“I could ask him about it,” Karigan said on inspiration. “He knows me.”

The professor gripped the back of his chair to steady himself. “My dear, that would be suicide! Whatever you once knew of the man he was, he is not as he was. He does not negotiate, and past acquaintances are little safer in his presence than opponents. His temper is mercurial. Besides, he is not due to awaken for another three years.”

“Awaken?”

“Every ten years. I am not sure he actually sleeps, mind you, but he is at least sequestered during that time.”

“Then who is ruling the empire?”

“His inner circle of Adherents, at his sufferance. They take care of the day-to-day running of the empire. When the emperor rises, that’s when they receive his instructions, and he reviews what has happened during his sleep.” The professor shuddered. “We never look forward to the emperor’s rising.”

“Why?”

“That is when he makes a point of reminding his subjects of his authority. Examples are made to the populace—the streets run with blood. Criminals, dissidents, and innocents alike are purged.”

Karigan frowned. That didn’t sound like Amberhill, but she had not known him well. She suddenly felt very tired, the phosphorene lamps seemed barely able to hold the suffocating dark of night at bay. She watched as dust settled in the streams of light. She thought once again about why she’d been brought here, why the god of death had seen fit to intervene, and she couldn’t help but still believe that whatever had become of Sacoridia, and Amberhill’s involvement, was beneath Westrion’s notice. She’d been brought here for some other cause that had not yet been revealed to her.

Regardless of the death god’s plans for her, she knew that if she was able to find a way home to her own time, she would do whatever it took to stop Amberhill, to stop him from using his weapons, whatever they were, to conquer Sacoridia. She could not allow him to destroy everything—and everyone—she loved.

The professor stepped around his chair and sat with a creak. They gazed at one another, mirroring grim expressions.

“I have opposed the emperor in my own small way for most of my adult years,” the professor said, “but never have I felt such hope as when I came to believe that you are what you say you are. By whatever the miracle wrought by this looking mask of yours, or the old gods, that brought you to me, it is like a sign, and now that you say you knew the emperor when he was just a mortal man, I can only feel that the time has come.”

“For what?”

“To resist in earnest. It is time. And you shall help.”

Karigan shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She had not wanted to become involved in this world’s problems. Her duty was to get home with information. “How?”

“There must be things you know about the castle complex, its grounds. How it was all laid out.”

“Yes,” she said cautiously.

The professor leaned forward, now eager. “Earlier today on the outing you asked about Silk’s excavation. What he’s up to. Well, I’ll tell you. He plans to excavate the castle to its very foundations.”

Karigan stilled. A prickling ran up her arms.

“He will make some pretense at finding artifacts along the way, but I believe I know what he is truly after.”

“And that is?”

The professor slowly grinned beneath his mustache. It was a feral grin. “He seeks objects of an arcane nature, of course, in the very lowest regions of the castle. One in particular.”

Lowest regions of the castle. Karigan’s frown deepened.

“It is said,” the professor continued, “that there were arcane devices, magical objects, stored in the royal tombs. Would you know anything about this?”

Karigan kept still. Tried to keep her expression neutral. “No, not really,” she lied. She still felt that need, that desire, that obligation to protect that which one did not openly discuss in her own time. “One hears the occasional rumor. The tombs themselves aren’t talked about. I suppose the king’s Weapons don’t want to deal with thieves trying to break in to steal valuables.” It sounded like a plausible answer to her, and not that far from the truth. She just didn’t admit how much she really knew and that she’d actually been in the tombs.

The professor stroked his mustache as if deciding how much to say and question. “There is a very good chance the tombs survived the destruction of the castle,” he said, “considering how deep beneath the ground they were placed. The only entrance we know of was through the royal chapel.”

Karigan nodded. “That is what I’ve heard.” She did not tell him she’d actually been through those doors.

“Have you ever heard of there being other entrances?”

Karigan paused, pretending to consider the question, then shook her head, unwilling to divulge such secrets. The professor looked disappointed.

“What is this arcane object Silk is after?”

The professor did not answer for they both started at a thudding sound echoing from somewhere deep in the mill building.

“I was not expecting Cade this evening,” the professor said tersely, and he slipped over to his desk and opened a drawer. From it he withdrew a gun weapon. Karigan shook her walking cane to staff length. In unspoken assent, they moved stealthily, but swiftly, across the floor to the entrance where they paused and listened. Footsteps clanged on the wrought iron steps as their intruder climbed.