The sergeant-at-arms marched over to the door, yanked it open, prepared to berate whoever was outside—but instead took a step back.

Roland lurched into the room. He was dressed for the road in a battered gray coat and a hat pulled down over his face: His expression was deadily. Miriam had another surprise coming: Brill was right behind him. “Permission to approach the Dean of Security?” he rasped.

“Approach,” Angbard called. “And explain yourself. Assuming the news is fit for public hearing.”

Roland glanced round the room. “Don’t see why not.” He passed Miriam without any indication that he’d seen her. “Big problem,” he announced tersely, and Miriam swallowed her anger as she realized he was exhausted and out of breath, walking painfully, as if his clothes chafed.

“We’ve been betrayed. Fort Lofstrom is cut off, here and on the other side. What’s worse is, they’ve got the February shipment from Panama sitting in Boston along with the post, and someone has told the Feds—there’s a DEA stakeout in progress.” He nodded at Angbard. “Looks like our traitor has identified himself. Bad news is, he got away and he’s decided to take down the entire Massachusetts end. I only just got out by the skin of my teeth. We’ve got nine outer family members trapped on the other side with a SWAT team on their doorstep. To make matters worse, there are booby traps in Fort Lofstrom—at least one bomb. We lost Poul, Poul of Hjalmar. He walked into a claymore mine.”

“Order! Order!” Angbard leaned down and stared at Roland. “Let’s get this straight. Fort Lofstrom on this side has been barred to us. On the other side, its doppelgänger is under siege. There is a huge consignment sitting over there, and family members who lack the talent to extricate themselves. Is that broadly correct?”

“Yeah.” Roland slumped against the table. “I world-walked into the Fort. Blood all over the walls of the post room. Sullivan got me a horse and, and I rode over to a place Miriam told me about. Used the spare locket she gave me, the one she took from the enemy.” The room was in uproar, half the Clan on their feet. “Lady Brilliana got me on a train in the new world, from Boston to New London. That’s how I got here so fast. The shit hit the fan yesterday. By now, we’re either looking at a pile of rubble on the other side with our people trapped under it and the FBI digging toward them, or something worse.” He rubbed his head carefully, as if unsure whether it was still there. “I had to make three crossings in the past twelve hours.”

“Security summit, clear the room!” called the sergeant-at-arms. “By your leave, sir,” he told Julius apologetically.

“Can we get in from the far side? From New Britain?” asked Miriam.

Angbard stared at her. “You know more about that than we would, I think,” he said. “Your opinion?”

“Hmm.” Miriam thought for a moment. “You’re sure it was Matthias?” she asked Roland.

Roland nodded wordlessly. “Sir?” He looked up at Angbard, tiredly.

“Yes,” Angbard said darkly. “I’ve been keeping an eye on him. I’ve had my suspicions for a while now.” He paused, looking as if he’d tasted something unpleasant. “Obviously I haven’t been watching him closely enough. That’s not a mistake I’m going to repeat.” He glanced at Miriam. “Do you have anything to add?” he demanded.

“I don’t know, but I don’t believe in coincidences, and the way the hidden families kept going after me—” she glanced at Baron Hjorth, who stared back at her for a moment, then looked away. “I think it’s clear who he was in the pay of.” She shrugged. “It doesn’t change my position. I think you should release Lin, send the kid home with a message offering a cease-fire. If they accept, it means your Keeper of the Secrets is cut off with no retreat and no friends. If they refuse, we’re no worse off. It might make them think we’re weak, but that can only be an advantage right now.”

“I’ll think about it,” Angbard said coolly. “But right now it’s not a priority. What would you suggest doing about Boston? If you have any ideas, that is.”

“Uh.” She paused. “Two or three crossings a day: If we do more we’ll be in no condition for anything, and this needs to be fixed quick. I think we’ll have to cross over to New London, won’t we? If Olga and I and a bunch of others go, it’ll take us a bit longer to get to Boston by steam train, but from there it’s one hop into Fort Lofstrom by the back door. Faster than going by stagecoach, anyway. We’ll have to carry some extras, who’ll need to go over into the basement under siege and pull in our people before the FBI and DEA dig through to them. Think that would work?”

“I think it’s our only chance.” Roland looked worried. He seemed to be avoiding eye contact with her.

“Do it,” said Iris, unexpectedly. “It’s your future.” She met Miriam’s gaze. “I’ll be alright.”

“I know you will.” Miriam walked toward her. “Please be here when I get back,” she said. “We’ve got a lot of talking to do.”

Brill cleared her throat. “I’m coming,” she said calmly.

“You can’t—oh.” Miriam turned back to Angbard. “She can come.”

“She’ll have to. How many copies of the lost family’s sign have you got?”

“More than you thought, bro,” Iris butted in. She reached into a pocket and pulled out a battered-looking locket. “I took this off the one who killed my husband and maid and tried to cut your throat,” she told Miriam. She grinned, hu-morlessly. “It never occurred to me to look inside it until you tipped me off. Not that I’m in any condition to use it.”

“Ah. Then we’ve got—” Miriam did a quick stock-take. Hers, Brill’s, Olga’s, the one she’d given Roland, now this one. Plus the smudged and fading temporary tattoos she and Olga wore. “Only five reliable ones. Any more?”

Iris snorted. “Here.” She pulled out a bunch of glossy photographs. “What the hell did you think Polaroid cameras were invented for?” Miriam gaped. “Close your mouth, kid, you’ll catch a fly,” Iris added.

“Get some muscle,” Miriam told Roland. “Ones who can world-walk with us. We’ll need guns and medicine. And clothing that can pass at a distance in New London or on the train—” She paused. “And a plan of the Fort Lofstrom dop-pelganger, and a compass and map of the area. We can pick one up in New London and find where its doppelgänger location is, and then someone to get us in—” another pause. “Why are you all looking at me like that?” she asked.

Another day, another first-class compartment—this one crammed with seven bodies, plus another seven in the compartment behind them—with the window open to let the heat out. “How conspicuous are we going to be?” asked the guy with the toothbrush moustache.

“Just as long as you don’t stop, Morgan,” said Miriam. “Your suit’s all wrong, your coat isn’t a fashion item, and—hell, your hat isn’t right either. They’ll probably take you for a foreigner.” The train clattered over points as it began to slow.

“She’s not kidding,” said Brill. “It’s not like Boston at all, under the surface.”

“Be over soon,” said Roland, staring out the window at the passing countryside. “It all looks like something out of a history book—”

“May you live in interesting times,” muttered Olga, raising a startled glance from Brill.

“Miriam’s been corrupting you.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Ladies, ladies!” They turned and glared as one at Roland. “Is this our stop?” he asked plaintively. He looked decidedly off-color. Miriam decided to forgive him—her own headache wasn’t getting any better, and four trips in thirty-six hours was more than anyone should ever have to make, even with beta blockers and pain killers.

“Not yet.” Miriam refolded the map she’d bought at the station near where Niejwein would be in this world.

“Let me see that.” Ivor, short and squat, leaned over. “Ah.” A stubby finger followed the line into town. “This is Cambridgeport, in Cambridge. The Fort was built on a bluff overlooking the river almost exactly here. That’s—”