“Oh, miss,” said one of them. “I wouldn’t venture in there. It’s not safe.”

Catherine stepped back from the doorway, heat rushing to her face. “Undoubtedly.” She swallowed. “Good day.”

Mud squished beneath her boots as she made her way around the other side of the ruins. She waited, leaning against the stone. Once the pair had moved on, she went back to study the front of the church. From a glance, it was clear she’d need a lantern. Shadows obscured much of the space, and debris littered the ground. Perhaps she could borrow one from Guy.

The city clock tolled the hour as she headed out of the cemetery. At the watchmaker’s, it seemed Guy and Owen had yet to return from the tailor’s. The back-room door swung open, and Henry Nolan took off his glasses to regard her. “Hello again, Miss Daly.” His brow furrowed. “Is Guy not with you?”

Catherine crossed the shop floor, pausing at the counter. “He should be along in a moment. He asked me to meet him here.”

The clocks on the wall ticked steadily, pendulums oscillating. Last night, Guy had told her his father no longer used magic, no longer sold hours. The timepiece she sought was of a different enchantment, but it was possible Henry might know something of it.

She said, “May I ask you something, sir?” And when he nodded, she went on. “I’m looking for a timepiece, an enchanted one. It—it’s said to be able to bring back the dead.”

Henry frowned. “I’ve heard of it, yes.”

“What have you heard?”

He let out a sigh. Not unkindly, he said, “Only of its existence, Miss Daly. I imagine my son has mentioned to you that I don’t enchant timepieces anymore. And the magic in that timepiece isn’t magic I’m capable of doing.”

Catherine inclined her head.

“If you don’t mind my asking, why are you looking for such a thing?”

The words put an unexpected ache in her chest. He’d asked so carefully, so gently; if he were her father, she would’ve told him. But he wasn’t. Her parents were miles from here, unknowing of her predicament. She’d lived in this city for two years, yet she felt more alone than she had that first night she’d spent at the print shop, with the memory of Father riding off on the cart sharp in her mind. She hadn’t cried then, but she’d come close, and she felt close to tears now, standing before Henry Nolan in the small and tidy watchmaker’s shop.

The bell above the shop door chimed, and Guy stepped in. He took off his hat but kept near the door, as though preparing for an imminent departure.

“Hello, Miss Daly,” he greeted her cheerfully. “Hello, Father.”

Catherine scrubbed hastily at her eyes. Bidding goodbye to Henry, she joined Guy at the door. He followed her outside, and on the street, she looked about for Owen.

“He’s just around the corner,” Guy told her, “at Mr. Fields’s shop. He wanted to inquire about an apprenticeship, I believe.”