“She expects,” Cythera said, “to be held there forever. Hazoth does not age. As long as she is trapped in a magic circle, neither will she. He will never release her, of course—he draws power from holding her captive, for one thing. The demons he commands delight in her agonies, and make gifts of their magic to him in exchange. For another thing he knows that if she ever does free herself, her first order of business will be to annihilate him utterly.”

“Fer revenge,” Kemper said, nodding agreeably.

“For justice, call it.” Cythera turned to Malden. “It was just an hour ago that I realized another reason why she chose to make herself a tree. That was when I decided I would come here and aid you all I can.”

“Oh?” Malden asked.

“Cruel boys break the branches of trees all the time, but trees do not feel pain.”

“Ah.”

“Hark,” Cythera said, “I don’t have much time. Hazoth is closeted in his bedchamber but he will emerge before the third hour of the morning. I was able to confuse the guards enough they did not see me go, but I must be back before he calls for me. He always does after consorting with demons. He knows the smell of brimstone nauseates me, you see. He is most subtle in his tortures, is Hazoth.”

“You must hate him,” Malden said.

Cythera stared at him with burning eyes. As if he could not comprehend what she felt for the man. He supposed in many ways he couldn’t, so he looked away.

“One thing I don’t understand,” he said. “Forgive me, but—you have so much power bound up in your painted skin. Couldn’t you simply . . . I don’t know. Strike him? Grab him forcefully. Wouldn’t that be enough to destroy him? Surely that would satisfy justice.” And save me a great deal of trouble, too, Malden thought.

It was Cythera’s turn to avert her gaze. “Not all of his protections are magical,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “But there is a simpler reason. The magical link he has with me would make such a gesture futile. I could release the curses I have stored up against him, yes. But the link would simply send them back to me.” She shook her head. “There’s no answer there. You must find another way.”

“I’ve been working on a plan,” he told her, and showed her the papers on the table. “You heard the gist of it, and said it would fail.”

“Yes. Look. Here,” she said, and pointed to the map. Her finger was aimed at the great hall on the first floor.

Malden knew exactly what she was pointing out. “The great iron sphere there, by the stairs. I wondered about it, but knew not what it might be.”

“It’s another power source for Hazoth’s wizardry. He has many, and I do not know them all.”