The watchmen escorted them not unkindly, but firmly, back down the hill. They were led through the rows of tents, which Dalliance now saw were filled with armored men—whether they were soldiers or something else, he lacked the frame of reference to say. Effluvia, white-faced and silent, was clearly too horrified to explain why she was horrified, or perhaps, too concerned about being overheard.

  Their guide was a man of few words. "You are out of balance," he told them, his tone heavy with a strange regret. "For knowledge to have value, it cannot be universal. You have become tainted with the secrets of someone else. But Gnosis will reveal your fate; it is not for handmaidens or men to decide. You have heard his voice once, and you will hear it again in the morning."

  The man seemed genuinely upset by his duty. "Until then, with my greatest regrets, you’ll have to make do with these accommodations." He locked the five of them into a small, six-by-ten-foot cell and left.

  "We are going to die," Effluvia said, her voice a flat, dead thing. The ringing in their ears from the god’s capitalized voice had faded, leaving a grim silence. "They can't afford for me to get out and tell others about them. And even if they don't know who I am, general practice will lead them to the same conclusion. How else would they have stayed unnoticed?"

  On this sobering thought, they waited. Of course, with Earnest and Dalliance being who they were, it was not an entirely peaceful wait. Neither had ever taken imprisonment well, but there was only so much they could do. They were not strong enough to bend the bars. There was a lock, but it was set too far from the bars for anyone to reach.

  "We're trapped," Charity said, her voice hollow. "Unless one of us suddenly develops the ability to fly." She gestured with her chin toward the small hole in the ceiling, originally purposed for releasing smoke, now performing as a relief for the noxious gases emanating from a corner. It had, as far as they could tell, been put to use as an outhouse by more than a few individuals. Dalliance had already made the mistake of relieving himself. The resulting thin, brown slurry—dotted with white powder and floating bits of yellow and green—was sufficient to convince him to hold it until he died.

  "I cannot believe—" Charity began, incensed.

  "Your nose?" Earnest interjected dryly. "Better get used to it. We’re all going to have to do that at one point or another."

  Her tone was horrified. His was matter-of-fact. "Miss Wimple sure did make some good lemonade, didn't she?" he mused. "But everything's equally bad on the way out. We're all about to have to live with it. I hope you meant what you said about us being a conspiracy."

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  "Council," corrected Dalliance.

  "Whatever," Earnest said. "Because we are about to be closer than we ever intended."

  Effluvia shot him a look of contemptuous disgust.

  "Oh, no," he said, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Did the toad lust after the swan's flesh? Grow up. We're all going to turn our backs, and we're all going to smell your stench, and you're going to smell ours with your back turned, like the lady you were bred to be."

  Dalliance sensed he was getting too into his role. "Earnest, she's actually freaked out."

  His friend had the grace to look abashed. "Sorry," he said. "There was this really macho legionnaire in one of my books, and I think I went too far."

  Circe golf-clapped, a single, sarcastic sound. "You should hear what Mom has to say on the topic," she said. "'Oh no, you had to drop your drawers? Not like I haven’t seen your bits and bobs before, and not like you've got anything special under there anyway. You've seen one lad or lady, you've seen them all'." She held up her hands. "I haven't seen them all," she clarified quickly. "It's just what Mom says."

  "We've got to get out of here," Charity said blankly. "Could your lightning do anything?" she asked, turning to Effluvia.

  Effluvia shook her head. "These bars will ground me out. I could heat them up, maybe enough to fry an egg, but I’m not going to be able to melt them, if that's what you mean." She then turned to Dalliance. "How about you?"

  He gave her a flat look, his face conflicted. Even in circumstances like this, he didn't want to tell them.

  "Fine," Charity said. She dug into her shirt, revealing a silver amulet. She held it out in one hand, reaching for his with the other. "Clasp hands, people," she demanded.

  They did.

  "Firth, Lord of the Watergate, first judge of the living and the dead until the Pale Queen stirs once more," Charity intoned, her voice taking on a formal, liturgical cadence. "Grant us your honesty, for we are true and devoted. Let no lie or truth, but which would please this circle, escape it. And let our souls stand surety."

  This time, it wasn't subtle at all. The gaze of something vast, merciless, implacable, and interested pressed down on them, forcing them all to the floor. The feeling passed after an eternity.

  "There," Charity said, her voice ragged. "We cannot betray one another, upon pain of death. Now tell us your stupid secret. We need to figure out how to get out of here."

  "Well, okay," he said, his own voice barely a whisper. "I can see the future."