I was happy to return to Silvring Hall and to resume my work and studies. Though I still needed to take daily medication against pain and infection, my strength returned quickly.

Gash had luckily missed arteries and vital organs. It was excessive blood loss which had rendered me comatose. I bore scars over the right side of my neck and shoulder, a ring of large punctures held closed with metal staples, along with three lacerations down my chest.

Mr. Forsyth and Gerald came to visit for a few days, after I'd been released from the infirmary.

Gerald paled when I took off my shirt and showed him the damage. "You're likely blemished for life," he said.

"So I've been told."

"Well, you wouldn't be the first hunter to earn such marks. At least you didn't lose something important, like an ear, or the family jewels."

I smirked and tucked my shirt back in. "My mother insists she saved my life with her magical powers, which is preposterous."

"Indeed," said Gerald. "You're alive because of Duke, and our guides. Malachai and Ulwazi were brilliant. Your father paid them handsomely for their service."

"Good. They deserved it."

We left my room and strolled down the hall.

Father was in his office with Mr. Forsyth, discussing news over imported cigars.

"At least the trial has ended," Mr. Forsyth said. "The verdict will be delivered this afternoon. I want to see all seventeen of the bastards incarcerated for years to come, with a double sentence for that worthless valet of yours."

"Mr. Whitlock will receive his due," said Father. "And anyone who gave him a good reference will be permanently off of my staffing list."

"A wise decision." Mr. Forsyth sighed. "It pains me that this event has inadvertently associated Blane Industries with the likes of Lovejoy-Prynne. For all our efforts to set ourselves apart, and treat our workers fairly, it seems we've fallen short somehow."

Father cleared his throat. "Have no worries. I've a plan to restore good faith with the miners and unions. We'll discuss it later." His wristcom chimed, and he answered. "Blane."

Mr. Tremaine appeared on hologram, shimmering in blue and silver miniature an inch above Father's starched cuff.

"Good afternoon, Richard," Mr. Tremaine said. "How are your father and son faring?"

"Silas Jr. is well, thank you," Father replied. "The elder is still bedridden."

"I'm saddened to hear this. I'm in Belenus today, and I was hoping to speak with the old mastermind about my latest public relations proposal."

Father sat on the edge of his desk and tapped his cigar into the ornate glass ashtray he kept there. "I'd be happy to relay your information to him. Are you free within the hour?"

"I am, sir. And I'm already at company headquarters, if you're so inclined."

They arranged to meet, and Father disconnected. He fetched his overcoat and bowler from the rack by the door. "Silas, your brother and uncle will be here in a few hours. See that the staff is made aware, and have the appropriate guest rooms made up."

"Yes, sir." I answered dutifully, though I was disappointed.

Castor had been away on a business trip to Mars with Uncle Holten, on the outing Mother had invited me to before we left for Thohadoun. The estate was blessedly quiet without my brother around, and I'd relished it while it lasted.

Mr. Forsyth put on his hat and coat and followed Father toward the door. "Gerald, your mother and cousin will also arrive later, after their business in the colonies. Please greet them properly."

Gerald nodded. "Certainly, Father."

We accompanied them outside, to bid a respectful farewell.

The chauffeur waited in the driveway, and they climbed into Father's luxury hover car. It was a new LaGrande Model J, the latest aerodynamic marque, with gleaming black and chrome accents rounding into teardrop points.

Gerald and I waved as they glided down the long driveway, and through the enormous iron gates.

I relayed Father's orders to Mr. Pierce, the fastidious butler of Silvring Hall.

He nodded serenely and turned on one polished heel to alert the servants.

"We've got a few hours to ourselves, with how long they usually take in their meetings," I said. "What would you like to do?"

"Let's go out," said Gerald. "The lighting's superb in Belenus today. I'd like to sketch a few ideas out, if you don't mind."

"Of course not." I was pleased that my beloved home inspired him.

We descended the broad steps leading to the central garden.

It was difficult for me to appreciate his artistic sensibilities. As I viewed the world through specialized lenses, much of the subtlety was lost on me. Nevertheless, there was an undeniable difference in the way things looked that day--a slanted contrast, and tangible radiance. I followed Gerald's whims, curious as to where they might take us.

After we'd traversed the hedge labyrinth a few times, we played a few rounds of lawn tennis. Then we walked to the lake, at the northwestern edge of the property.

Manicured trees and rock arrangements surrounded the banks, the placid surface reflecting fragmented rays. It was a lovely area for sport or relaxation, an artificial reservoir about a hundred yards across. The steward kept it stocked with several varieties of fish, in case we ever wanted to cast a line. Several ducks and swans paddled closer, hoping we had treats for them. There was a small wooden dock, with a rowboat tied alongside. We climbed in, and I grabbed the oars.

Gerald's grin was contagious. He took off his cap and was soon huddled over his sketchbook. The fevered scratch of his pencil set a rhythm to the dip and slosh of water.

"This is fantastic," he said. "I wish we had a clear dome like this on Altair-7. We unfortunately don't get much ambiance like this in the habitat."

I smiled, pulling the oars in as we drifted toward the ornate fountain in the middle of the lake. A dozen arcing jets of water bathed the bronze statue of a willowy young huntress, her bow raised to the sky. Stylized birds soared in panic about her, their long necks and outstretched wings set in striking geometric ridges, hinting at feathers.

"You're welcome to come for an extended visit anytime you like," I said. "My father won't mind."

"Perhaps I can, during interim break."

Gerald attended a private school on the colony where he lived, unlike the home tutoring Castor and I received. In another year we'd both enter prep school, as was required of all youth of our class, to ready us for acceptance into society.

"Will you apply for prep school this year?" I asked.

"No. I'll enroll at fifteen, like everyone else." He raised a curious eyebrow. "Have you given thought to which you'll attend?"

I shrugged. "I've looked into Hamilton Prep. Many reviewers have praised it of late."

"Oh no, no. You can't go there."

"Why not?"

He laughed. "It's an all-boys school, you prude."

"There's nothing wrong with that."

"Everything's wrong about it. All work, no girls, you'll go mad before the first interim. Choose co-ed, my friend. And we need to go together. I'll obviously have to remind you there's more to life than studying for your future career."

I shook my head. "You're terrible."

"I'm not terrible, I'm right. Enough talk of school, I want to draw you. Take off your glasses for a moment. I want an accurate view of your face."

I obliged him, though I had to keep my eyes closed, and shaded them with a hand against the glare.

Minutes passed. The only sounds were the soft splash of the fountain, the birds fluttering and calling, and the scrawl of Gerald's pencil.

Then, my ears began to ring. I put my glasses back on, feeling dizzy. The ringing became a complex, definite sound. Music. I'd heard it before--dry clacking, and a thin, whistled blare.

The world spun. Pain sliced through my skull. I clutched my head and cringed.

A daydream opened, stealing my mind.

Water. Not the lake, but a river. I recognized the murky depths. Though my eyes were unprotected, I saw clearly, through a bright space that I knew wasn't physical.

"Hold on," Gerald said. "I'll get you back to the house."

My awareness faded in and out until he rowed us to shore. He supported me with a firm arm beneath my shoulders and helped me to stand.

A dull ache throbbed in my head. Again came the shriek and clash of the baffling music.

"Do you hear that?" I asked. I tried to walk, but stumbled, distracted by a vague glimpse of movement a few yards up the shore.

"You're delirious," Gerald said. "Just a few more steps. We're almost to the gatehouse."

The music quieted, and a figure emerged from a row of flowering vines. A young woman drifted toward the water, clad in a gown that barely concealed her pale skin.

"Wait." I  stepped toward her.

Laughter echoed as if she was everywhere, yet nowhere. Her bare feet never touched the ground, yet she left behind distinct prints in the mud. A shadow fell around us, and I felt as if I stood out of time.

She looked over her shoulder, but I only saw the teasing curve of her lips beneath the sunset blur of her hair.

"Daring enough for a dip, Mr. Blane?"

I reached toward her, but she vanished into the water, causing neither splash nor ripple.

"Silas." Gerald shook me by the arm. "Please, answer me."

I swayed, and the familiar surroundings of the lake and reality returned. There was no woman, no footprints to prove that she'd been there, and the music stilled at last.

"There was a girl," I said. "Beautiful...did you see her just now?"

Gerald's brow furrowed. "No. I would have spotted a beautiful girl immediately, trust me. You're seeing things. Come with me. It's just a little further."

My head ached, but I forced myself to hobble alongside my friend, clinging to him for support, and a sense of actuality.

He led me into the gatehouse, a short trek from the lake. The two guards on duty rushed out to meet us and assisted me to a chair inside their small but tidy office.

Gerald offered me a glass of cold water, which I gladly accepted. I was already feeling better, though still a little disoriented.

He patted me on the arm as I sipped. "There. You've got a little color back now. You gave me a real scare."

I smiled weakly. "Thank you for the help."

"No questions asked. I have no doubt you'd do the same for me. Have a rest. I'll call Mr. Pierce for a car."

"There's no need," I said. "I'm all right, now."

The chime of Gerald's wristcom interrupted.

"Damn, it's my mother. Excuse me for a moment."

The hologram sputtered into prompt view above his wrist.

"Good evening, Gerald." Mrs. Forsyth exuded condescension through every gesture, the very slant of her eyes a downward appraisal of one's appearance and standing.

Gerald straightened his posture. "Good evening, Mother. Are you due to arrive soon?"

"We're at the gate now," she said. She turned her profile and covered a yawn with a finely gloved hand. "Do be sure you come to meet us."

"I'm at the gate already," Gerald said.

"What?"

He frowned. "I said, I'm already here, in the gatehouse with Silas. We could use a ride back to the house. Silas isn't feeling well."

Another woman's voice sounded alarmed. "Oh no, where is he?"

My mother. What in hell was she doing here?

"Well, then," Mrs. Forsyth said. "Stop dawdling and bring him here at once."

"Yes, ma'am."

Mrs. Forsyth disconnected.

Gerald sighed, then turned to me. "Are you able to walk now?"

I nodded, dreading the fact that my own mother was present. "I'm fine."

The platinum and chrome limousine waited for us, parked just inside the gate.

The chauffeur opened the door, and Mother rushed out.

"Silas, are you unwell?" Her gaudy bracelets and baubles clattered as she took my hand.

"I experienced a brief moment of weakness, but I'm fine," I said.

"I think you should call a doctor, Mrs. Blane," said Gerald. "He was hallucinating and nearly swooned."

Mother gasped. "Let's return to the house at once. Help him in."

I rolled my eyes and clambered into the car with Gerald. The door closed behind us, trapping us with Mrs. Forsyth and Gerald's cousin, Imogen.

Three pairs of feminine eyes bored into me.

Gerald never spoke well of his mother, and I understood why. Mrs. Phyllis Forsyth could spear anyone to attention with one flick of her sharp brown eyes. She was much younger than Mr. Forsyth, likely an arranged match, though she could boast no aristocratic lineage I knew of. She was of common birth, and rumor carried that she had married Archibald for wealth alone. Mink adorned her thin shoulders like a regal mantle, a queen in her own mind. Forced, well-rehearsed, and aloof. Her skin heavily-powdered and brunette hair pinned tight beneath the pleated brim of a cloche hat, she flaunted the image of a strict society wife all too well. However, her calculated postures always seemed forced. Seated across from me, she folded her hands over one knee and studied me. Diamond earrings glimmered with every turn of her head, and a necklace of platinum and diamond skulls wreathed her slender neck.

Imogen Forsyth was a year older than Gerald and me. I'd only seen her a few times, a quiet girl who always sought a book to hide in. Straight brown hair framed her ears in a blunt, trendy bob. The peaches-and-cream frock she wore accentuated her figure well. She was pretty, but I'd never liked her much. She had the conversational skills of a deflated cake. Worse, she stared at me all the time. Everywhere I went. Thankfully, she didn't visit us often.

Mother clung to my arm, as she always did when cosseting me. Pressed between her and Gerald's bodies on the overcrowded back seat, I couldn't escape.

"Tell me what happened to you," Mother said.

"I'd rather not speak of it now." I replied.

Mother and Mrs. Forsyth traded an odd glance. I'd never known them to be close companions before. In fact, I'd always assumed that they disliked each other from their cold and overly formal interactions. Their slow, shared nods, and the way Mother's lips curled into the faintest smile, hinted at an unspoken agreement of some sort. I wanted nothing more than to leap from the car and run all the way back to my room.

"You mustn't hide things from me," Mother said. "If you're unwell, you need to tell me."

I lifted my chin. "I told you, I'd rather not mention it now."

Her voice held an uncertain calm. "We're too much alike, my son. If I must do this, I must."

I glared at her. "What must you do, exactly?"

Mother didn't answer. She merely smiled and kept a tight grip on my hand until we reached the house.

Once we were out of the car, I hurried away from the lot of them and sprinted up the steps. Undaunted, Mother paced to my side, flanking me.

Mr. Pierce and the staff greeted us in the proper formation.

"Make yourselves at home," Mother said to the Forsyths. "Mr. Pierce, please escort our guests to the sitting room. We'll join them in a moment. Now, Silas, I want a word with you in the parlor. At once." She pointed to the parlor door.

I sighed and obeyed. She'd never let me out of this. Once inside, she closed the door behind us. I slouched into one of the oversized leather chairs before the fireplace, wishing I could sneak away and hide.

Mother pulled all of the drapes closed until the room was dim. Then she knelt beside me and reached for my glasses.

I leaned away from her pale fingers. "What are you doing? Get away."

"Not this time. You'll listen to me for once. I'm your mother." She pulled my glasses off and gripped my chin, forcing me to look at her.

"I won't be treated like a child," I said.

"Then talk to me like an adult." She crossed her arms and leaned over me. Though she was a petite woman, she looked impossibly tall at that moment. "Your recent brush with death has unleashed abilities you don't understand. If you deny them, they'll consume you. I won't let that happen."

I scoffed. "If this is about your absurd supernatural powers, our conversation ends here."

She grabbed me by the collar, her dollish face bent close to mine. "Don't mock me." I'd never heard such an icy hiss in her voice. "Speak the truth. All of it. Now."

This would never end until I surrendered. With no chance of escape, I caved and told her everything--the music I'd heard, the pain, the apparition of the young woman.

"Blessed Guardians." She raised a hand to her throat and turned even paler. "You're a seer like me, and like your great-grandfather, Kraelis Jaster."

"What in the worlds are you saying?"

"I'll tell you when the time is right. You have more important things to learn first. That's why I'm here."

"You still aren't making sense."

She huffed a sigh. "Listen, with both your ears and your brain this time. You must learn to control and harness your emerging power, or it'll become dangerous. To you as well as others. I dreamed of you last night. In this dream, you drowned in a black river and pulled your brother down with you. Have no fear. I'll teach you to swim across those dark waters. Worlds beyond your imagining are unfolding all around you. You have but to open your inner eyes to find them."

I straightened my posture. I hadn't told her about the river from my vision. "I've seen this black river more than once in my own dreams. What does it mean?"

"It's a place known to those who travel between the realms," she said. "There's a secret rite called Knoseidtru, the Song of Bone. It will open your Sight and unlock your destiny."

I frowned. "Knoseidtru...isn't that a Pruessian word?"

"It is. Our surname, Jaster, is Pruessian. We hail from one of the last bloodlines to carry the bone-songs of the Old Ways. Goteborye Province, the crown capital, is our homeland. The Pruessians may be the enemy, but their ancestors are also ours. We share the blood and bone spirit-gifts of their ancient Circles."

I recalled the night when the Kaezer had shown me his talking bones and ancestral skulls and shuddered. "Alright," I said. "How will you teach me to 'swim' across this imaginary black river?"

"It isn't imaginary. You'll see." She traced a soft finger along my jaw. "Wait here. We have a special guest to help us today."

She left the room, and I was startled when she returned a minute later with Mrs. Forsyth. Fashionable heels tapped against the floor boards as they approached.

"So, young man," Mrs. Forsyth said. "Your mother tells me you have the Sight."

"Unlikely, but she insists I do," I replied.

Mrs. Forsyth's tone remained stern. "We'll see. If you pass my test, I may believe it."

I accepted her challenge with a single nod.

Mother hurried to lock the doors and made sure the windows were closed. She pushed a chair forward and offered it to Mrs. Forsyth with a bow.

Mrs. Forsyth smoothed her tiered skirt and eased into the chair, facing me. "Do you have a candle, Octavia? We'll need a flame."

Mother fetched a taper from the mantle and set it on the small table beside us. She lit it, then stepped back.

Mrs. Forsyth reached into her tasseled, gold-trimmed purse, and removed two strange objects--a sealed porcelain jar, and a knife with a carved bone handle and sheath, which looked much like the athame Mother had given me. "Let's begin," she said. "Give me your hand, Silas."

I did as she asked.

Mrs. Forsyth removed her gaudy rings and gloves and set them carefully aside on the table. The largest ring was of molded silver and bore an effigy of a grinning skull. Mother always wore such a ring on her left little finger.

Gerald told me once that his mother was involved with a weird secret club, some kind of cult. He'd always been afraid of it. Was my mother a part of it, too?

"Octavia, please perform the appropriate blessings," Mrs. Forsyth said.

"Yes, my Lady." Mother paced a slow, deliberate circle around us, with her arms raised and head thrown back. "Guardians of the circle, hear our call." Her chant was low and monotone.

Mrs. Forsyth unsheathed her bone knife and wrapped her elegant fingers around my wrist. "Guardians of east, south, west, and north, we call thee," she said. The throaty drone of her voice blended with Mother's. She held the knife aloft and closed her eyes.

Mother continued to weave her incantation around us.

Mrs. Forsyth opened her eyes and raised her voice skyward. "Knoseidtru, astisya il nos. Potye av gehmnesser."

Pruessian words. I couldn't move, could scarcely breathe.

Mother finished her circling and stood behind Mrs. Forsyth, watching with a distant gaze.

"This is an athame of the Order of the Sacred Skulls," Mrs. Forsyth said. "I understand your mother has given you one."

I swallowed. "Yes, ma'am."

"Very good. Your mother is correct. The power has already stirred within you. I sense it. Are you ready to begin?"

My voice trembled, along with my heart. "Yes...I suppose so."

She passed the sharp tip of the athame through the candle flame several times. Then she made a small, swift cut in the center of my palm.

I winced a bit, and scarlet dots of blood oozed from the wound.

Mrs. Forsyth removed the stopper from her porcelain jar. A staunch, earthy odor wafted forth, bitterly strong for such a small container.

"What is that?" I asked.

"Asulma, the elixir of Sight," said Mrs. Forsyth. "It opens the inner eyes and allows one to see across death and time. You'll have but a taste of it today, so that we may observe your response."

She dipped a finger into the jar and dabbed the oily brown liquid into my cut. A pleasant tingling began, thrumming with an odd warmth into my flesh.

"It has a heartbeat," I said. I stiffened and tried to pull my hand from hers.

"Be still." Mrs. Forsyth rubbed the blood and elixir with a gentle thumb into my skin, just as Mother had done when I'd woken in the hospice room. "The Guardians are with us. You're safe here."

The air around her shimmered, fluctuating. Misty shadows gathered around the room, clouding my earthly vision.

"It's heavy," I said. "Like water. I can't breathe."

The constant rhythm of Mother's chant provided some comfort.

"Surrender to the pull," Mrs. Forsyth whispered. "The stillness calls you in."

Everything went dark. A noise louder than a thousand ocean waves rushed in my head. There was no stillness, inside or out. It was a deafening current, a force sweeping me into an indecipherable abyss.

The chanting sounded muffled and distant.

I spun in a whirlpool, drowning in the black water of my nightmares. Then, as if washed up on a desolate shore, my perception riveted into clarity.

"Tell me what you see." Mrs. Forsyth's voice rang through the void. I couldn't see her, yet knew she was near, providing an anchor in this translucent, living dream.

The black river surged around my bare ankles, feeling more like wind than liquid. "I see dark water."

A barren shore coalesced into view. It shifted like a mirage. The longer I stared, the more concrete the images became.

Broad plains appeared. Soon after, two enormous statues of glistening black stone took shape. "There are monuments," I said. "In the distance. Towering skeletons of animals. Wings...they have wings of bone."

I stepped onto the bank and heard a dry wheezing sound beside me. When I looked down, I met the vacant sockets of a canine skull, the lurid grin of fleshless jaws--what was left of my dog. Strips of rotten flesh fluttered over his ridges of exposed bone.

I cried out and sputtered for breath as the physical world slowly returned.

Mother huddled beside me and held me in her arms.

"It was Duke." I clung to her, my body shaking. "He's dead, but I saw him...he was there." It was too much to bear. I sobbed like a child on Mother's shoulder for a good while.

"You've seen the truth," Mother said. "Your friend lives in the Otherworld, now. Praise the ancestors, he's returned to your side so swiftly."

When my tears finally subsided, Mrs. Forsyth placed a hand on my arm. "You possess incredible power. With but a few drops of Asulma, you glimpsed the blessed portal and have met your guide. I'd be honored to teach you the Old Ways, if you're willing."

I blew into my handkerchief and nodded as eloquently as I could.

Mother looked as if she'd weep for joy herself. "I've longed for this day, my son. I'm so proud of you."

Mrs. Forsyth put away her ceremonial items and smoothed a stray lock of hair from her face. "In two weeks, the Order will meet," she said. "Your mother will summon you when the time arrives. Until then, know that everything you've seen and heard today must be kept in strict confidentiality. The Order demands absolute silence and integrity. Do you understand."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good." She yawned and looked at Mother. "Might I have a spot of tea, Octavia? Journeying between realms exhausts me."

Mother rang the order to the staff and unlocked the doors. Not long after, a pair of custodian robots strutted in, delivering the hot refreshments.

While the two women whispered and threw sidelong glances at me, I pondered everything I'd just experienced. In a single day, my sense of reality had been upturned, overthrown. I'd always been a logical person, with a practical approach to things unknown. The novelty of learning these neolithic Pruessian bone rites piqued my interest. I swirled a lump of sugar into my tea and laughed quietly at the strangeness of it all.