“There you are Miss Falling Hawk,” he said in a rich voice she knew from their few conversations over the phone. “I had begun to fear my writing was so boring it had put you to sleep. I suppose then I’ll dismiss the idea of becoming a novelist. No matter–it’s not nearly so glamorous a career as I first imagined. Would you like a cup of tea? Please, sit with me.”
He gestured to an empty wing‑backed chair near his. Between the chairs was a tea table bearing a pot, two cups, a pitcher of cream, and a plate of lemon wedges. He smiled, an act that rendered him more handsome yet. The irises of his eyes were a brilliant gold that matched the spider‑shaped ring on his left hand.
Deirdre moved to the chair and sat. She was so numb she hardly felt the teacup when he placed it in her hands. The cup rattled against the saucer, and it occurred to her she should take a sip to keep it from spilling, but she could not seem to make the muscles of her arms obey. She could only stare at him. At his gold eyes.
He took a sip of his tea, a languid motion, then gazed around at the dim hall. “It’s been a long time since I’ve returned here, to my old home. The last occasion was nearly a century ago. Often I’ve longed to come back, but I didn’t dare. It would not do to have the others think I cared so much about the past. That I had never forgotten.” He breathed a sigh. “It’s a bit shabbier these days, but otherwise just as I remembered it. The docents and caretakers have done well.”
Deirdre’s teacup clattered against the saucer. “You,” she managed to croak. “You’re part of the consortium Eleanor talked about.”
Marius gave a soft laugh. “I’m afraid I amthe consortium, Miss Falling Hawk. I set up Madstone Hall as a private museum and created the facade of a governing board so the Philosophers would believe the manor had passed out of my hands.”
“And did it work?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes I believe Phoebe still watches me. Of them all, she was always the cleverest, and the last to treat me as an equal. But the Philosophers think of little more than themselves these days, and of their ultimate transformation. Nothing else concerns them. Not even the dark spots in the sky.”
“No one seems concerned about them,” Deirdre murmured. “No one seems to care that they keep growing. It’s as if everyone has already given up.”
“You haven’t given up, Miss Falling Hawk.” Marius sipped his tea. “I doubt even Phoebe remembers Madstone Hall exists. Still, caution is always the wisest counsel. That’s why I’ve kept my communications with you limited and secret.”
The warmth of the fire had done Deirdre good, and her trembling–as much from sitting so long in the chilly manor as from shock–had eased. She finally managed to take a sip of her tea.
“Why now?” she said, her voice stronger. “For more than three years you’ve kept to the shadows, never offering me so much as a glimpse of who you are. Now here you sit, offering me tea. Something has changed. What is it?”
This time his laughter was louder, richer. “That’s why I chose you, Deirdre–may I call you Deirdre? Miss Falling Hawkseems so formal, now that we’re speaking face‑to‑face, and you must call me Marius. That’s why I selected you out of all the other journeymen whose files I examined. You’re intelligent of course–the tests demonstrated that. But it’s your instincts that impressed me, your ability to know what’s right even when there’s no logical way you shouldknow.”
The tea churned in her stomach. “How long have you been watching me?”
“Almost from your first day with the Seekers. I have good instincts as well, you see.” He set down his cup and rested his elbows on the arms of the chair. “After I detected the first signs that perihelion between Earth and the otherworld approached, I searched in earnest for one in whom I might place my trust. After a time I began to fear the search was in vain. Then you entered the Seekers, and I knew I had found what I was looking for. You were clever, curious, and willing to bend rules in the pursuit of knowledge–all traits I required. Yet you were also honest, loyal, and possessed of a highly developed sense of rightfulness. You are not simply a good person, Deirdre. You are a justperson. In the end, you will place the greater good above all else, above all other desires and obligations.”
Here he was at last, her mysterious helper, and Deirdre had absolutely no idea what to say. Perhaps his belief in her intelligence was overrated.
“No, Deirdre,” he said, as if sensing her doubts. “Your behavior these last years has only confirmed all my beliefs in you. That I had made the right choice was apparent from the moment you began working on the James Sarsin case.”
She started in the chair, and tea sloshed out of her cup, onto her slacks. “It wasn’t chance, was it? I always believed it was simple luck that I stumbled on that letter from James Sarsin. No one else in the Seekers could have known it referred to Castle City. But you made sure I came upon that letter.”
She set down the cup, sagged back in the chair, and halfheartedly dabbed at her wet slacks with a napkin. Her discovery that the immortal London bookseller James Sarsin and Castle City antique dealer Jack Graystone were the same man had been a major breakthrough–one that had caused her to rise swiftly in the Seekers, and to be assigned as Hadrian Farr’s partner. She had always believed the discovery had been her own, and somehow she felt disappointed now, as if she was far less special than she had believed.
Again he seemed to hear her thoughts, though it was more likely he had simply read her expression. “Don’t be so glum, Deirdre. The fact that I put that letter in the stack of papers on your desk doesn’t change the fact that you recognized it for what it was.”
“But you already knew,” she said, feeling hollow inside. “You already knew Jack Graystone was James Sarsin.”
“Yes, I did. As you know from my journal, it was I who first identified Sarsin’s otherworldly nature. After I became a Philosopher, I continued to keep an eye on him, even though he would have nothing to do with the Seekers. Once he vanished from London, I kept searching for him, and eventually I uncovered evidence that he had traveled to America, to Colorado. After I learned you had a connection to Colorado yourself, I realized it was the perfect opportunity to introduce you to the case without anyone suspecting I was involved. It looked like you made the connection yourself because you didmake the connection yourself, Deirdre. The same was true with the Thomas Atwater case.”
“So you gave me that as well,” she said bitterly. Had she done anything on her own these last five years?
“I did, though it was a bit trickier. More tea?” He filled both their cups, then picked his up in a long‑fingered hand. “I wanted to draw your attention to Thomas Atwater, but I couldn’t do so in a direct manner, lest the others realize what I was up to. That’s why, when you were reinstated in the Seekers, I dreamed up the task of researching historical violations of the Desiderata and had Nakamura give it to you. I knew your researching skills well enough to be confident you would eventually be drawn to Atwater’s case. And you were, more swiftly than I had hoped.”
She frowned; something was wrong with what he had just said. Then she had it. “But that wasn’t my first assignment after I was reinstated. I was supposed to do a cross‑cataloging project. Only Anders took the assignment before I could start.”