“What’s prospecto?” William asked.

“Do you have popcorn?” Claire asked.

“Look at us”—Solon tossed an empty mug to Cat, who caught it by the handle with her pinky—“having a little party.”

“My dad needs a doctor,” Eureka said.

“Yes, yes,” Solon said. “My assistant should be here presently. She makes the loveliest painkillers.”

“His wound needs redressing, too,” Eureka said. “We need gauze, antiseptic—”

“When Filiz gets here. She handles what I don’t.” Solon reached into his robe pocket and withdrew a hand-rolled cigarette. He put it in his mouth, leaned over the fire, and inhaled. He blew out a great puff of smoke that smelled like cloves. William coughed. Eureka fanned the smoke away from her brother’s face.

“First,” Solon said, “I must know which one of you saw through the witches’ glaze into my cave?”

“Me,” Claire said.

“Should have known,” Solon said. “She’s three foot two and exudes the knowledge that adults are full of crap. Her quirk is still quite strong.”

“What’s a quirk?” Cat asked, but Solon only smiled at Claire.

“Claire is my sister,” Eureka explained. “She and William are twins.”

Solon nodded at William, exhaled out the corner of his mouth to be polite. “What’s your brand of magic?”

“I’m still deciding,” William said. He didn’t mean it as a joke—to William, magic was real.

The lost Seedbearer rested his cigarette on the stalagmite he was using as an ashtray. “I understand.”

Ander picked up the cigarette and sniffed it as if he’d never seen one before. “How can you smoke?”

Solon snatched the cigarette. “I have forsaken a million pleasures, but I am faithful to this.”

“But what about your Zephyr?” Ander asked. “How can you still—”

“My lungs are ruined.” Solon took a puff and exhaled an enormous plume of smoke. “Derailing you a moment ago was the first I’ve used my Zephyr in ages. I suppose, if my death depended on it, I could still erect a cordon.” He tapped the tip of the cigarette. “But I prefer this little buzz.”

He turned away, cigarette dangling from his lips, and plucked the orchid petals from their branch. He dropped them into a glass soda bottle, counting the petals under his breath, as if they were precious gold coins.

“What are you going to do with those?” Claire asked.

Solon smiled and continued his weird work. When he had filled the bottle, he pulled a small black velvet pouch from his pocket and poured the remaining amethyst petals into it.

“I’ll save these for a slightly less rainy day,”he said.

“Now that you have your little flower,” Cat said, “is there any chance I could use a phone, or hop on someone’s Wi-Fi?”

“He’s been living under a rock,” Eureka said. “I doubt he’s hooked up to broadband.” She glanced at Solon. “Cat was separated from her family. She needs to reach them.”

“We’re off the grid down here,” Solon said. “There used to be an Internet café a couple of miles to the west, but now all of that is waterworld, thanks to Eureka. The entire worldwide cobweb has been washed away.”

Cat gaped at Eureka. “You killed the Internet.”

“The witches may know where your family is,” Solon continued, “but they don’t provide information for free.” He glanced at the petal-filled bottle. “I’d think thrice before becoming indebted to those beasts.”

“We met them,” Eureka said. “They helped us find you. They carried Dad and—”

“I know.” Solon turned to the disintegrated bower. He ran his hand lightly over the moth-wing dust. “I would recognize the remains of my darlings anywhere.”

“Can the witches really put Cat in touch with her family?” Eureka asked.

“They can do many things.” Solon flung down the velvet pouch, reached for a burlap sack behind him. He spilled out a mass of colored stones and began sifting through them. “Scavenging vultures. Whorish harpies. You met Esme? The young one—very pretty?”

“We didn’t catch their names,” Eureka said.

“You never will—and you must never call her by it. Their names are secret from everyone but other gossipwitches. Anyone who knows one must pretend that she does not.”

“Then why tell me her name?” Eureka asked.

“Because Esme is the smartest and the loveliest and therefore the most terrible.”

“What about the witches’ glaze?” Claire scooted closer to Solon, who gave her an alarmed smile, as if no one had been close to him in years.

“I pay the hags to enchant the entrance to my cave. The glaze is a special camouflage so my family can’t find me. It’s imperceptible to the senses, or it’s supposed to be. I shall demand a refund.” He looked at Ander. “How did you get this far?”

“I have been planning to find you for a long time—”

“Easy to say that now, but you could never have found me on your own.” Solon made a scary face at one of his skulls. Then he rose and disappeared again behind the hanging tapestry. Eureka heard sounds of cupboards being flung open and slammed shut.

“I am no threat to you, Solon,” Ander called. “I hate them as much as you do.”