A line of Rephaim stood behind the pair, all hooded and cloaked. Their auras seemed to fill the chapel, jostling mine. I was the only human present. “I suppose you know why you are here,” Nashira said.

I kept my mouth shut. I knew I was in trouble for taking food to Seb, but I could be in trouble for a host of other things: bandaging Warden, sneaking around, being human. Most likely Carl had reported my interest in his vision.

Or maybe they knew what I was.

“We found her outside Amaurotic House,” the guard declared. He was the spitting image of Pleione, right down to the shape of his eyes. “Sneaking around in the dark like a sewer rat.”

“Thank you, Alsafi.” Nashira looked down at me, but didn’t invite me to stand. “I understand you have been sneaking food to one of the amaurotic hands, 40. Is there a reason for that?”

“Because you’re starving him and beating him like an animal. He needs a doctor, a hospital.”

My voice echoed around the dark chapel. The hooded Rephaim were silent. “I am sorry you feel that way,” Nashira said, “but in Rephaite eyes—the eyes that now preside over your country—the human and the beast exist on the same level. We do not provide doctors for beasts.”

I could feel myself turning white with anger, but I bit back my next words. I’d only get Seb killed.

Nashira turned away. Warden stood; so did I.

“You might remember from the oration, 40, that we like to test those humans we assemble during the Bone Seasons. You see, we send our red-jackets after humans with an aura, but we cannot always identify what abilities that aura carries. I confess we have made mistakes in the past. A promising case might turn out to be no more exciting than an errant cartomancer, but no doubt you will be far more entertaining than that. Your aura precedes you.” She beckoned. “Come, show us your talents.”

Warden and Alsafi stepped away from me. Nashira and I were now facing each other across the room.

My muscles tautened. Surely they didn’t want me to fight her? I would lose. She and her angels would shatter my dreamscape. I could sense them circling her, waiting to defend their host.

But then I remembered what Liss had told me: that Nashira wanted a dreamwalker. I thought fast. Maybe there was something I could do that she had no power to deter, some advantage I could use against her.

I thought of the train. Without a dreamwalker or an oracle in her entourage, Nashira couldn’t affect the æther. And unless she’d somehow consumed the spirit of an unreadable, I could still let my spirit loose in her mind.

I could kill her.

Plan A crumbled when Alsafi returned. He bore a frail figure in his arms, a figure with a black bag over its head. The prisoner was lowered into a chair and handcuffed there. My fingers turned numb. Was it one of the others? Had they found the Dials, found my gang?