Leo shook his head. He’s leaving something out . . . “There was something you were supposed to do,” I said. “Wasn’t there?”

Leo nodded.

Say something? No. Take something? “Was the man in the suit supposed to give you something, too?”

“I was supposed to take it back,” Leo said. He’d started trembling again.

“It’s not your fault,” I said again. “You did what you could.”

“He was supposed to give me another one back,” Leo said. He hunched up defensively. “She’s going to be . . .”

“She’s going to be what?” I kept my voice calm. I was right on the edge of getting him to talk. I tried out different routes through the futures, probing delicately. I just needed to find the right thing to say.

There was a clumping from the stairs and Caldera appeared again. “We might have to move him.”

I didn’t take my eyes off Leo. “Can this wait a sec?”

“Leo,” Caldera said. “Who sent you to Pudding Mill Lane? Can you tell us?”

Leo looked back at Caldera with wide eyes and hunched over on the bed. All the futures in which he spoke to us vanished.

I sighed and got up. “Let’s talk outside.”

We went back into the hall. “Wrong question to ask,” I said once we were out of earshot.

“Priorities just changed,” Caldera said. “That guy in the picture? That was Rayfield.”

“Who?”

“You remember the guy Haken and the others were looking for? Nirvathis’s apprentice? That guy.” Caldera shook her head. “This is getting too big too fast. I’m trying to get the station but I can’t raise them. If the guys don’t show up we might have to take him there ourselves.”

“If they’re coming here we— Wait. You can’t raise them?”

“Com disc’s dead.”

I frowned. “Just now?”

“What did you manage to get out of him?”

“Leo? Uh . . . yeah, he saw Chamois. That was why he ran . . .” Something was bugging me. “Wait. Your communicator focus isn’t working?”

“Yeah, let me try it again.” Caldera pulled out a serrated blue-purple disc and focused on it. The design was similar to mine, though slightly more streamlined.

I waited. Thirty seconds went by, a minute. “Anything?”

“Worthless piece of crap,” Caldera muttered. “‘Work every time,’ my arse. We could just use radios but no, they’re not secure enough . . .”

Something was nagging at me. “Those things have a locator beacon, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You activated it?”

“Yes,” Caldera said shortly.

“Should they be here by now?”

“Yes.” Caldera shot me an annoyed glance. “I’m going to try out back. Wards must be screwing with the signal.” She started down the steps.

I frowned, watching her go down. I’m not an expert on defensive wards, but I’d had a close look at the ones on this house, and as far as I could tell they were low-power and basic. They shouldn’t block communication—definitely not something as advanced as a synchronous focus. Anyway, hadn’t Caldera used that same focus to call for backup just a little while ago? Why should the wards suddenly start blocking it now?