They ate breakfast together while Corvo was asleep within the tent. Dawn had just come, but the lights overhead were bright as ever.

“I want to talk to him,” Aletheia said. She had been thinking it all night.

“Corvo?” Eris said.

“The Shadow Man. I want to talk to him. To it.”

Eris gave a long and doubtful look. “It will not speak with you,” she said. “I have tried.”

“It knew you were Corvo’s mother. It saw you as an enemy. But it doesn’t know me.”

“What would you suggest?”

Aletheia knew her idea could offend Eris. Speaking to her was always an exercise in care and thought. Though she knew what she wanted to do already, she tried to present her plan as spontaneous, inoffensive, and empathetic.

“Turn off the lights,” she said, shrugging. “I’ll sit with Corvo in the dark until it comes. We’ll play, and I’ll look as innocent as possible. And we’ll see if I can learn more about it.”

Eris clearly hated this idea. She shook her head, but she covered her eyes as though in pain.

“I should like to try the acorns first. To see if they make a difference.”

“Okay,” Aletheia said. But she didn’t think they would. She doubted if Eris did, either. After they had finished eating, she asked, “Why were you and Melitas arguing last night?”

Eris groaned. “You have found the most useless, arrogant, and obnoxious teenage infant to haul about Veshod that could be imagined. He, after showing no deference nor skill nor even education, possessed the audacity to suggest that I teach him my magic.”

“So? Will you?”

“I would sooner move to an all-earthworm diet,” Eris said. “He is infuriating.”

Aletheia laughed. She could not quite imagine Eris eating a worm.

“I dunno,” she said. “He’s not that bad. Honestly—he kind of reminds me of you.”

Eris’ brow raised. A smile formed across her mouth. “You do not mean that.”

“You were arrogant at seventeen. And obnoxious. To me, anyway. I think that’s why I brought him with me. He reminds me of you.”

“He does not! Take that back!”

“I’m serious!”

Eris’ words were outraged, but she laughed more with each moment. “You cannot possibly say that I was anything like Melitas. Not even when we first met. For one, he is a ginger.”

“Okay. You’re totally different.”

“We are!”

“Whatever you say.”

“And also, I was never useless. He cannot do any magic at all. He could not even levitate up a five foot cliff.”

“Remember when Rook had to drag you out of that bugbear cave?”

Eris frowned. “That was—not my fault. I had spellsickness.”

“Yeah. And you were useless for three months.”

“That hardly counts,” Eris said. “Although—I must confess—the command I had of my immense powers was, perhaps, more limited than… I was inclined to admit, as a younger woman.”

They both laughed, because it was an understatement. Then Aletheia shrugged.

“I just think that maybe it’s the same for him. That’s all. Plus you need a new apprentice.”

Eris rolled her eyes. “I need no such thing. Certainly not a male apprentice. Truly, I appreciate attention, but it would be a distraction during our lessons to have him always leering.”

“You could put on a shirt. Or even a real dress.”

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“I will leave those things to you.” She took a breath. “I would like to make sure our acorns are what we have come here for before we go, lest we return to the Boyar and find them useless for anything except ornamentation.”

“What do you think would work?” Aletheia asked.

“A potion, most likely, using the acorns as its base. What precisely is its power said to do?”

Aletheia tried to remember. “Cure any illness. That’s why we wanted them. The Boyar has cancer, or maybe diabetes, or—something. It isn’t anything I know how to help with magic.”

“It may have general healing power,” Eris said. “If so, ‘tis very valuable. We must experiment. I do not believe any of us have cancer, nor diabetes, but your burned arms are wounds we can attempt to heal.”

So they experimented. Eris ground one of the acorns into a powder and added it to water. The flakes of gold seemed to hang in the solution like twinkling stars on a bright night. Aletheia frowned.

“If we find out it’s poison,” she said, “no one but me will know how to cure it.”

“Good point,” Eris said. “Dorian. Come here.”

Dorian had been packing up his things on Sinir, but he obeyed Eris’ commands cautiously. “What is it?”

“Drink this.” She handed him the concoction.

He took it, weighed it, considered the substance within. “Is that an acorn?”

“It is for your arm. Drink it.”

He gave Eris a serious look, and then checked to make sure Aletheia’s arms were still bandaged.

“Why me?” he asked.

“Because we think it could be poison, and your arm is in need of healing.” Eris gave this direction as though she were the commander of an army, expecting her soldiers to march off and die for her without question.

“Oh,” Dorian said. “Is that all?” He shrugged and took a swig.

They waited. And waited. And waited still. Eris finally asked, “Do you feel changed? Diaphragmic spasms, perhaps? Nausea? Intestinal pain?”

He shrugged. “I had a headache. I think it’s cleared up. But my arm still hurts like a demon.”

Eris checked the arm, pulling away the bandage. Aletheia watched long enough to spot a nasty open wound, red and gory. Dorian grunted in pain.

“Maybe it doesn’t work on injuries,” Aletheia said. “Or maybe you need to swallow the acorn whole. I don’t know.”

A few moments passed in thought.

“I will be back,” Eris said.

She was, this time with golden flakes ground from an acorn in her palm. She placed them on a bandage and wrapped it around Dorian’s injured bicep. She massaged the wound once it was covered.

Dorian grunted again. “Damn it, woman. What are you doing?”

“Do not make me restrain you. It is for your own good.” Eris held him in place, and although he resisted at first, he soon relaxed. “How do you feel?”

“It stings,” he said. “But—not as bad as it was, I’d say.”

Eris used a small flame on her fingertip to cut instantly through the linens. They fell to the ground, revealing an arm that had nothing but a scar.

Dorian flexed.

“Huh,” he said. “Would you look at that?”

The experiment was repeated on Aletheia. Eris made a salve for her from the acorn and applied it across her wounds. They stung badly for a moment, but the burns, bright red and weeping for the last half-day, quickly paled. Some of the skin along her wrists peeled off, but after that, she felt nothing but her normal arms again.

Eris grinned. “I think we have what we came here for.”

They started on the road north. Aletheia still worried they would be too late. The Boyar was very sick when they saw him—bedridden, all but comatose. He was an aristocrat, and while she knew he was just one man, with privilege and authority, he was hardly any older than her. He did not deserve to waste away and die. She would save him.

But Eris had other concerns.

“If you are so worried, become an eagle and fly these acorns to him in Bahaty,” she said. “I have taught you Polymorph.”

Aletheia did know the spell, technically. But she hated using it. Shapeshifting was among the most dangerous of all forms of magic. However tempting it was to turn oneself into a mouse or a bird or a lion for some task or another, the risk of permanent disfigurement was high. They were not in enough of an emergency to warrant Polymorph yet.

“Or, allow me to use it on you,” Eris added.

“No. No—I just—never mind. You’re right. Let’s do it tonight.”

“It” was the plan to meet the Shadow Man, and to see if the acorns had cured Corvo. After two days had passed and neither Aletheia nor Dorian showed any signs of injury, she prepared a potion for him to drink.

The idea had seemed plausible, if unlikely, at first. But now that they were prepared to do it, Aletheia thought it was ridiculous. This wasn’t going to work. Eris was wasting her time, and a precious reagent.

But she was desperate for any idea, so she brought the potion to Corvo.

“I don’t want to drink it,” he said. “I’m not thirsty.”

“It is medicine,” she said. “You must drink it.”

“No I don’t!”

Aletheia took the concoction and took a sip. “I’ll drink it if you don’t want it. Mm. It’s really good.”

“You can have it,” Corvo said, with much derision.

He was too smart for his own good. She smiled and took the glass from her mouth. “You got me,” she said. “But you have to drink it anyway.”

He pouted. It was a look with enough power to make Aletheia do nearly anything. Corvo was painfully cute. But she held steady, and finally he took the potion from her.

He drank a few sips. The rest in his mouth was spit out, and the glass was handed to Eris.

“Eris,” Aletheia said. “This isn’t going to work.”

“There is only one way to be sure,” Eris said. “We will have to lure it out, as you said. I will wait nearby and pretend to be asleep. If it does not come out to see you, it may be gone. And if it does… you will learn from it what you can, and drive it away the moment it threatens you.”

“Aletheia is going to meet the Shadow Man?” Corvo said.

“She is,” Eris said. “You will introduce her.”

“I don’t want to,” he whispered. “He’s scary. You told me I couldn’t play with him.”

“It is okay to play with him, so long as I or Aletheia are there. It—he will not harm you, if we are present. But you must do precisely as we say. Yes?”

Corvo nodded. Eris hugged him.

“Do not fret, my little crow. You may stay up late tonight. Aletheia will do whatever you want with you, is that not right?”

“That’s right,” Aletheia said. “Anything you want.”