“With respect to my Sister,” said the broken one, “I believe they mean a blade, and not a vessel—the boy who travels with her.”

“Oh?” said Lilith.

“His eyes,” said the broken Sister, lost in memory. “His eyes are very sharp.”

Lilith turned away.

There were many questions. Too many.

She needed to strike back at Dumah—that, at least, was clear. But Dumah was a terrible foe. And there was talk of Mammon’s involvement in this affair as well.

Many powerful players. No room for rash decisions.

Perhaps it was the boy they were after. And if that was the case, then Lilith might very well be able to take Bluma; it would be just like Dumah and Mammon to look past her potential.

But there was, of course, another possibility, something so incredible and strange that Lilith could barely bring herself to consider it directly:

The spoon.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the spoon.

“Very well,” she said, and, as one, the Lileen raised their heads. “This is my will: You shall conduct my injured Sister back to our Haven for succor and healing. When you have arrived there, you shall muster the full strength of our Sisterhood, and you shall await my return.”

“Yes, Sister,” said the Lileen, as one.

“And where will you go?” said the broken one.

“I go to find answers,” said Lilith. “I go to consult Lord Dantalion.”

—

Lord Dantalion.

Bluma had heard that name before.

“Who is that?” she said.

“He is called Master of Whispers and Steward of Secrets,” said Mammon, his voice bouncing as the pram jostled its way over the snowy ground. “Every concealed thing is written in his ledgers, and if it is possible to overthrow the Angel of Death, he will know of it.”

Dantalion. Where had she heard that name before?

“But surely,” said Yehuda Leib, breathing hard with the exertion of pushing, “this Master of Whispers won’t be eager to reveal what he knows.”

“No, indeed,” said Mammon. “Dantalion defends his secrets jealously. But our treaties are strong—he alone is privileged to know the contents of my Treasure House, and in return, on rare occasions, I am entitled to consult him. But it is a very delicate thing: his answer is often obscure.”

“I see,” said Yehuda Leib. “In that case, I must go with you to consult him—two sets of ears will be better than one.”

At this, Mammon let out a hearty laugh. “Oh no,” he said. “By his own law, one consults Dantalion only alone; secrets cannot be spoken in company.”

“All right,” said Yehuda Leib. “Then you must promise to ask him for clarification if you don’t understand what he says.”

“Again, no,” said Mammon. “Dantalion will entertain only one question on any topic from any questioner. For this reason, it is very important that the question be properly phrased.”

“Then how will you phrase it?” said Yehuda Leib.