This was very, very troublesome. The girl was in Tupik, and the spoon was with her. But now Dumah’s army was on the move. Lilith couldn’t afford to continue waiting here in the forest for the girl’s return—the Lileen were exposed, undefended. If Dumah had learned from Yehuda Leib where the girl had gone, they could be vulnerable to ambush at any moment.

But, on the other hand, if Lilith moved too soon, she might tip her hand. Did Dumah even know the Lileen were there, biding their time beneath the trees?

Perhaps the boy had struck a bargain with Dumah on the girl’s behalf. Perhaps they were moving to rendezvous with her now.

But what if Dumah didn’t even know of the spoon? What if he had different—even better—intelligence?

It was all terribly unclear.

Lilith sniffed, leaning against the tree behind her. “How close are they?”

The cat cocked her head and calculated. “Fifteen, perhaps twenty minutes’ march. Do you mean to attack?”

“I don’t know,” said Lilith. “But I wish I did.”

“Sister,” said a gray lady, rising from the shadows. “What do you know that we do not?”

“Much,” said Lilith through a frown. “And still I do not know enough. But the time for planning may be past. Perhaps the time for action has come.”

A pair of shining eyes blinked down from the bough above her head, and another gray cat spoke. “It is a great danger, making war with Dumah. Many of our Sisters may be lost.”

“Yes,” said Lilith. “But the girl carries a tool of great power.”

“Surely,” said the cat slung overhead, “there are other weapons.”

“No,” said Lilith. “Not like this. I desire it. And what is more, I refuse to allow Dumah to have it.”

“Then what,” said the cat, “shall we do?”

Lilith sighed, unhappy with every option. “Let word be passed among my Sisters: I should like the girl alive if we can have her. But if you must kill her to bring me what she carries, you shall not hesitate.”

“Lilith has spoken,” said the gray lady.

Lilith had spoken.

—

“Very well,” said the Nameless Girl’s alte-bubbe. “Shall we go, then? Together?”

It felt strange, walking through Tupik like this. Everything had changed, and yet all around her, lives plodded forward as if things were the same as they had always been.

Evening prayers. Dinner. Bed.

Just like always.

The Nameless Girl’s alte-bubbe led her past the little iron gate into the graveyard on the hillside, but instead of continuing up through the stones and trees, she took a sharp turn. “This way,” she said. “I know a shortcut.” And, pulling the Nameless Girl behind, she began to circle her daughter’s grave:

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

They had separated now, making their tight circles individually around the little hillock.

“Four,” murmured the Nameless Girl’s alte-bubbe to herself. “Five.”