There’s no sign of the eternity knot. He’s on a flat terrace with a crenellated edge and a single stairway leading down.

Then he hears voices, as someone is climbing the stair to where Isaac stands.

Knowing that he’s invisible doesn’t stop Isaac from shrinking back against the wall as two men—two knights, in partial armor—step onto the top of the tower.

“. . . Majesty has hidden himself. I share your concern,” says the first knight. “Something is threatening us all.”

“Coming from within,” says the second.

“Aye,” says the first. They move to the edge of the tower, gazing out over the wall toward the town.

Isaac notes two things. First that the two speak English. Then that the second wears a familiar tunic—the same tunic (only much brighter and newer) as the knight’s in the armory at Rookskill—emblazoned with the sigil of the eternity knot.

This knight is Isaac’s own ghost knight, and he feels an instant kinship with this long-dead man. He’s broad-shouldered with a craggy face, a trace of beard, and piercing blue eyes. He says, “There is evil sorcery at work. Last night I heard a rending cry from the forest, and at dawn heard that the old hermit living out by the stile claims to have seen wolves in the shadows. Great beasts with fierce eyes.”

“Dire wolves?” asks the first, dropping his voice. “They’ve not been seen for generations.”

“They are not, I think, of this world.”

Some moments of silence pass before the first knight speaks again. “’Tis my thinking that great evil has been lured here by the bewitcher. It has an uncanny hold over His Majesty. All from a stone that has no human soul.” He adds in a low voice, “I’ve never liked the thing.”

Isaac’s knight nods agreement. “All matters have become worse since the queen’s banishment.”

“Aye. Our king has fallen prey. The bewitcher should be locked away for the sake of the realm and His Majesty.” He pauses. “And the other—Caledfwlch—as well. It is too potent. Dangerous. An object not to be left in the hands of a brooding king who has fallen prey to a fae invention.”

“Agreed,” Isaac’s knight says. “I can count on you, then?”

“Aye. And you’ll find others in our camp.”

The two stare out in silence. Isaac’s knight says, “We must be careful in our approach. It could be seen as treason. Our only hope lies with Mistress Vivienne.”

The first knight nods. “You have my word.”

They stand a moment longer, then move to leave.

Isaac, stepping behind them into the narrow stairwell, follows the knights as two words—bewitcher and Caledfwlch—turn in his mind.

*   *   *

The noises of the busy place grow as they descend. Smells of cooking meat and smoke, and laughter and loud talk, fill the air.