It was getting late. Ismene looked out at the darkness; the moon had set. She'd been reading for a while.

  The text was poetic. Almost mythological. Ismene didn't mind it; it was clearly written to be abstract, a story told in the way of someone who had deeper truths to convey. Everyday detail wasn't quite the same thing as the reality one held inside. Anyone who loved to read knew that, no matter how few books they could find.

  But there was enough detail for her to be enraptured.

  The book told the story of the current Voice's arrival as a prisoner. Their captivity, their near-death at the hands of Apiate priests, and their final appeal to the Castle. Even then, it had had a reputation for haunting; and at that time, the land was genuinely dangerous. The priests, the book said, had come only in a dire need, and with a faulty understanding of the Castle's nature. They had aimed to calm its dangers, and had ultimately failed.

  But the Castle had accepted the prisoner's appeal and, in the end, gained a Voice.

  The Castle woke up, then, and in time, the Library began. The Tyrenian temples took note; travelers came from beyond the immediate lands. The Castle and its rules as Ismene knew them had been shaped as it became a place of learning.

  The loss of the Castle's own history must have been a terrible thing, Ismene thought. Its shrouded origins were frustrating. The Voice was not the first Voice; they knew this much. Did they, together, wonder about the Castle's past as Ismene did? The books' answer, however, and the main goal of the Voice, was the preservation of the Castle in the world, and a peaceful coexistence with the people around it.

  The Castle was, in its majestic way, a threat to those people, the book said. It posed questions to the curious that it would not answer, and possessed power that should not be abused, the book said. Ismene knew Eryx would agree about its self-assessment. All the same, she found the Castle's history as magical as she could have hoped.

  The Voice and the Castle were one. The Hands were one with them both, in some way, and Ismene wasn't sure where one ended and the others began.

  There was one more thing that she had learned. One thing that made her nerves twist and glimmer in equal measure.

  The Voice did not live forever. Their lifespan was uncertain, and the Castle's lost memories meant that they had no remedy, if one existed. The current situation was apparently clear. The Voice would die, or dissolve, in time. And that time was coming closer.

  The Voice and the Castle were not sure what would happen then; but they hoped that a new Voice could be established.

  Ismene wasn't sure she dared consider the idea. Could she take their place? Could she become one with the Castle, and live alongside it? It would become a very long life. It would be a dream. A gift. But there were prerequisites. The ability to connect. A transition. A possibility of failure.

  Ismene thought of the dream she had had. There had been others, over time. She had never considered her dreams of the Castle to be nightmares. What if they were something more than dreams? What if she was somehow receiving them from the Castle?

  At that point, Ismene set the book aside. She took a long bath, trying to compose her thoughts.

  She couldn't throw everything away. Couldn't just give up. She'd worked hard, pushed to get where the was. Harmonia valued her, and Ismene did work she found fruitful. Even if she hid it, the books she smuggled were of use. And now, she could help Eryx do more. Trying to run away or remain at the Castle represented an irredeemable transgression against her future.

  "I'm doing all right," Ismene told herself. "Anyone would be glad to have a place in a House like Prytane Mellon's. It's stable. I'll still have work when I'm old. Before that, I might—"

  She trailed off, looking at the darkened windows. She might do better for herself, in the House, in time? At thirty, she wondered if that was really true. All the same, what she should do was appreciate what she had now. Giving up on a future and ruining all her chances for a fairy tale wasn't reasonable. And she shouldn't wish the Voice's death. Not for her benefit. No matter what mystical union she dreamed of, Ismene had a place she should be grateful for; the apparent trust of the Voice, and a good place in a House.

  "You have a job to do," she told herself. Not even her mother could argue with that. "The Voice has been good to you. Be grateful."

  She settled into bed, determined to make the most of the rest of her trip.

  * * *

  “Wake up!”

  Ismene jolted, suddenly awake. She heard Harmonia's voice from outside her room. “Come on; we’re heading out.”

  Ismene searched out the Voice's book; it was still beside her bed. Harmonia was outside, safely; the door hadn't opened for her. But Harmonia’s urgency—and her temper—were clear. Ismene raced to answer the door.

  “Good morning; why so soon, ma'am?”

  “Business at home,” Harmonia said curtly. “Father sent Tarn to notify me. Hurry up.”

  “I’ll have to pick up the volumes, if they're ready,” Ismene said. "Did you want to wait for the poetry?"

  “No. Get the pickups you can, and we’ll be out,” Harmonia said. “I’ll get Eryx."

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  Harmonia was trying to look nonchalant, Ismene thought, as she hastily packed. I’d best keep my eyes clear, she thought. She pulled on her ordinary pants and tunic instead of the soft robes the Castle had provided, and tugged her travel robe on over everything.

  She made sure to take the Voice's book along with her book cases, when she went down to the Library.

  “Welcome,” the desk Hand said, and Ismene took a breath. Should she address them as the Castle? As the Voice? They were both.

  “You kindly lent this to me,” she began, “I'm grateful. But my party, Lady Harmonia’s party, is leaving unexpectedly. I'm sorry, but I'll have to return it unfinished,” she said, giving the volume to the Hand.

  "Of course. We have some of your copies," the Hand volunteered.

  "Oh; thank you!" Ismene said. Somewhat to her surprise, everything she'd requested before her meeting with Harmonia was done; both the books Harmonia knew about, and the books she didn't. They were already wrapped, waterproof and safe for the trip. She packed the books carefully, making sure to keep her smuggled books out of the way.

  She'd just have to get the poetry and the other novels on the next trip. Harmonia would have to accept it.

  Suddenly, Ismene didn't want to go without saying more. "Thank you for everything, Castle, Voice," she said quietly to the Hand. "You take such good care of us. I never knew all these people were—all you. I'm happy every time I visit. I'm grateful you let me read that book." She envied the Voice, Ismene thought, more than anyone else she'd ever known. She wanted to ask the Voice straightforwardly: what was it like? Being one with the Castle, and for so long? Why had the Voice valued her enough to share the book with her?

  "Can you not stay, to learn more?"

  The Hand's question took Ismene by surprise, but she shook her head. "Lady Harmonia's leaving, so I have to go," she said.

  "You would be welcome as a guest." The Hand said.

  "Alone?" Ismene felt her eyebrows raise. The Hand nodded.

  Ismene's nerves crowded up in her stomach. Stay? On her own? She couldn't get that sort of approval—

  "You would let me?" she asked, hopelessly.

  The Hand nodded again. Could she? Why would the Hand, the whole Castle, offer that to her?

  "What's taking so long?" Harmonia's voice made Ismene almost flinch, and she felt the impossibility of what the Hand was offering crashing down on her.

  "I'm sorry, ma'am," Ismene said. Her superior was standing in the doorway, arms crossed. "I'm just getting the books, I'll be down right away."

  "You'd better hurry," Harmonia declared, and then, miraculously, left.

  Put on the spot, Ismene knew she couldn't do it. She could come to the Castle because of Harmonia; she had the chance to come back in the future because of Harmonia. She couldn't just sever her contract and refuse to leave the place for a while; she'd never find a Tyrenian House to take her again. She'd be a vagabond, and that was a quick route to death by impressment into labor. Again, the ever-looming specter of the army, or the factory.

  And if she did stay, what would she do here? Work? The Castle looked after itself. Ismene couldn't do nothing. Surely no one could do that, even in a place as rich as this. The Castle was generous with its guests, but if Ismene couldn't offer it anything useful, how long would she be welcome?

  She couldn't be the Voice.

  "I'm sorry," she said, realizing she was being emotional. The Hand appeared as distant as always. "I should go; but, thank you. I hope I can see you again soon."

  The Hand nodded, and Ismene turned to leave. Before she went too far, Ismene heard the Hand say something.

  "Thank you, Ismene. Please, return here soon."

  She turned back, and saw something she'd never seen before.

  The Hand was smiling at her.

  She smiled back, as widely and genuinely as she could remember, and then left. Ismene was halfway down to the stables, eyes tearing up with a strangely painful happiness, when she realized that she'd even been addressed by name.

  The Hand's smile had been a true one. Not the blank polite sort of greeting-smile that people made and expected for no reason, but the sort that someone had when they were genuinely fond of the person they were talking to. Ismene wasn't sure she saw them all that often.

  She didn't want to go, she thought.

  Ismene arrived at the stables, weighed down with her cases, to find Eryx visibly annoyed. Harmonia had apparently dragooned her into helping ready the horses, along with a couple of briskly working Hands. Harmonia herself was supervising.

  “I don’t see why we can’t claim we were delayed,” Eryx said. “I’m not done, and Mellon is going to want decent work out of me instead of something half-baked.”

  “That's Prytane Mellon, Eryx. It doesn’t matter, dear,” Harmonia replied coldly. “Father won’t blame you for following his own orders. He’ll figure something out.”

  Eryx pursed her lips. "I dislike having to leave the rest of my notes," she said. "I brought some of your father's memos when we came. I'd rather not tell him I was careless with them."

  "It doesn't matter what you think he thinks." Harmonia dismissed her with a clipped tone. Ismene thought she was a step away from rebuking Eryx. "The Hands will keep them for next time. We're going."

  Would there be a next time for Eryx? Maybe they really would come back soon, Ismene thought. Eryx's permit would only last so long, and the Prytane probably did want her to finish her research.

  Harmonia went ahead to say her goodbyes to the Voice; Eryx and Ismene, with a Hand leading Harmonia's mount, took the horses to the Castle’s entry hall.

  “Do you know why we’re leaving?” Eryx asked her when Harmonia was gone.

  “No,” Ismene said. She wished she had better explanations, but she had no idea why the Prytane needed Harmonia back. It didn't really matter. He called, and back they would go.

  "This is the last thing I need," Eryx grumbled as Ismene helped her and secured her own animal. "This place is bad enough."

  "What do you mean?" Ismene asked. Eryx hadn't been so negative before.

  "Had a weird dream," Eryx said.

  Something froze in Ismene. "Weird?"

  "Dreamed about sinking into the earth. But I was inside, here, I think. And everything was watching me," Eryx said, shaking her head. "This place is spooky, and I don't like it."

  Ismene hadn't realized until that moment just how much she'd liked the idea that her own dreams implied some connection to the Castle. That maybe she was special. She should have known it was a foolish thing to think.

  There wasn't any time to feel sorry about it. She had work do to.

  When they reached the entrance, Ismene was surprised to find the Voice waiting for them alongside Harmonia. Harmonia took her horse's reins from the escorting Hand and bowed to them. "I must take my farewell, Voice. My apologies for the abrupt departure."

  “Can you stay no longer?” the Voice asked.

  “You are very gracious; but I am needed at home,” Harmonia said. “Thank you for your hospitality, Voice; and my constant compliments to your Castle.”

  “Very well,” the Voice said. “Travel safely. May you return soon.”

  Harmonia said some pithy goodbye; but Ismene thought that the Voice looked at her, not Harmonia, under their veil as the group left. They had called her a friend, after all.

  They rode across the great bridge, then; and Ismene left the Castle behind.