Tam stood silent and defiant. He was determined not to show any sign of his trepidation as he and Mr. Jerome faced the long table, their hands clenched behind their backs as if standing at attention.

Behind the table of highly polished oak sat the Panoply. These were the most senior and powerful members of the Styx Council. At either end of the table sat a few high-ranking Colonists: representatives from the Board of the Governors, men that Mr. Jerome had known all his life, men that were his friends. He quaked with shame as he felt the disgrace wash over him, and he couldn't bring himself to look at them. He'd never thought it would come to this.

Tam was less intimidated; he'd been carpeted before and always managed to get off by the skin of his teeth. Although these allegations were serious, he knew his alibi had passed their scrutiny. Imago and his men had made sure of that. Tam watched as the Crawfly conferred with a fellow Styx and then leaned back to speak to the Styx child who stood half hidden behind the high back of his chair.l Now that was irregular. Their children were usually kept well out of sight and far away from the Colony; the newborn were never seen, while the older offspring, it was said, were closeted away with their with their masters in the rarefied atmosphere of the private schools. He'd never heard of them accompanying their elders in public, let alone being present at meetings such as these.

Tam's thoughts were interrupted as a scratchy outburst of intense debate ran back and forth through the Panoply. Whispers rippled from one end to the other as skinny hands communicated in a series of harsh gestures. Tam glanced quickly at Mr. Jerome, whose head hung low. He was quietly mumbling a prayer as sweat coursed from his temples. His face was puffy and his skin an unhealthy pink. All this was taking its toll on him.

The commotion abruptly ceased amid nods and staccato words of agreement, and the Styx settled back in their seats, a chilling silence descending over the room. Tam readied himself. A pronouncement was about to be delivered.

"Mr. Jerome," the Styx to the left of the Crawfly intoned. "After due consideration and a full and proper investigation" — he fixed his beady pupils on the quivering man — "we will allow you to step down."

Another Styx promptly took over. "It is felt that the injustices brought upon you from specific of your family members, past and present, are unjust and unfortunate. Your honesty is not in question, and your reputation has not been tarnished. Unless you would like to speak for the record, you are unconditionally discharged."

Mr. Jerome bowed dolefully and backed away from the table. Tam heard his boots scuffing on the flagstones but dared not turn to watch him leave. Instead his gaze flickered to the ceiling of the stone hall, then to the ancient wall hangings behind the Panoply, alighting on one depicting the Founding Fathers digging a perfectly round tunnel in the side of a verdant hill.

He knew that all eyes now rested on him.

Another Styx spoke. Tam immediately recognized the Crawfly's voice and was obliged to face his avowed enemy. He's loving every minute of this, Tam thought.

"Macaulay. You are a different kettle of fish. Though not yet proven, we believe that you did aid and abet your nephews, Seth and Caleb Jerome, in their foiled attempt to liberate the Topsoiler Chester Rawls and then to escape to the Eternal City," said the Crawfly with evident relish.

A second Styx continued. "The Panoply has recorded your plea of not guilty and your continuing protestations." With a single disapproving shake of his head he fell silent for a moment. "We have reviewed the evidence submitted in your defense, but at this time we are unable to reach a resolution. Accordingly we have decreed that the investigation will remain open, and that you are to be held on remand and your privileges revoked until further notice. Do you understand?"

Tam nodded somberly.

"We said, do you understand?" snapped the Styx child, stepping forward.

An evil grin flicked across Rebecca's face as her icy glare drilled into Tam. There was a stir of hushed astonishment from the Colonists that the minor child had dared to speak, but not the smallest indication from the Styx that anything out of the ordinary had taken place.

To say Tam was staggered would be a rank understatement. Was he really supposed to respond to this mere child? When he didn't answer right away, she repeated the question, her hard little voice as sharp as a whip crack.

"WE SAID, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

"I do, Tam muttered, "only too well."

Of course, it wasn't a final ruling by any means, but it meant he would live in limbo until they decided either that he was cleared or… well… the alternative was too horrifying to think about.

As a surly Colonist officer escorted him away, Tam couldn't help but notice the smarmy look of self-congratulation that passed between Rebecca and the Crawfly.

Will, I'll be blowed! Tam thought. It's his daughter!

Aroused from his sleep by the booming sound of the television, Will sat up in the armchair with a start. He automatically groped for the remote control and clicked down the volume a couple of notches; it was only when he looked around that he fully realized where he was and remembered how he'd gotten there. He was home, and in a room he knew so well. Although he was surrounded by uncertainty about what he was going to do next, for the first time in a long time he felt that he had a measure of control over his destiny, and it felt good.

He flexed his stiff limbs and took several deep breaths, coughing sharply. Despite the fact that he was ravenous, he felt a little better than he had the day before; the sleep had done him some good. He scratched, then tugged vaguely at his matted hair, its usual whiteness discolored with dirt. Clambering out of the chair, he stumbled over to the curtains and parted them a couple of inches to let the morning sun into the room. Real light. It was such a welcome sight that he pulled them wider.

"Too bright!" Cal screeched repeatedly, burying his face in a cushion. Bartleby, roused by Cal 's cries, flicked his eyes open. He immediately shied away from the glare, his long legs propelling him backward until he tumbled off the rear of the sofa. There he remained, hiding from the light and making noises somewhere between hisses and low meows.

"Oh, yikes, I'm sorry," Will stuttered, kicking himself as he hurriedly yanked the curtains shut again. "I completely forgot."

He helped his brother into a sitting position. He was moaning quietly behind the cushion, and Will could see that it was already soaked with tears. He wondered if Cal's and Bartleby's eyes would ever adjust to natural light. It was just one more problem Will had to contend with.

"That was so stupid of me," he said helplessly. "I'll… um… I'll find some sunglasses for you."

He began to search through a chest of drawers in his parents' room, only to find that it had been emptied. As he was checking the last drawer, he picked out a little bag of lavender languishing on the cheap Christmas gift wrap that his mother had used as a paper liner and held it up to catch the familiar scent. He closed his eyes as the smell conjured up a vivid picture of her. Wherever they'd sent her to recuperate, she'd be lording it over the other patients by now. He was willing to bet she'd commandeered the best chair in the television room and had cajoled someone into bringing her regular cups of tea. He smiled. In a way, she was probably happier now than she'd been for years. And maybe a little safer, too, if the Styx decided to pay a visit.

For no reason in particular, as he rummaged through a bedside cupboard, he thought of his real mother. He wondered where she was right at that very moment, if indeed she was still alive at all. The only person in the long history of the Colony ever to evade the Styx and survive. He set his jaw with a determined look as he caught his reflection in a mirror. Well, now there were going to be two more Jeromes with that distinction.