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opened her eyes, intending to brush the ashes aside, then came fully out of her dream with a squeak.
    Ned stood over her with a dripping stewpot of something that he was apparently poised to upend onto her face.
    She rolled out from under whatever spell her brother had cast over her—grateful he hadn’t managed to do her in completely—and staggered to her feet only to find that she couldn’t see for the stars that suddenly swirled around her head. She felt for something solid, found her mother’s house, then leaned against it heavily.
    “Mistress Sarah, are you unwell?”
    She didn’t bother to answer. She felt as if she’d spent a solid se’nnight eating vile, rotted things only to have them strike her down all at once and leave her too ill to even begin to retch. She couldn’t do anything but hold her hand over her eyes and pray that the scenery around her would cease spinning sooner rather than later.
    She listened to Ned make little noises of distress for several minutes until she managed the question that concerned her most.
    “Where’s Dan?”
    “He took himself off toward the village awhiles back. Don’t know what he intended.”
    Sarah knew exactly what her brother intended, but she didn’t bother to enlighten Ned. The only question left was how soon it would take the villagers to round up torches and pitchforks so they could come fetch her. Better to be off sooner than later. She turned and felt her way into her house to fetch her gear—
    Only to walk into a marshy, reeking swamp of spells.
    She looked in horror at the inside of her mother’s house. Evil coming from under her brother’s door had already covered most of the floor, slithered up three out of four walls, and crawled up the curtain that covered the nook where she slept. The only thing still untouched was her weaving, but the spells were gathering there as well. She supposed it was just a matter of time before they managed to overcome their revulsion of something beautiful to smother it along with the rest.
    I am off to destroy the world.
    Daniel’s words came back to her with unpleasant clarity. She couldn’t imagine he had the power to do that, but she couldn’t deny that he’d certainly wreaked a fine bit of havoc in front of her. No doubt he’d been happy to add to that by stirring up trouble in the village. Perhaps the villagers were already on their way—
    She turned away from the doorway and walked into an immovable object. She jumped back with a shriek, then realized it was merely Lord Higgleton standing there, smiling. Before she could ask him his business, he had enveloped her hand in his beefy paws and begun to shake it vigorously.
    “I’m here to thankye, Mistress Sarah,” he said happily. “Already we’ve seen a great difference in the lass.”
    “Oh,” Sarah said, feeling light-headed all over again. “How lovely.”
    Lord Higgleton reached not for his rather substantial dagger tucked into his belt—it was Shettlestoune, after all, and even an alderman wasn’t above dispatching the odd vagrant or villain himself when necessary—but for his equally substantial purse. He opened it, fished about in it with a pudgy finger, then pulled the drawstrings shut. He handed the entire thing over with another smile.
    “I would have thanked your brother on your behalf,” he said, “but he seemed particularly determined to closet himself with the constable and I didn’t want to disturb. Mage’s business, as you well know, is always carried on more successfully without unnecessary distractions.”
    Heaven help her. “Indeed, it is,” she agreed. “And how long ago was it that you saw my brother about his goodly work?”
    Lord Higgleton looked thoughtfully up at the sky. “An hour, perhaps, no longer. Shall I hasten back to the village and have him fetched for you?”
    “Nay,” Sarah said, her mouth rather dry all of a sudden. “Nay, though I thank you for the thought. And I wish Prunella every success