A deathly cold swept over me. That was Jaxon.

“Paige?” Julian said.

“I’m fine. Won’t be a second.”

Before I knew it, I was walking straight toward Carl. His eyes popped when I grabbed his tunic and dragged him into a corner.

“What did you see?”

My voice came out as a hiss. Carl stared at me as if I’d grown a second head. “What?”

“What did you tell her about the White Binder, Carl?”

“It’s XX-59-1.”

“I don’t care. Tell me what you saw.”

“I don’t see what business it is of yours.” He eyed my white tunic. “You don’t seem to have progressed as quickly as everyone thought you would. Did you disappoint your special keeper?”

I moved my face so it was about two inches away from his. He looked even more like a rat at this proximity.

“I’m not playing games, Carl,” I said, my voice low. “And I don’t like turncoats. Tell me what you saw.”

The nearest lanterns flickered. Nobody seemed to notice—the performers had already turned their attention to other things—but Carl did. There was a glint of fear in his eyes. “I didn’t see exactly where he was,” he admitted, “but I did see a sundial.”

“You scried it?”

“Yes.”

“What does she want with the Binder?” My grip on his tunic tightened.

“I don’t know. I just did what she said.” He pulled away from me. “Why are you asking all this?”

Blood roared in my ears. “No reason.” I let go of his tunic. “I’m sorry. I’m just nervous about the tests.”

Carl softened, flattered. “That’s understandable. I’m sure you’ll get your next color soon.”

“And what happens after that?”

“After pink? We join the battalion, of course! I can’t wait to get my hands on those filthy Buzzer bastards. I’ll be red in no time.”

He was already under their spell. Already a soldier, a killer in the making. I forced a smile and left.

Carl had reason to be proud. He was a good seer. He had used Nashira to call a subject into focus, to see it in the gleaming surface of whichever numen he favored. That was the gift of soothsayers, as well as some augurs. They could dovetail their gifts with the desires of another person—the querent—in order to read their future. Cartomancers and palmists did it all the time. And no matter what Jaxon said, it often came in handy. The æther was like the Scionet: a network of dreamscapes, each containing information that could be accessed at the click of a button. The querent provided a kind of search engine, a way to see through the eyes of drifting spirits.

Carl had found the perfect querent in Nashira. Not only had he seen Jax, but he had also seen a clue as to his location. One of the six sundials on the pillar.

I had to warn him. Soon. I didn’t know what she wanted with Jax, but I wasn’t going to let her bring him here.