At all costs, the letter closed, this young lady must never learn from you or any Seeker her true nature. For it is the purpose of this study to determine if one of otherwordly nature, who is unaware of this fact about herself, will—through her ownvolition, intuition, and power— come to learn of her unique her itage, or if she can be content to live as any other denizen of this Earth, with no knowledge of her inherent strangeness.

I drew a breath to steady myself, then tucked the letter into my coat and stood up from the bench.

“Be careful, Marius.”

I turned as Rebecca descended several stone steps, into the courtyard. Her gown was a gray so dark it was nearly black; she looked like a mourner, headed to church to weep for one lost.

“Rebecca,” I said, and left it there, for I could think of nothing to say to her. The words of the letter burned in my brain, as if writ there with fire.

She moved under the canopy of the wisteria; the mist had turned to rain. “An assignment from the Philosophers should not be taken lightly. You are no journeyman now. A master may be placed at far more risk. There is peril before you.”

“What risk is there in watching a young lady, Rebecca?”

“I’m not certain.” Her lips formed a sharp smile. “No, Marius, I don’t know all that is contained in that letter—only what the Philosophers relayed to me themselves, and that is little. I have no particular reason to worry for your safety. But guard yourself all the same.”

There was genuine concern in her eyes. However, I was too excited to listen to her words. There was a person in this city with true otherworldly connections, and I was going to observe her. Perhaps, as she discovered her own heritage, I would learn as well—learn things that would help me find a way to another world. For by then I had already determined that I was going to be the first to accomplish what the Seekers had set out to do: to journey to a world other than this Earth. Master Albrecht had warned me not to trust these people, but I knew how I could be certain they would never rule me; I would rule them instead. I was going to be the greatest Seeker the order had ever known.

“Good-bye, Rebecca,” I said, and hurried from the courtyard.

I began my work that afternoon, examining public records and making inquires about the city—though I was never too direct in my questioning, so as not to draw attention. With little effort I learned that the Faradays were an old, wealthy, and respectable family, if not particularly remarkable in London society. They dwelled in a fine but not opulent house a half mile beyond Nottingham Hall, and less than two miles from the Houses of Parliament. There the current Lord Faraday, William, sat in the House of Lords, the third in his line to do so.

Lady Beatrice Faraday had been born to a less wealthy, but still well-regarded, family from York. Young Lady Alis, who was in her twenty-third year, was their only daughter, and was rumored to be quite beautiful, as Rebecca had said, though it seemed she was seldom seen outside the family’s home.

That was going to make things difficult. How was I to observe her if she never left her home? As I sat in a tavern that night, letting the ale I had ordered languish, I unfolded the letter from the Philosophers. However, despite much rereading, the letter contained no more clues, and I was not going to go to the Philosophers to beg for help on my first assignment as a master.

With nothing else I could do, I rose the next morning and put on my finest clothes, gathering my blond hair into a ribbon in the current fashion so that I might pass for one of London’s many fine young lords. Of course, that would not be a complete fraud, for I wasa lord. Madstone Hall was mine, though I thought of it seldom, and while I had not been born a noble, by Master Albrecht’s dying hand I had been made one, and in truth the look suited me.

I hired the finest stallion I could find, though the beast was nothing compared to my old horse Hermes, and rode out past Whitehall, trading the gray air of the city for sun and blue sky.

After asking directions of a band of workmen, I found my way to the Faraday estate, which lay down a lane bordered by tall hedgerows. It was not so grand as Madstone Hall, being rather squat and square in the Tudor style, but it looked comfortable, nestled between a grove of ash and beech on one side and a pond on the other.

I dismounted and approached the iron gate, which was closed, refining my story in my head: how I was a young lord from Scotland visiting family in London, and while out riding I had lost my way, and so required directions for the way back to Whitehall. I hoped the steward of the house would be polite enough to invite me in for a refreshment, and I would gain a glimpse, perhaps in a portrait, of young Lady Alis. I reached up to ring the bell hanging on the gate.

“Good day, my lord.”

I nearly leaped out of my boots. Seldom could a person come upon me unawares, but so intent had I been on my plan that I had not heard as someone approached me from behind. I turned on a heel, and at once my apprehension vanished. It was simply an old woman, clad in a servant’s frock. There was nothing remarkable about her, save that her green eyes were bright and her wrinkled cheeks as red as apples.

“Is there something I can do for you, my lord?” She drew closer, holding a covered basket.

I gave her a simplified version of my story; there was no need to explain myself to a servant. She nodded, listening to my tale, then smiled.

“I can give you directions back to Whitehall easily enough, my lord.”

A coldness descended in my chest. This would not do. I needed to gain entrance to the manor, in hopes of seeing a painting of Alis Faraday. I had to know what she looked like. Before I could speak, she went on.

“But are you certain it is not directions to Westminster Abbey you would rather have, my lord?”

“Westminster Abbey?” I said. “Why should I ride there?”

“Why, to gain a look at young Lady Alis, of course.”

I felt my face blanch, and a sickness filled me. How could this old woman know of my true purpose there? It seemed impossible, but if she did, then I was already ruined.

She clucked her tongue. “Now there, my lord, no need to fear. You’re hardly the first young man who’s ridden to the gate hoping for a glimpse of Lord Faraday’s daughter. Surely you didn’t dress so finely simply for a ride in the country! But you’ll not find Lady Alis here this morning.”

What a fool I was. Of course this old woman knew nothing of my purpose there. She had simply assumed, and not so far from the truth. However, I saw no reason to correct her.

“And where might one find Lady Alis on a morning such as this?”

“I’ve already told you, my lord, and more than I should have. But I daresay you have a different look about you than the other young men who come to call.” Her green eyes grew sharp. “Quite different indeed.”

I had no notion what her words meant, but I realized the woman had indeed told me where to go.

“How shall I know her?”

The old servingwoman laughed. “A beautiful young noble-woman should not be difficult to pick out from the crowd, my lord. Then again, one cannot always trust one’s eyes.” She opened the gate a fraction, slipped through, and shut it behind her.

“Please,” I said, gripping the bars, not knowing what else to say.

Again the old woman’s gaze grew sharp, and after a moment she nodded. “She favors the sun in the Cloisters.”

It was midday when I reached Westminster Abbey.

I straightened my coat as I passed through the western doors, into the long hall of the nave. Columns soared to the arched ceiling high above, and despite the urgency of my quest I was forced to pause and gaze upward. It is the purpose of grand churches to inspire awe, to make one believe there is something beyond the world of men.