“How is it possible, Isidore, considering how many millions upon millions upon millions of souls there are in the underworld—the souls of everyone who has ever lived and are all now there in the world of the dead—for you to be able to immediately see the one you were looking for out of the multitude?”

“Well, it’s rather hard to explain.” Isidore considered the question briefly. She frowned as she tilted her head up in thought. “You know the way you could walk into a vast gathering in the Keep, and despite how many hundreds and hundreds of people are there, you could always spot Baraccus immediately, pick him right out of all those people?”

Magda smiled sadly at the memory. “Yes, as a matter of fact I do recall such events.”

“It’s something like that,” Isidore said. “It’s not the same, but that’s the only example that I can think of that you might be able to grasp. Things don’t work the same way in the underworld as they do here. Time, distance, numbers, things like that are all different there. It’s like the same rules you are used to don’t work that way there.”

“Baraccus traveled the underworld,” Magda said, her mind wandering, “just before he killed himself.”

She wondered what it had been like for him, what he had seen, and how it must have affected him.

“It’s not the same for a spiritist.” Isidore squeezed Magda’s hand in sympathy. “Baraccus was a profoundly powerful wizard who journeyed through the world of the dead. We don’t have that kind of power and are not venturing into the underworld. A spiritist is only parting the veil just enough to look beyond for an instant.

“Rather than going into that place, as Baraccus did, a spiritist is a sorceress invoking her gift in a unique way. We are calling together a number of forces through spell-forms, along with both Additive and Subtractive Magic conjured to a very specific task.

“He was in that place. We are only looking in through a window.”

“I see,” Magda said. “So when you looked through that window, what did you see?”

“In that cauldron of magic, at the center of a storm of power, it all happens in an instant, yet that instant seems to last an eternity.

“In that terrible spark of time, I saw the truth.”

“And what was the truth that so horrified you?”

Isidore bit her bottom lip as she gathered her courage. “The truth that the others, the people of Grandengart who had died, were not there.”

Magda frowned and leaned in close to the woman. She was unsure exactly what Isidore had meant.

“You mean you couldn’t find them? You couldn’t tell in the vastness of the underworld that they were safe and at peace like you could with Joel?”

Isidore shook her head emphatically. “No. I mean they were not there.”