"Portia!"

I composed my face into one of absolute innocence, and placed two fingertips on the circular walls of the glass. Bettina did a few moments of communing with who knew what, swaying slightly, her eyelids fluttering in a suitably dramatic fashion.

"Spirits, entities, and loved ones who have passed on before us," she intoned, still doing the swaying and fluttering thing. "Heed our plea, and grace us now with your presence."

Milo's arm brushed mine. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. His lips were twitching. I fought hard to keep from grinning at him, and was mostly successful, but Sarah glared at me nonetheless.

"We beseech you who have gone beyond the beyond—"

I bit my lip hard, using the pain to distract me from the need to burst into unseemly laughter.

"—share with us your knowledge and advice." Bettina took a couple of deep breaths, swayed forward, swayed backward, swayed forward again, then sat upright and opened her eyes. "Is there a spirit with us now?"

Beneath my fingers, the glass moved slowly to a tile upon which had been printed the word YES in bright red letters. I wasn't surprised the glass moved, being tolerably familiar with the concepts of autosuggestion and self-delusion, although I had been content to simply rest my fingers on the glass and do no more. No doubt an overeager participant had nudged the glass across the table, possibly quite unaware that he or she was doing so.

"Very good. Let us see what the spirits have to share with us tonight." Mystic Bettina pulled a piece of paper from the stack, and opened it. "Does the velocity of an object in space determine the force of the vacuum through which it travels?"

Everyone looked at me. I cleared my throat and smiled. "It was the only thing I could think of offhand."

Behind my arm, Sarah pinched me.

Bettina gave me a stern look, and pulled another piece of paper from the pile. "I believe we will try a question a little less confusing. Here is one: is my brother James happy—"

"Sorry we're late," a voice interrupted as the door to the séance room was opened. Sarah gave a startled yelp, and jumped in her chair.

Silhouetted in the doorway were two shapes, the voice female. "Bloody badgers, it's dark in here. Tansy, find the switch, will you?"

We all blinked as an overhead light suddenly flooded the room with light. Two middle-aged women, both with close-cropped, greying hair, stood smiling at us. One was very short and rather round; the other was tall and had a brusque manner about her that reminded me of the late British actress Dame Margaret Rutherford. The Dame Margaret woman peered nearsightedly around the room, her frown clearing when she spotted me. "There you are! Knew we'd run you to earth somewhere around town. All ready, are you? That your champion?"

She looked at Milo, who appeared just as startled as the rest of us.

"Um…no, this a gentleman named Milo."

"Ah, it's the lady then? Excellent! Equality of the sexes and all that."

I scooted my chair back and got to my feet, feeling it necessary to clear up a misunderstanding that evidently involved me. "I'm sorry, but I think you have the wrong person. I'm not expecting to meet anyone this evening."

"Bloody badgers," Dame Margaret swore, turning to her companion. "Did we bollocks it up again?"

"Excuse me, but this is a private session," Bettina said with a determined smile, rising from her seat. "If you wish to book one of your own, you can do so tomorrow between the hours of nine and—"

"Where's the bloody card…I know I had it." Dame Margaret patted her navy jacket. "Had it when we left Court. Tansy, you pick it up?"

"Oh, let me check." The smaller woman rustled around in a voluminous purse, extracting a small gold card. She had a grandmotherly look about her, with twinkling brown eyes, a little pink nose that twitched ever so slightly, and soft grey curls that bobbed as she fussed in her purse. "Yes, I do. Here it is. The name is Portia Harding. Such a pretty name, Portia. I had a cat named Portia, once. Do you remember it, Letty? She was orange and white, and had a nasty habit of piddling in my shoes, but otherwise was a very smart cat. I was devastated when she was trampled by a contingent of Cromwell's men."

You could have cut the silence in the room with a mackerel.

"Honest to Pete, I know the English are supposed to be eccentric, but this is just ludicrous," I whispered to Sarah.

"They certainly are…different here," Sarah agreed, watching with interested eyes as the two women continued.

"That wasn't Cromwell's men. You have your history mixed up again. It was James II's party that fired the town and killed everyone, your piddling cat included."

"Ladies, I'm sorry, you're going to have to leave. We're in the middle of an important séance here, and we've just made contact."

"James II?" The short woman named Tansy wrinkled her brow, ignoring Bettina's plea. "Are you sure? I distinctly remember cursing Cromwell."

Dame Margaret shook her head. "Of course you cursed him; we all did. Don't you remember the group cursing parties we used to have with the powers and virtues? All that thunder and lightning and those absolutely glorious bonfires that lit up the countryside for miles."

"Ladies!" Bettina strode forward with a smile that was a bit tattered around the edges. "I must insist that you leave now."

"I liked the wine back then," Tansy said with a sad little sigh. "You just don't find wine like that anymore."

"You don't find plague anymore either, but you won't catch me bemoaning the loss of those days. Yes, yes, we hear you, whatever your name is." Dame Margaret turned to Bettina, who was standing at the opened door. "This won't take long at all."

"We're quite experienced at conducting trials," Tansy said as she bustled over to the door, patting Bettina's arm. "Why don't you take a seat, dear. It will all be over before you know it."

"She said trial," Sarah whispered, gripping my forearm. "Didn't Theo say something about a trial before you scared him off?"

"And a champion," I answered, nibbling my bottom lip. It was a bad habit from youth, but one I couldn't help in times of stress…and whether I wanted to admit it or not, I was suddenly a bit worried about the two women who were even now escorting an overwhelmed-looking Bettina back to her seat.

"What do you think it means?" Sarah asked.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Dame Margaret clapped her hands and, without warning, the room was filled with an intense bluish light, seemingly coming from nowhere and everywhere at once. It must have dazzled me more than I realized, because without being aware of moving, I suddenly found myself standing in the center of the room, facing the two women, Sarah at my side. "We commence with the first trial of the virtue known as Portia Harding."

"I have a feeling this evening is going to end up being just as strange as the afternoon," I told my friend.

She nodded.

"Is your champion ready?" Dame Margaret asked me.

Sarah and I looked at each other. "I'm a champion? Isn't that like a knight-errant or something?"

"So I gather." I turned back to face the two women. Beyond them, Bettina, Milo and his wife, and the elegant lady watched us with startled eyes. They were oddly silent given the unexpected interruption. "I'm really sorry, but this has to stop."

Dame Margaret frowned. "You're not Portia Harding?"

"Yes, I am, but—"

"And this is your champion?"

"No, she's my friend, not a champion, but—"

"It is your right to waive the presence of a champion, although I can't imagine why you would do so," Dame Margaret said with a shrug.

"Look, this has gone far enough," I said, getting angry. "As I explained to Theo, we are not the gullible, helpless tourists we may look to be, and frankly, we've had a hell of a day and I'm really not going to put up with any more fun and games a la Theo. Feel free to trot back to him and tell him that your little scheme didn't work, and the police will be contacting him about this continued harassment."