When the three women disappeared down the tunnel, looking – to Jack's regret – as if they were not likely to bathe with one another, he turned to Faustus. The old man had been watching him with that curious, bombshell-cradling smile. Jack sensed that he was about to say something mystical and confusing, so he tried to forestall him with sarcasm.

"Got any prophecies about me?" he asked. "Any previous lives or mystic titles?"

"None as you would relish," the old man said.

"How do you know all the things you claim to know?" said Jack, starting forwards. "How did you know who we were? How did you know Alice was your last descendant? How did you know Robin was outside Edinburgh?"

"This I have told you ere now," said Faustus, with his maddening grin. It was all the worse because his lips were chapped, and if the grin got any wider, Jack was sure there would be blood dribbling down his chin.

"That which Myrrha knows, I know. That which Myrrha has seen, I have seen. Glimpses only of the Kraken's knowledge are mine to command, yet of Myrrha's life I see all. These three hundred years, I have lived as she lived and seen as she saw. I have ne'er been lonely. I beheld you as a youth in Pandemonium, and still later, as a man in her bed."

"Well, that's horrifying," said Jack conversationally. "Thanks very much."

In truth, it was only a portion of the wider horror. He had already been reeling from the revelation that he'd gone to bed with a Neolithic demoness who had cut out one of her ribs to be free of the little mother. He had seen that scar. He had traced it with his fingers. He'd always assumed she had got it from some kind of arcane ritual, but not that arcane.

"Moreover," said Faustus, "as she knows somewhat of the future through her accursed prognostications, that in like manner do I know. 'Twas Myrrha's cards revealed unto me the personage of my last descendant. They taught me also your 'mystic title', as you are pleased to express it."

Jack didn't want to ask. He didn't want to give the old man any encouragement. But he should have realized that a puzzled silence was as good as a direct question, especially to an academic.

"I know thee as the Watchman at the North Gate," said Faustus.

"And why is that?" said Jack, still determined to be unprovokable.

"I know not," said the old man, giggling as though this was the best joke in the world. "No more knows she! In matters of import, her art is full silent. Therein we may discern its accursed nature."

"Yes," said Jack. "Well. It occurs to me, Doctor Gullible, that since you've been inside her head, you might know what she means to use against Ellini when she gets to Edinburgh."

The old man's smile disappeared, leaving a spot of blood behind it. "She plans it not explicitly, for she knows she is overheard. Yet I am assured she means to use the Kraken in some fashion."

"Ah," said Jack, marvelling at his own restraint. "So let me get this straight. Your plan is for Ellini to go to Edinburgh and trust Robin. Her plan is for Ellini to go to Edinburgh and trust Robin. You share her every experience and have been living vicariously through her for three hundred years, but we're supposed to trust that you're not on her side because – well, just because. Oh, and you're quite content to give us orders, but you're not coming out. You'll be nice and safe down here no matter what happens. Have I missed anything?"

"Think you I am her agent?" Faustus demanded.

"Her supporter, maybe."

"How differs the one from the other?"

"I don't think she'd bother to use you, but I think you might have been in her head long enough to root for her."

"Had you lived as she has lived and retained a moiety of sense, you would not say so. My position is one of privilege, Jack Cade, for I am her, yet am I outside her. As one who is outside, I see, as she is yet unable, what it is she needs. We are both long-lived, sleepless creatures. Our similarities did not begin with our bargain, yet were they cemented thus. I, as she, need sleep, death, dark, belonging. You understand this also, for you have seen all faces of the dark. And you know it was ever kind to lost children."

***

After that, he didn't linger. Even the prospect of a wild dragon-back ride over the demon realms was nothing to the flesh-creeping influence of the old man.

Jack couldn't help thinking about another old man – just as ancient and gleeful, and almost as naked – who had held out the black arrow to him and said, "This, too, is the dark, Sahib. You must accept all its faces, if you wish to be one of its children."

It was impossible that the two could be linked. Faustus had been shut up here for three hundred years, and Indian sadhus needed no assistance in talking cryptically. But he felt as though the dark itself was directing them – using them to get to Jack and explain its curious position.

The black arrow had been touted as the weapon that would 'destroy' him, not 'kill' him – a distinction he'd only understood when it was too late. How comprehensively he'd been destroyed by thrusting that arrow through Ellini's chest was something he still didn't like to think about.

But then the Sadhu had said, "Destruction is good, Sahib. The dark is merciful."

And he could see, now, what the old man had meant. Destruction had cleared the way for all this – for his reunion with Ellini, for an understanding of her he couldn't have got any other way.

But had it been worth it? That was a question he wasn't sure how to answer. The pain had been as intense as the pleasure, and it had lasted a lot longer. It had obliterated so many aspects of who he was. He still had nightmares about it – and he knew he would have nightmares about the sea-witch and the black lake as long as he lived.

He was through the despair. Perhaps he was a better person because of it. And, from the other side, it was easy to be glad that it had happened. But worth it? He didn't know.

Their dragon-back journey across the demon realms was an uneventful one. The dragons were kind enough not to fly directly over the black lake, but Jack glimpsed it, and saw its surface ripple without any breeze. An answering ripple went through him, and he was very thankful for the handfuls of sand he had stuffed into his pockets – a reassuringly physical reminder of Ellini's message of hope.

He and Darwin dismounted in the meadow of poplar trees. Jack tried not to think about the ground splitting open, disgorging Joel and Alim in their black livery.

Darwin patted the dragons on their muzzles, called them 'old girls', and shooed them off with all the confidence of a man who rode in the hunt every Boxing Day. He didn't seem nervous – or even excited – at the prospect of seeing the sun again. But then, he'd already seen Alice. What was the sun's glare compared to hers?

The dragons took a few, waddling steps back the way they had come, then spread their wings, leapt off the ground, and allowed the wind to catch at them. It was incredible, how they could go from ducks to swans in the space of one leap.

Jack didn't stop to watch them go. His eyes were on the doorway at the other end of the field.

"Jack, old boy?" said Darwin, turning to him. "Do you know much about women?"

Jack gave him a look of alarm. "I don't think you understand how crucial it is that we get out now."

He looked back. The dragons were already disappearing like silver streamers on the horizon.

"Yes, but it's... well, there wasn't time to ask before. All this business about the little mother and her sister took precedence, obviously. And when we go through that door, I'll have to explain where I've been, and probably talk to some newspapermen, and-"

"I don't know anything about your woman," said Jack hurriedly, watching the ground for little cracks. "No-one does."

"She's a sweet old thing," said Darwin.

Jack didn't know what to say to this. He would normally have agreed just to shut him up, but it was too enormous a lie to endorse, even in life-or-death circumstances. "Please can we talk about this on the other side?"

"I just need to know if – if there's anyone else."

"No," said Jack, squirming at the memory of the kiss they had shared in the Faculty lounge. He put a hand on Darwin's arm, and then thought better of it. "Look, this is all I know. She didn't mean to send you away. She was disappointed that you didn't see eye-to-eye with her about the prison colonists coming to live in Oxford."

"I was only trying to preserve the sanctity of-"

"Yes," said Jack. He felt as though he could smell the smoky scent of the Queen's skin. "Yes, all right, I'm just trying to tell you what she thought. I can't tell you what to do, because she's a mystery to me, and I really want it to stay that way, but I know she wants a man that she can respect and admire, so just-" He waved a hand, "-be yourself, do great things, travel to Antarctica. Make a name for yourself, and she'll love you."

Darwin was beaming. Somehow, Jack had managed to give him exactly the sort of advice he'd wanted – the kind that justified him going away.

"Thanks, old boy-"

"Thank me on the other side," said Jack. "Anyone would think I was the one who'd been down here for seven years."

***

On the other side, he ate, and explained, and attempted to sleep. It would be half a day at least before Ellini arrived, and it would be nice to have rested before he faced her. But all the desire and worry joined forces to make him unbearably restless. He couldn't stop imagining what she might say or do when she finally saw Sita – or what he might say and do in the extremity of his hunger. He wasn't afraid of himself anymore, but he was afraid of pestering her.

He tried to sit down and play, but his attention-span for anything other than Ellini was hopelessly short. Still, he decanted the sand from his pockets into a jar which he installed on top of the piano. It would remind him, when he next tried to play, that nothing was hopeless.

He went to visit Sita – now ensconced in Ellini's old room – and tell her everything that had happened, but he was so brief and incoherent that she got bored and started to tell him about her experiences instead.

She chattered excitably, as if she had seen more amazing things than sea-monsters and dragons. Sergei was reading her The Moonstone, and explaining all the technological advances of the past twenty years. Miss Manda had bought her three new dresses, and Inspector Hastings had let her hold a pistol. The little mother – the little mother! – had quizzed her about the demon realms, and knew the name of her sphinx, and had promised to open another door in twenty-eight years' time so that she could attend his one-thousandth birthday party.

Jack tried to listen, tried to smile in the right places, tried not to think about Ellini. But Sita eventually guessed the reason for his preoccupation.

"When will she be here? Did you tell her I'm back? Did she believe it?"

"She'll believe it once she sees you," said Jack, with more conviction than he felt.

He was nervous about the eventual meeting between them. Sita was expecting comfort. She was expecting the bright, talkative sister of twenty years ago. And Ellini would be in no condition to offer any of these things. She would be sceptical and withdrawn – maybe even impolite – and Sita might start to cry...

"It's just... it's been a long time. For her."

"I'm prepared for it," said Sita, jutting out her chin.

"Good."

"When will she get here?"

"Soon."

"Will you kill Father Maloney if she asks you to?"

Anxious as he felt, Jack smiled at this. "You think you can get her to ask me?"

Sita shrugged. "She'll be so happy when she sees me, I bet she'll do anything."

Jack's smile disappeared. "Well, get some rest," he said. "And don't wait up for her. The stage gets in after midnight."

***

The news that Alice would be arriving sent everyone into a panic. Even Sergei could be seen stalking about, checking that the books on the shelves were correctly alphabetized and the mantels had all been dusted. Only Elsie was unaffected, and that was because she'd never met Alice.

Jack took tea with her and Danvers in the Faculty lounge, to distract himself from the wait. It was a good distraction, because it filled him with nameless dread.

He had seen her world now – the horrors of it, the strangeness of it, the way it hovered around the outskirts of humanity as if trying, but never quite succeeding, to mimic it. There was no looking at Elsie now without seeing black sand and blue-grey tentacles.

"You've done well," she said, turning her blindfolded head up to him. "I can feel it."

"Yes, I thought you'd say something like that," said Jack.

"Sita told me how you got her out. It was wonderful to hear her describe my people. I know them so intimately that I never get a chance to see how they appear to others." She paused, and then said, in a diplomatic tone that owed everything to Danvers, "You mustn't be too hard on the Queen, you know. She gets terribly bored."

Jack didn't know how to respond. He didn't want to think about being hard on the Queen. Or otherwise.

He turned to Danvers, who was managing to pour the tea with one hand, while the other was clasped in Elsie's. He wondered if they had come to some kind of understanding. And then he wondered what kind of understanding was possible, with Elsie so inexperienced and Danvers so incoherent. But then, Sam and Manda had come to an understanding all by themselves. He realized he faintly resented that.

"Look, I've got the objects you asked for," he said, leaning across the table to Elsie. "What do I do with them? How do they save Ellini from her past?"

"I told you, I never knew. Try showing them to her and see what happens."

Jack lowered his eyelids slightly. "Did I tell you I met a friend of yours underground? A Doctor Faustus?"

He had said it to try and annoy her as much as she was annoying him, but it was no good. Danvers tightened his hold on her hand and made her yelp, but she was otherwise unaffected.

"He should be dead, shouldn't he?" she asked, turning to Danvers. "You told me humans don't live much past seventy."

"Why are you asking him?" said Jack. "I'm the one who's seen him." He put a hand to his forehead to try and calm himself down. "Apparently you placed him on a level of hell that would prolong his life until you returned. Do you remember doing that?"

Elsie shook her head.

He sighed, and began telling her what Faustus had told him, translating the archaisms in his head as he went.

Halfway through his tale, she got up from the table, made that strange, handle-grasping motion in midair, and opened a doorway. Jack felt stale, sulphurous air wafting out. He shuffled round to see what fresh nightmare she had exposed, ready to snap his eyelids shut if he was confronted by the sea-witch, or the Queen in her black lace dress. But it was just a cliff of black rock, honeycombed with tunnel openings.

Elsie jerked her hand irritably and the invisible door slammed shut. Then she opened two more – one which looked out over a temple with rock-cut steps, the other over a lake. What all the vistas had in common was the black rock, moist and shining and spangled with red stones.

Jack realized, with a thrashing sensation in his stomach, that he was looking at the fire-mines. He had never seen them before, unless you counted the depictions in Emma Hope's paintings. And he had squinted at those through half-closed eyelids, hoping not to pick up more detail than he could handle.

He was looking at the place where Ellini had been enslaved for five years. He even thought he could see dangling lengths of chain on the cavern walls.

Elsie kept slamming the doorways and starting again. Jack resisted the impulse to stop her. It wouldn't matter soon. All the things Ellini had suffered there – all the things she'd suffered with Robin – they would cease to exert an influence once he'd saved her from her past, wouldn't they?

It seemed unlikely. Jack had been magically liberated from his own misery – Ellini's touch had made his scars sink back into his skin – but he never forgot about the bad times. He could rarely go an hour without thinking about them.

"No, no, no," Elsie muttered under her breath. "Ah-"

She had opened a door into a tunnel, and there was candlelight at the end of it. With another slam, and another handle-grasping motion, they were looking into Faustus's cave.

The old man was sitting on a rock, poring over some damp-crinkled papers, but he got up when he sensed the change of light.

Now that Jack was seeing him out of context – outside the spooky half-light of his cave – he looked old and frail and bewildered. Before, he had been a cheeky, subterranean goblin, delighted by his own nakedness, delivering prophecies of doom with the greatest enjoyment. Now he blinked, and shaded his eyes from the daylight, and gaped at Eve, who had presumably not changed in three hundred years, apart from the eyelessness. Jack almost felt sorry for him.

Danvers obviously didn't. "Do you mind?" he exclaimed, averting his eyes from the old man's nakedness. "There is a lady present!"

"She can't see him, Danvers," Jack pointed out.

"It's the principle of the thing!" Danvers protested. "Besides, supposing Sarah came in to clean? Supposing Mrs Darwin-?"

"She's already seen it," said Jack. He preferred not to speculate on what Sarah had or hadn't seen. He liked her too much.

"Art in earnest, good lady?" said the old man, ignoring them both. "Has the time come indeed? And you so unchanged?"

Jack decided he couldn't stand any more Renaissance English. "I'll leave the three of you to get acquainted. Or reacquainted, or whatever."

He put a hand on Elsie's wrist, which cost him some misgivings, and earned him a glare from Danvers. "Just don't be sentimental please. And no more whimsical punishments. Myrrha has to die, plain and simple. I don't want her death to be poetic or appropriate, or even lingering. I just want it to be final."

***

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