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The sense of having met her before had been nagging at him for two days and had not loosened its grip. He knew her heart-shaped face, capped with those captivating curls. He knew her handwriting now too. He had the baffling and persistent certainty that their paths had crossed before the tournament, somewhere, sometime he could not locate.

He turned back to page two-hundred-and-fourteen and read her annotation once more.

There is no known remedy—except, of course, for all the known remedies.

He was still thinking about that when Will came through the wall.

“Festering ferns, Will!” Dan looked up. “You startled me.”

The porter looked terrible. Dark circles, hollow cheeks, a twitchy impatience that sat wrong on him. He looked like a man who had not slept in ages and did not expect to sleep any time soon.

“Is that my dear William, back from his travels?” Granny Luna flitted out from the back with a basket of blueberry scones, a pot of clotted cream and her uncanny timing. “I had a feeling we’d be seeing you this morning.”

“Not hungry, Granny.” Will’s voice came out flat. He sat down across from Dan and stared at the table.

Luna went still. In Dan’s experience, a still Luna was far more alarming than an agitated one. She set the basket and pot down without a word. After a moment she squeezed Will’s shoulder and excused herself.

Will said nothing. Dan waited.

“The mission didn’t go as planned,” Will said finally. “I can’t get into the details here. Zani’s downstairs in the Archives trying to sort some things out.” He picked up a scone and put it down again without eating it. “We came across some things near the end, before it all went south. An odd book. And these three huge clay tablets, all linked together. Super heavy. Each one had a figure on it.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Things started going wrong around the time we found them. Zani has her suspicions, but she wanted to do more research before saying.”

“What did those figures look like?” Granny Luna was table-side again in a flash.

Will glanced at Dan, then Granny. “Skeletal. All three of them. One was holding a short blade. One had a length of cord. The third one had some sort of navigation instrument. For reading the stars, maybe?”

Granny made a sound that was something like a stifled gasp. She pasted an unnatural smile on her face and waved one hand in front of her face.

“Sorry, sorry, boys, I think I must have swallowed something wrong,” she said. She performed a couple of coughs that were not convincing.

“What is it?” Will asked. “Spit it out, Granny.”

Granny Luna stared at Will for a long moment before she spoke.

“Leave it alone,” she said. “Whatever Zani thinks she’s found, whatever conclusions she’s drawing. Just leave it alone.”

“But if it has something to do with why the mission⁠—”

“Will.” Her voice was very quiet. “I am not asking you. Leave the tablets alone. Don’t touch them, don’t move them, don’t try to bring them back. Don’t go searching for them.” She held his gaze until he looked away. “There are forces in this world that have their own intentions and their own timetable, and they are not interested in yours. Whatever happened on that mission, it wasn’t an accident and it’s probably not yours to fix.”

“You know something,” Will said.

“I don’t know anything except to tell you to stay well clear.” She straightened. She picked up Will’s untouched scone and set it directly in his hand. She waited until he had taken a bite, then went back to the kitchen.

Will chewed slowly. He stared at his untouched tea.

“Does she boss you around like that too?” he asked.

“She sure tries,” Dan said.

They sat for a while without speaking. Will finished the scone and took a second. Some of the hollowness left his face. When he stood to go he looked a little bit steadier than when he’d arrived. He lifted a hand and stepped back through the wall.

The book was still open to page two-hundred-and-fourteen when Dan returned to it.

He turned the pages, not reading so much as following her handwriting through the book. She’d taken issue with him on three separate entries about maritime history. She’d added a footnote to his Silk Road entry that was, if he was honest, more interesting than the entry itself. Next to his passage on sailors’ lore, she had drawn a small and accurate illustration of a specific knot, and beneath it written: In case you’ve never seen how it’s done.

He hadn’t, as it happened. He had only ever read about it. He felt foolish in a way that was not entirely unpleasant.

He found the final entry at the back. He’d written it on a whim, at his editor’s suggestion, something upbeat to close on.