She became aware of Lorine and Arhys entering the parlor, bringing in more trays of tea cakes and a fresh pot of hot water. Arhys was pouting and glared at Karigan before she tromped out of the room with a toss of her head, apparently jealous of all the attention Karigan was receiving. Most likely, Arhys would have loved sitting in the parlor sipping tea with the matrons of Mill City.

“—and he has co-opted the slaves from mill three of my husband’s cotton mills to work on that excavation of his,” Mrs. Greeling was saying. At some point the conversation had moved from veils to Dr. Silk’s project.

“His and four others,” Mrs. Downey replied, “so he can operate the site all day and night.”

“I do not know how my husband shall make up for the lost labor,” Mrs. Greeling said. “It is setting us back—and the cost to replace the slaves and the time it takes to train them to the work?” She shook her head at the hopelessness of it all.

“It is the emperor’s will,” Mrs. Downey replied, gazing into her teacup.

They could, Karigan thought, hire paid labor, but such a revolutionary idea would reap accusations of sedition. The empire’s foundation was built on the backs of its slaves, allowing a very small elite class to live very well, like the two ladies before her. Like the professor. That much was clear. The discussion turned abruptly from that depressing theme back to the less controversial trivialities of the party and its entertainments.

Karigan sank back into her own thoughts. The message had been very direct and very like the captain.

Karigan,

Go to the Heroes Portal at midnight.

L. Mapstone, Capt., HMMS

• • •

She could almost hear the captain speak the words, see her fold the paper, and still Karigan was assailed by all the questions. How had the captain known she’d receive the message? What did it all mean, and why now? Why not when she’d first arrived? One point she was certain about was that Cloudy could only be a tomb cat, like her friend, Ghost Kitty. Somehow the tombs had survived Amberhill’s catastrophic weapon after he’d turned on his own king and country. The tombs had survived with at least some members of its caretaker community intact; enough that someone knew to send Karigan a message in the future.

Karigan had dealt with ghosts, had confronted monsters and Mornhavon the Black. She’d witnessed strange magic and had moved through time before. Still, the simple message from her captain, brought to her somehow through the passage of years, rattled her. Little ripples formed in the cup of tea she held in shaking hands.

It also gave her hope. Someone knew she had not died in Blackveil. Someone knew she had come forward in time. At the Heroes Portal, would someone tell her how to get home?

“Well, it has been very charming to visit with you, Miss Goodgrave,” Mrs. Downey said. She and Mrs. Greeling were rising from their chairs and dropping their veils over their faces.

They were leaving at last, thank the gods.

After Grott showed them out, she told him absolutely no more callers. She could not take it anymore. She paced back and forth in the parlor, wondering what to do with herself until midnight, because she had to do something or go truly mad.

Decisively she turned on her heel and headed out of the parlor and down the corridor. She would go to the stables to visit Raven. She’d ensure he was ready to go tonight and that her Tam Ryder outfit was in its usual place, and then she’d work out her route.

“Miss Goodgrave!” Mirriam intercepted Karigan at the back door. “Grott says you do not wish to receive any more callers. You should be grateful these ladies are willing to make your acquaintance.”

Grateful because I’m supposed to be mad, and they are willing to overlook such an embarrassing deficiency? Karigan wanted to snap that she had better use for her time, but she held her tongue and said, instead, “I am very tired.” At least it was true. How could she have slept after Cloudy’s visit?

“But several of them have eligible sons, and from Preferred families!”

So she could become breeding stock. “I am not interested.”

Mirriam sputtered in astonishment, and before she could say another word, Karigan was out the door and striding across the yard.

• • •

Later, at supper, the professor glanced at her more than once. Karigan felt she must exude restless energy. Raven had certainly picked up on it earlier, circling in his stall and digging at his bedding. Now she pushed legumes about her plate. Had Mirriam reported her agitated behavior to the professor? Perhaps he’d put it down to her concern for Lhean.

She had sat still long enough, after seeing Raven, to study the city maps in the professor’s library and to select a route for her midnight excursion. No streets or developments appeared to venture near the vicinity of where she remembered the Heroes Portal to lie. The area still seemed to be rural, which no doubt helped maintain the secret of the tombs. This would be her first time heading out into the city—the city and beyond—on her own. The fact she had confronted many frightening situations as a Green Rider, not least of all becoming lost in Blackveil Forest, did not make her any less nervous about sneaking out into hostile territory in the deep of night. Alone. Yes, that was what this future was—hostile territory.

She had considered taking someone into her confidence and asking him to accompany her. Luke? Cade? But she immediately dismissed the idea. This was her business and no one else’s, and it was her duty to keep the existence of the Heroes Portal a secret.