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This time, I resisted the urge to look back.

After a few minutes, the road ended abruptly at the foot of a stone wall. The wall was surrounded by trees and undergrowth, so it was difficult to get an idea of its exact size. But there was a sense of gravity to it. I could feel the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stirring slightly as we drew nearer. There was definitely an active materia cluster here, and it seemed to extend in all directions, like a nebula.

We followed the wall until we came to a set of double doors. They were made from what looked like a curious red iron. The metal was heavily oxidized, and etched with symbols that I couldn’t quite make out. I took a step forward, but Lucian grabbed my arm lightly, holding me back.

“Wait,” he said.

As I watched, a dark mass began to spread around the edges of the portal. It flowed like tar, and I realized that it was actually hundreds of spiders, all moving in unison. The spiders completely blanketed the doors, covering every inch of the metal with their small bodies, all of which had green and gold markings. It looked as if someone had hung a tapestry of arachnids before us.

I heard the sound of metal scraping.

A section of the undergrowth surrounding the wall parted, and two enormous spiders emerged into view. They were both twice our size, and their legs looked like furred tree trunks moving across the ground. Each leg was encased in silver plate armor, which was the source of the scraping noise. The plates clicked against one another, making the creatures seem more mechanical than natural. Not that a ten-foot-tall spider looked natural, exactly.

The spider on the left opened its mouth, and I saw that its teeth were also gilded in silver. It looked like it could tear through a bus with those fangs. Its eight eyes regarded me, trembling slightly, like red gelatin.

“Arañas,” Lucian whispered. “Spider demons. Try not to move too much when you’re talking to them. And be polite.”

Of course. Spidergate. Why couldn’t it have been Kittengate?

“Guardians,” Lucian said politely, “We have an audience with Lord Nightingale. May we pass?”

The Araña didn’t answer. Its legs moved. Click click click.

Suddenly, I remembered something that the Iblis had said to Lucian. “I shooed the spider demons away from you.” I couldn’t imagine anyone “shooing” the Arañas, given that they could probably eat me in a single bite. But maybe an Iblis could. They were probably from neighboring dimen-sions.

The Arañas seemed to confer with each other, moving their silver-plated legs and clicking their teeth together. Finally, they both moved to the side. The carpet of arachnids covering the door scur-ried in all directions, vanishing into cracks and crevices within the stone, until the iron was visible once more. I heard a low boom, like a bolt being pushed forward. Then the gates slowly opened.

“Thank you,” Lucian said simply.

I followed him through the entrance, taking one last look at the Arañas. They were watching me with all of their eyes. It made me shiver.

“What exactly is Lord Nightingale trying to keep out?” I asked.

“Everything.”

We walked down a corridor lit by stone basins. I held my hand close to one of the flames, and was startled when frost appeared on my skin.

“Don’t touch it,” Lucian said simply.

We followed the corridor, which opened gradually into a kind of arcade with arched pillars. Vines and leaves crawled up the pillars, some flowering, others bearing black fruit. I followed Lucian, treading lightly over the shadows, until we came to a set of stone doors that had been carved with flowers. I could see green light spilling from the crack beneath the doorframe.

“We’re about to enter the court proper,” Lucian said. “It’s a bit unnerving the first time you see it.

Just remember the rule.”

“No eating,” I said. “And no touching.”

“Perfect.” He smiled. “You’ll do fine.”

He touched the surface of the doors, and they opened silently.

The room beyond was an open courtyard, with low stone walls and no ceiling. The night sky moved overhead, full of stars and almost frightening in its clarity. The green light seemed to be coming from the walls themselves. I looked closer, and realized that the stone was covered with hundreds of glowing green shapes, all clinging to its surface and wriggling their small, plump bodies. Lampyrid larvae. Their twitching tails illuminated the entire courtyard.

There was a stone table in the center of the clearing, with eight seats, all carved from stone as well.

The seats were empty. Behind the table was a raised dais, covered in moss and vines. A chair made of bone seemed to be growing directly out of the undergrowth, its smooth, white edges draped with thorns.

A young man sat on the chair. “Lounged” was probably a better word for his posture, since he looked slightly indolent. He wore black armor that resembled the Lampyrid’s chest plates, black and reflective, its surface etched with unfamiliar designs. His hair was dark and close-cropped, and he had sharp green eyes. A circlet of iron rested on his head. It was so thin, it almost looked like braided wire, black and tipped with silver.

He rose from his chair. “Lucian. Well met.”

“Well met, my lord.” Lucian inclined his head.

Lord Nightingale walked over to where he was standing, and kissed him lightly on both cheeks. Lucian returned the kiss. Then he turned to me.

“You must be Tess.” He extended his hand. “Welcome to my court.”

I remembered what Lucian had said about touching Lord Nightingale. I wasn’t sure if he wanted me to kiss his hand, or just shake it.

“Nice to meet you,” I said.

I reached out and brushed his fingers, just for a second. I didn’t feel anything. His touch was surprisingly warm, and his pale skin was soft. I drew my hand away.

“You’re here about Luiz,” Nightingale said. “So sad. His death was a great loss to the Dark Parliament.”

“We’re a bit baffled by his death, actually,” I admitted. “We don’t know what killed him, or why he died wearing a suit of armor.”

“The armor was stolen. From my private collection.” Lord Nightingale shook his head. “Sad, really.

Ordeño was probably going to sell it offworld.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because he was an addict.” His eyes seemed to flash purple for a second. Then they were green again.

“Trinovantum has a number of hallucinogenic substances to offer, and Ordeño sampled nearly all of them. He owed a tremendous drug debt. We had to parcel off his entire estate in order to pay it.”

Lucian touched my arm. I couldn’t tell if the gesture was protective, or possessive. But it felt reassuring all the same. “We found something of his in the Night Market,” he said. “A Polybius Book.”

I noticed that he didn’t say “half of a Polybius Book.” Lord Nightingale smiled. “Yes. They’re pretty, aren’t they? I imagine someone will pay top dollar for it.”

“We spoke to a merchant,” Lucian continued, “and he claims to have gotten the book from one of your Thanatars.”

“Why would a Thanatar deal with a merchant?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping you might have some idea.”

Lord Nightingale chuckled. “I’m afraid I don’t have a clue, Lucian. I didn’t personally oversee the dissolution of Ordeño’s estate.”

“You certainly liquidated it quickly enough.”

“Lucian. I know that Luiz was one of your favorite teachers. But you understand how these things go. Business is business.”

“He served the Dark Parliament for centuries.”

“Yes. And now he’s dead. Permanently.” Lord Nightingale returned to his chair, looking slightly annoyed.

“There’s no sense in having a funeral. This whole city is already a graveyard. Ordeño is dead, and his seat at the table needs to be filled. For the moment, that’s my only concern. Continuity.”

“Actually—” I cleared my throat. “Speaking of continuity, the merchant that we talked to said something else about your Thanatar. He was told that Ordeño died a week ago. But that’s not true.

All of our tests confirmed that he died less than a week ago.”

His eyes hardened. “I’m not sure I see your point.”

“It’s just confusing. Why would he sell the merchant something that belonged to a member of the Dark Parliament—a respected civil servant—and then lie about when he actually died?”

“I have no idea.”

“Maybe Ordeño was as good as dead already.”

He leaned forward. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that he could have been targeted for assassination.”

Lord Nightingale smiled. “Assassinations aren’t carried out unless I approve them, Miss Corday.

Luiz Ordeño may have been murdered, but he was murdered in your world—not in ours. The responsibility, therefore, falls to you.”

“But people can move between the worlds. It’s just as likely that someone from your court did the deed, then returned seeking asylum.”

“That sounds quite circumstantial.”

“So does your claim about Ordeño’s drug debts.”

“Excuse me?”

“Tess—” Lucian warned.

But I was already on a roll. “Do you have any receipts? Where are these druglords that he owed money to? How do we know that his estate wasn’t liquidated in order to erase his presence from the city?”

“I’m telling you that it wasn’t. That should be enough.” His voice had a dangerous note to it. A smart person would have definitely heeded that warning. But I could be a slow learner sometimes.

“I’m not convinced about the armor, either. Why would he steal it? And why was he wearing it at the moment of his death? What was it supposed to protect him from?”

“I can’t imagine what his motives were. And I hardly care.

As I said before, the matter is now beyond our jurisdiction.”

“Ordeño was a political activist. He must have had enemies in the court. Maybe he was running for his life.”

“Perhaps. But why does any of that matter now? He’s dust.”

“But his legacy isn’t.”

“How do you mean?”

“I believe,” Lucian interjected, “that Tess is talking about Ordeño’s work as a litigator. He did have a fairly influential role in designing the latest treaty.”

“Yes. And now his duties have been taken over by another member of the Parliament. The treaty will go ahead as planned.”

I didn’t believe that for a second.

“Who’s finishing Ordeño’s work?” Lucian asked.

“That’s not important.”

“But I’d like to know.”

“I think you’ve shared enough already with Miss Corday.” Lord Nightingale stood up. “I’m sure she’s a lovely person, but she’s also an offworlder. We can’t discuss politics in front of her.”

“Politics seem to be what got Ordeño killed. I’m only trying to figure out why, so that my agency can see that justice is done.”

“That’s interesting. I’ve never heard one of your people talk about justice before.” His green eyes surveyed me with the calm of a superior animal. “You deal in chemicals, computer programs, and mathematical formulae. You think you can analyze and deduce what causes a murder. But it’s not that simple.”

“Of course it isn’t. We know that.”

“Do you?” He shook his head. “Magic doesn’t sit inside of a computer. It doesn’t reside in powders or chemistry, and it can’t be read with a laser. Magic is what holds the universe together. And no matter how closely you study it, you’re never going to be able to record enough data to understand its purpose, or its will.”

“That’s why we don’t look for intentionality. We focus on evidence.”

“But you used the word ‘justice.’ ” He smiled. “Maybe you think justice is at the heart of magic.

Like a soul. But it’s just as likely that what you call ‘materia,’ what you try to control, is actually just a wild animal. Ancient, amoral, and unstoppable.”

I swallowed. “I think materia is about as complicated as the rest of the universe. That’s why we have to focus on physical evidence.”

“But you have no evidence in this case. Isn’t that the problem?”

“We have the armor. And a name.”

Lucian looked at me strangely. “What name?” “Indeed. What name? Tell me.”

“El alquimista,” I said.

Lord Nightingale laughed. “A fairy tale?”

“Isn’t that all your city is?”

His smile turned to a scowl. “Are you finished, Miss Corday?”

“Almost. I just have one more question.”

“What’s that?”

“Why did you send one of your Thanatars to attack me?”

His eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

“I’ve got the cracked ribs to prove it.”

“Why would I send someone offworld to attack you? You’re nothing to me. You barely even exist.”

“Maybe so. But someone in your Dark Parliament has a broken Vorpal gauntlet. And I’m going to find out who.”

“Very well. Keep searching. But this audience is over.”

“Actually—” Lucian grimaced slightly. “We need to ask a favor first.”

Lord Nightingale rolled his eyes. “Oh, by all means.”

“We need a container to transport something offworld.”

“Let me guess. The Polybius Book?”

Lucian nodded.

“Fine. If it gets you away from here, so much the better.” He held out his hand. A latticework of ru-by light flowed to life above his palm, taking the shape of a glowing red cube. He handed it to Lucian. “This reliquary will keep the book alive for a few days, but after that, it will vanish unless you return it to the city.”

Lucian took the cube. “Thank you for indulging us.” “Yeah, thanks.” I smiled. “It’s been fun.”

After the door to the courtyard closed behind us, I turned to Lucian.

“I know you want to yell at me, but I actually think that went really well. He’s obviously lying.”

“Of course he is. Everyone lies here. About everything.”

“But you saw his face when I mentioned the Vorpal gauntlet. He definitely sent that guy after me.”

Lucian sighed. “It’s starting to seem more and more likely.”

“So you believe me.”

“I always believed you. I just had to be sure that I wasn’t crazy.”

“Or that I wasn’t crazy.”

“No.” He smiled. “I already knew that.”

“Thanks.”

“Now that you’ve offended my monarch, are you ready for the Nightmares?”