As she stood on the full moon, the gentle light of the quartz glowing about her ankles, she reflected that Captain Mapstone’s riddle had been correct, that she would find the scything moon held captive in the prison of forgotten days. Not only that, but she was sure this would be her way home. Why else had she been sent that message from almost two centuries ago, other than to guide her home?

Problem was, which of the crescent moons of the moondial was the correct “scything moon?” One of them had to preserve a piece of time from her own timeline. She refused to believe otherwise. Could she cross thresholds without Laurelyn’s help? Or without the light of her moonstone?

One thing at a time, she thought. She’d have to bring Lhean here for he would know more, know if using the moondial was even possible.

Chattering voices and a screeching sound made her freeze, then tip-toe to the arched entry. Gazing out into the hall of the hummingbirds, light flowed across the floor from an open door revealing several men attempting to push an enormous something across the hall.

Ghallos, she realized.

They appeared to be stuck.

“I am telling you, this axel is broken,” one of the men said. It led to an argument about the wheeled platform and the p’ehdrose not moving at all.

Uh oh, Karigan thought. She was going to be trapped here for a while. There was a chance she could get by the men while faded out, but she decided to wait, weighing in on the side of caution. If this went on very long, however, she would not reach Lhean this night.

While the workmen bickered, she decided to explore the moondial room further, for there were display cases to look in. It was difficult to make out details in the dark, but there was just enough ambient light to pick out weapons—some Eletian arrows, an ax, knives, and a saber. Though she could not see it well, she was certain the saber was her own, returned to its display case after its showing in Mill City. She glanced back at the ax. Could it be Lynx’s throwing ax? Had Dr. Silk acquired all the gear she and her companions had left behind in Castle Argenthyne?

There were other items in the case, bulky artifacts that might have been their packs, and smaller items, their contents. It felt strange that people could spend time gazing at her personal items, such as her comb and brush. But how many visitors actually came to this museum? Surely none from outside the palace. She had a feeling that Dr. Silk had created this place more for his personal gratification than as a museum where people could come to appreciate the past.

In a separate display case, the contents appeared to draw starlight to themselves, and Karigan knew immediately they were moonstones. Hundreds of them filling the entire case. Dr. Silk had said earlier that they’d acquired moonstones in war from Eletian captives. She thought about all the lives those moonstones represented. Amberhill may have defeated them in battle, but any survivors must have perished from the loss of etherea and what had become of the lands with the use of machines. Lhean had said even the air was poison.

When she finished trying to view the contents of the display cases, she checked on the workers in the main exhibit hall, but it appeared they had not progressed far in their repairs of Ghallos’ cart, so she returned to her sitting spot and settled in to wait.

The use of her ability combined with the trials of the day left her exhausted, and she dozed. She dreamed—at least she thought she dreamed—that a ghostly Yates sat beside her on the floor. Translucent and silent as always, he revealed to her another drawing. It was a sketch of the room she now sat in. Only, in the sketch, Laurelyn stood in the middle of the room on the full moon. Yates had captured her ephemeral beauty well, which could not have been at all easy, especially with only ink scratchings and no paint to bring her to life in color.

When Karigan had last seen Laurelyn, after having led the Sleepers to Eletia, the queen of Argenthyne had bade her farewell; after protecting her Sleepers for a thousand years, she had expended her life’s energies and passed on to wherever Eletians passed on. It had been a bittersweet parting knowing that such a legend would never again be present in Karigan’s world. And yet, here was this sketch of Laurelyn made by a mortal’s ghost—all of which, she decided, was a dream.

When the sketch came to life, the scratchy lines wiggling and moving, Karigan knew it was, most certainly, a dream.

In the drawing, the winged statues rotated and the shading shifted, as though a new source of light had been introduced from above, like the moonlight in the chamber of the moondial in Castle Argenthyne. Laurelyn strode forward, the ink moving with and around her, holding her form together. She halted, and Karigan heard Laurelyn’s voice in her mind: I leave a final gift for Kariny’s daughter, the ice-glazed moon. Then in her arms she cradled a crescent moon, a scything moon.

After that, it was all gone, the drawing, the presence of Yates, and when she blinked her eyes open, she realized she’d been asleep and was now lying on her side on the cool floor. The sky above the glass ceiling was beginning to lighten with gray tones. Five hells, she thought.

They were heading toward dawn. She had to get moving before the palace woke up. She put the peculiar dream/not-dream to the back of her mind and climbed to her feet. Peering through the arched entrance, she found the main hall, though light still filtered out from the room of the workmen.

She took a deep breath, faded out, and left behind the Eletian moondial. As she passed through the main hall by the aviary of the hummingbirds, she noted a bar of light beneath the closed door of the library. Dr. Silk must still be working on his research.