“I will ask if it is possible for the living to overthrow Death.”

There was a long silence now as Bluma and Yehuda Leib pondered this phrasing.

Presently, Yehuda Leib spoke. “Wouldn’t it be better,” he said, “to be more specific?”

Mammon grinned. “But this is one of Dantalion’s snares. The more specific one’s question, the less information one is likely to receive. If I were to ask, Is it possible for this particular boy, son of his parents, who lives in the place where you dwell, to go to war and overthrow the Angel of Death in order to recover his dead father’s soul? Dantalion might simply say no for any number of reasons. Perhaps it is possible for you to prevail, but not to recover the soul of your father; perhaps there is another town with the same name as yours—any number of details might offer Lord Dantalion shelter for deception.”

Gradually, Bluma slowed her feet, allowing Yehuda Leib and the demon pram to outpace her by several steps.

Lord Dantalion.

When she had failed to cut her name away in the second cemetery, Lilith had suggested consulting Lord Dantalion for a solution. That was where she’d heard his name.

When they arrived at his palace, Bluma would have to find a way to ask him how to proceed.

But how could she phrase her question?

Lord Dantalion, is it possible for me to cut away my name?

No—surely he would answer only yes or no.

Lord Dantalion, how should one go about getting rid of one’s name?

But should seemed like a dangerous word—who was to say if she would agree with what Dantalion thought she should do?

Lord Dantalion, if one were to wish…

No.

This was difficult.

Bluma reached her fingers into her apron pocket. The spoon was there, cold and sharp as always.

It was almost comforting.

Almost.

Ahead of her, Yehuda Leib had come to a stop.

“There it is,” said Mammon, twisting backward over the top of his pram.

“What is it?” said Yehuda Leib.

The three of them were perched at the summit of a low hillock, gazing off through the thickening snow, and at first it was difficult to make out what was before them.

Alone in the middle distance, a tall stone tower was reaching up beyond the limits of the sky, its flat faces as numerous as the stars.

Slowly, Bluma’s gut filled with sallow dread; she knew before Mammon spoke.

“That,” said Mammon, “is Death’s house.”

It felt sick to Bluma, wicked; it made her want to crawl out of her skin and disappear entirely.

“Do you think you can take it?” said Mammon.

“I know I can,” said Yehuda Leib.

Mammon chuckled.

“But why have you brought us here?” said Yehuda Leib. “I thought you wanted to consult Dantalion.”