell, I will not share their names.’

‘That’s a lot better than none. Something else did occur to me,’ I said. ‘First, I assume there’s no phone reception here.’

‘No.’

‘Good. The emissaries won’t be able to call for help unless they have a satellite phone. But Nashira must have a way to contact London.’

‘Balliol has electricity and a single computer with access to the Scionet. It is heavily guarded.’

‘We need to cut the power. If not, Nashira will be able to alert London and Winterbrook to the rebellion. Even if we got away from the Vigiles, Scion would either stop the train, or we’d be killed at the other end,’ I said. ‘Do you have any allies at Balliol?’

‘No,’ Warden said, only for Michael to nod vigorously. ‘Very good, Michael.’

‘Yes, great. The amaurotics’ network will be crucial,’ I said. ‘Michael, help me out again. Since Warden here drinks like a fish, I assume you have plenty of wine in the residence.’ Michael nodded. ‘The emissaries will probably have bodyguards, and we’ll have to fight our way past them. We can make fire bottles.’

They glanced at each other, Michael looking torn between concern and pride.

‘Look, I know some … enthusiastic pyromancers. Magdalen is safe,’ I said, impatient. ‘Now, would you two kindly get some imagination?’

Warden said, ‘I fear we could not match your personal brand of chaos, Paige.’

I pursed my lips. Just then, the bookshelf swung open, and in came Gail.

‘Warden,’ she said, a little flushed. Warden stood. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, but there’s a performer outside. He’s asking to be allowed to see Paige.’

I rose at once, brushing past her and breaking into a run to the Porters’ Lodge. None of them would have risked coming here without good reason.

When I pulled open the heavy door, I ushered Julian straight in and shut it. His eyes were bloodshot.

‘Jules,’ I said. ‘Did anyone follow you?’

‘No.’ He was hoarse. ‘Paige, it’s Liss. We got the new cards and gave them to her, but she’s rejecting them. Her aura is still there, but she won’t eat or drink, and—’ A tear seeped down his cheek. ‘She’s dying.’

Warden entered the Porters’ Lodge. Julian backed away, grasping my arm.

‘Bring Liss here,’ Warden said, eyes burning in the gloom. ‘Do not be seen.’

I gave Julian a nod. He left the way he had come, and I leaned against the wall, holding myself.

Dawn broke while Julian was gone. I paced the cloister. When he returned, Jos was close behind. Fazal had woken by then, ready to relieve Gail. They both watched Julian carry Liss Rymore into Magdalen.

In the Old Kitchen, Julian laid Liss on the table, with a cushion to support her head. Liss had turned pale to her lips. In a few days, she had lost so much weight. A few numa were twisted into her hair.

‘I don’t know what to do.’ Julian swallowed. ‘Her spirit wants to go.’

Warden surveyed the scene. Jos gave him a tentative smile. Mustering a breath, I took Warden by the sleeve and led him back into the cloister.

‘You still owe me a favour,’ I said. ‘I know we’ve helped each other a few times, but—’ My voice shook. ‘If you can save her life, that’s what I want.’

‘She has been in spirit shock for several weeks. Even if I can save her, she will need amaranth to recover.’

‘I know.’

‘You are aware that Nashira stopped my supply.’

‘Yes.’ I had to force the next words out: ‘But you do have the last dose.’

Warden glanced towards the Old Kitchen. We both knew what I was asking.

‘Without the entire vial, I may be weaker than my wont at the Bicentenary. There is also no guarantee that a reconnection will work,’ he said, ‘but if this is what you desire, I will try to grant you the favour I promised you, Paige.’

‘It is what I desire.’ I kept hold of his sleeve. ‘Please, save her, Warden. Do this for me, and I’ll lead your rebellion.’

Warden looked at my hand on his sleeve, then my face. After a moment, he nodded.

In the Old Kitchen, seven of us gathered around the table – five voyants, an amaurotic, and a Reph. Jos came to stand just in front of me.

Warden assessed Liss. She looked fragile, her dark hair fanned across the table. He took the vial of amaranth from his doublet and removed its stopper.

‘I will need the deck of tarot cards,’ he said. ‘And a sharp blade or tool.’

Fazal handed over the penny knife on his belt, while Julian gave up the cards. Lips pressed together, he glanced at me. I gave him a tiny nod.

‘Paige.’ Jos looked up at me tearfully. ‘Is Liss going to die?’

I couldn’t bring myself to answer. All I could do was grasp his shoulder, hoping to comfort him.

Warden tipped the vial against his thumb. I felt a twinge of guilt. Taking Liss by the chin, he dabbed a drop on each of her temples, and a third under her nose. Julian kept a firm grip on her limp and unresponsive hand. Warden offered him the knife, holding it by the blade.

‘Prick her fingers.’

Julian hesitated. ‘What?’

‘I require a little of her blood. If you care for her, you should do this.’

Steeling himself, Julian did as he was told, nicking each of her fingertips, drawing tiny beads of blood. Warden nodded his approval.

‘Spread the cards.’

Michael and I were the ones to do it, laying the deck in rows across the table. Warden took Liss carefully by the hand and wiped her fingers across the Major Arcana, smearing the pictures with blood.

Liss made no sound. The only sign that she was alive was the slightest rise of her chest. Warden kept going, now marking each of the suit cards.

Now the cards knew Liss, but Liss still did not know the cards.

Warden wiped the blade clean and returned it to Fazal. Next, he unlaced the cuff of his doublet and drew it up, showing the corded muscle of his forearm. He sliced his inner elbow, and his blood seeped from the cut, the same greenish yellow as his eyes, sharpening my perception. It cast all our faces in a strange light.

‘Wow,’ Jos breathed.

Michael smiled.

Nearby, spirits were gathering – drawn to a numen, to Liss, to Warden. It reminded me of a séance. The ectoplasm dripped on to the cards.

Warden gathered the deck back together and placed them on her breastbone, then folded her hands over them. He spoke in soft Gloss, and the æther quaked around us all, the light of his blood flickering.

Liss opened her eyes.

We all waited, on tenterhooks. Liss sat bolt upright, breathing hard. The deck fell into her lap. While she stared at it, we stared at her.

‘I’m still voyant,’ she said, stunned.

Before she could say another word, Julian and I had both embraced her, crushing her between us. She laughed weakly and clutched us back, tears on her cheeks. Suddenly mine were damp as well.

‘Liss.’ Julian kissed her brow. ‘We thought we’d lost you.’

‘You’d be so lucky.’ Liss grasped my hand. ‘Paige, how did you do this?’

Wordlessly, I looked up at Warden. Liss followed my line of sight and immediately recoiled against Julian, who curled an arm around her.

‘Warden,’ she said in a faint voice.

He inclined his head.

‘You will soon be missed in the Rookery, Liss,’ he said, ‘but you may stay in the halls of Magdalen until dusk falls anew, to recover your strength. You will need it for the weeks ahead.’

Without another word, he left the Old Kitchen, and the darkness swallowed him back into Magdalen. Part of me wanted to go after him, but all I could do was hold on to the shaking Liss.

‘He’s on our side,’ she said. I nodded. ‘Then we have a chance, Paige.’

‘Yes.’ I looked at Julian. ‘I need a favour, Jules. I want you to go back to the Rookery and tell everyone who will listen that I am the Pale Dreamer, heir of the White Binder. Tell them I survived the Dublin Incursion. Tell them that even the Rephs fear me – and that if we ever get out of here, you’re certain I would find a place for them in London.’

Julian took all of this in his stride. ‘Are you sure you want to do this, Paige?’

‘I’m sure.’

The three Magdalen residents stood by as Jos scrambled on to the table and joined the hug. I released my first easy breath in weeks. Liss was right. Maybe we did have a chance.

On the first day of July, I got up at sunset. I left the yellow tunic in the cabinet and put on my undershirt and combat trousers. I laced up my boots, as I had too many times before. I trimmed my hair back into its bob.

Arcturus Mesarthim waited underneath the stars. I met him on the grass of the Great Quad.

‘I’m ready,’ I said.

He nodded. I nodded back.