They arrived at a floor near the middle of the tower, and Gregory led them through a closed door. A central hallway ran straight through, bisecting the circle, and on each side of it lay more closed doors. “There,” he said. “One for everyone. Choose your own; they’re all equally well appointed, with full baths and fine beds. You’ve even got a window in each, though I would recommend against trying to open them. Or break them.”

“Are we to be locked in?” Santi asked.

“Certainly not. You’re free to come and go as you like. Explore the Tower. Just don’t try to leave.” His gaze swept over them and fixed on Jess. “We have sphinx guards downstairs. Ours do not turn off. Nor are they susceptible to rewritten scripts. Their behavior is etched into their metal bones.” He checked an elaborately gilded clock that graced an alcove in the center of the hall, between two of the rooms. “Dinner will be downstairs in an hour. Morgan can show you the way. There are bells in your rooms. Pull them if you require anything. Someone will be on duty no matter the hour.” Gregory smiled, and for the first time he looked less than friendly. It was not a pleasant change. “Morgan. After dinner, I will expect you back in your own room.”

She nodded, but said nothing. They watched as the Obscurist left and made his way down the stairs, and waited until he was gone before Jess walked to the door they’d entered and shut it. There was no lock to keep Gregory out. He wasn’t overly surprised.

“Morgan?” Wolfe was looking at the girl now, turning her to face him. “I know Gregory. I know what he does. Do you want to talk to me?”

“No,” she said. “You can’t help me, can you?”

He seemed to consider that for a moment. “We’ll see about that. Nic? Do you have a preference for a room?”

“One that isn’t inside this damned tower?” Santi chose a door at random and swung it open. Stopped and seemed to reconsider. “Or . . . I suppose I might grow accustomed.” The room, Jess realized as he craned to look, was enormous and luxurious, and the bed looked more lushly comfortable than anything he’d ever seen. Surely even kings didn’t sleep that well.

Jess opened the door across the hall. It was a mirror image, just as rich. The fabrics were muted golds and crimsons, and the floor was covered with a carpet so soft it felt like stepping on pillows.

Morgan said, “The rooms are all fine. He wasn’t lying about that.”

He turned and found that she was already inside and closing the door behind her.

Alone. Alone. It suddenly hit him like a fist to the gut that he had Morgan to himself and their friends would, perhaps, understand enough to leave them their privacy.

But probably not.

There were no locks on the doors. That was going to bother him a great deal, he realized. He searched for some way to jam his door shut, but found nothing.