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it in Taintwell before.”
    Nervous and preoccupied, Mrs. Rumpiton glanced over her shoulder. She held her hands in front of her skirts and kept rubbing one over the other. “He provides a unique service. And I… I thought I’d try it out. I must do something about Ulney. He’s been abusing his powers. He has a wild streak, you know. A Nittyville woman who buys rugs from me said, ‘Hire the Spiritmaster if he comes through. He’s a godly man. He’ll know what to do.’”
    Will hadn’t lived in Taintwell long enough to be familiar with every resident’s situation, so he had to dig around in his memory to make sense of these confidences. Yes, Mrs. Rumpiton wove rags into rugs and had customers throughout the province. Her husband liked his drink but wasn’t a drunk. Her son was in his teens. Was Ulney the husband or son? That, Will couldn’t remember. Nor could he recall what Ulney’s powers were. Was he the one who could summon and direct insects?
    “What’s that man’s name?” Will asked. “Where does he come from?”
    “I don’t know,” said Mrs. Rumpiton. “He was going to give me his card, but I didn’t want Ulney or Daggit seeing it. His name doesn’t matter, though, does it? What matters is whether his methods are effective.”
    “I hope you achieve the result you desire.” Will had no idea what he meant, but there was little else he could say without sounding nosy.
    Mrs. Rumpiton again looked toward the wagon when she saw Will’s gaze shift in its direction. “Oh my,” she whispered, lightly laying a hand on his sleeve. “What could Mr. Fober want with the Spiritmaster?”
    Will was wondering the same thing. Jusem Fober was an inveterate womanizer who’d never shown any inclination to change his ways. Roughly a month ago, Will and Fan had heard at the Roundhouse tavern that some trouble was brewing due to Fober’s escapades. That normally didn’t happen. He was as stealthy as a fox, and scrupulously discreet. So perhaps he’d finally been scared into turning over a new leaf.
    “I must get home,” Mrs. Rumpiton said. “It was nice seeing you, Mr. Marchman. Please give my regards to the Eminence.”
    “I shall do that, Mrs. Rumpiton.”
    Will thought he should get home, too. He could hardly sit here all day, spying on his neighbors while feigning a mechanical breakdown. He’d invite suspicion if he dawdled much longer—and what reason, after all, did he have?
    Besides, Simon was waiting for him. Or at least waiting to hear from him.
    After flicking imaginary dirt from his jacket and brushing imaginary dirt from his hands, Will cast a final look at the gilded bulk of the Spiritorium. Jusem Fober had departed. The Spiritmaster stood beside his fancy wagon.
    Looking straight at Will.
    He made a beckoning motion. Will’s skin prickled and tightened. After a moment’s hesitation, he reluctantly let his legs propel him forward. Damn his damnable curiosity!
    “I want you to come clean with me,” the ghosty man said forthwith, bunching Will’s coat sleeve in his gnarled fist. The statement, spoken through clenched teeth, sounded like a threat. “So you’ll be clean. And your Out-dweller consort will be clean.” On each emphasized word, he gave Will’s arm a shake. “It is my mission to sweep through this once-hallowed ground and redeem it!”
    Aghast, Will tried to pull away from him, but the man wouldn’t release Will’s arm.
    From the corner of his eye, Will saw a figure racing in his direction. A tall, familiar figure, his rough jacket flying out behind him, his powerful strides measuring out long stretches of grass. Before Will could react—
    “Get away from him!” Fan roared, sounding fiercer than Will had ever heard him, sounding like a dragon defending its young, as he gripped the stranger’s shoulders and flung him aside.
    Or tried to.
    The Spiritmaster stumbled but didn’t fall, although he looked considerably older than Fan. Any other person would’ve landed on