The hallways were dark and lit by torches. Horse head statues hung from the tops of the walls. The black masonry to the party’s sides absorbed the orange light from the flames, and their shadows seemed to be swallowed whole by stone. Sometimes Corvo saw a hint of movement, and in it he feared the Shadow Man; but they moved quickly, and no single shadow lingered for long.

Mother kept a hand on his shoulder, guiding him forward.

“This way,” the man in armor said.

He led them around a tight bend, up a flight of stairs, and into another corridor. They passed some sentries playing cards and others at small windows, gazing down at the sea. The smell of salt was very strong here, and no matter where they were in the labyrinthine halls, the distant roar of waves followed.

They reached a garden. The low ceiling pulled away to reveal cloudy skies. Planters formed a cross in an area between the walls, set within arches, blooming with green and red and gold. Corvo had never seen any plants like these before. Some had spines like cactuses but branches like trees. One shrub had leaves likes rubies. A large cactus with two arms was completely white.

Once they had all had shuffled into the open, the man in armor turned.

“Her Ladyship will be with you,” he said. “Please, be idle.”

Melitas and Dorian sat down on nearby benches. Trito stood silently. Aletheia stared into the white cactus with a sad expression, and Corvo went to ask her what was wrong. But before he had taken a step, Mother grabbed him by the collar.

“Now is not the time to snoop, Corvo,” she said. Her words were affectionate but severe. She tugged him back to her legs, where she wrapped her arm around his chest. “You and I will stay together.”

Aletheia looked back at them. For a moment she seemed to scowl, or maybe even begin to cry, but she smiled when she saw Corvo.

She sat down on the ground next to him, atop Mother’s feet, and said, “Last time she made us wait half an hour.”

“I should hope she is more considerate, given the circumstances,” Mother said.

“They haven’t exactly greeted us with trumpets and a ball, have they?” Melitas said.

“Were you expecting trumpets?” Dorian asked him.

“A bugle, maybe. At least,” Melitas said.

“The Veshod have neither,” Trito said. “And the playing of a balalaika is too melancholy for a hero’s return.”

“A what?”

“A hero’s return,” Corvo said. He didn’t quite understand what this meant either, but the words seems obvious to him.

Trito smiled and nodded sagely. Melitas shook his head, and he was going to respond, when four more guards entered from beneath a dark archway, led by the first man who had led them across the bridge.

He put his hands behind his back and addressed them all generally:

“Your arms,” he said, accent still very thick. “Surrender them.”

Corvo liked having arms and found this instruction puzzling, but soon found the people around him taking off their swords, handing over their bows, and throwing aside their weapons.

Mother was last to comply.

“I would not need my staff to destroy this place,” she said to the armored man. “Must we play this game?”

“Her Ladyship was very specific. The staff also.”

Mother sighed and rolled her eyes. But she gave in, and she handed the staff over.

The guards departed with their weapons to some armory.

“Heroes are usually best seen with their weapons,” Dorian said. “That’s why they’re heroes.”

“Yes, it does seem rather unusual,” Melitas said. “I mean—after all—there’s hardly a saner and less maniacal party of adventurers in Veshod. Why might they be concerned for us to be armed?”

“I can’t imagine,” Trito said.

Aletheia was standing now. Corvo tugged on her sleeve.

“Aunt Ally,” he said, “will I get in trouble?”

“Why would you get in trouble?” she said.

He stared at her, the answer seeming obvious to him, before at last hanging his head in shame.

“I still have my arms,” he whispered.

She and Mother shared a smile. Aletheia kissed him on the forehead.

“It’s okay. I don’t think they’ll mind.”

Then the guards reappeared. More followed, two along each of the four entrances to the garden, until finally the armored man emerged.

“Her Ladyship, Rada Aleksandrovna,” he said, and he stepped aside to make way.

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A woman emerged.

She wore a white dress chequered red. Along the waist and down her thighs were embroidered lines of gold, and the wrists and shoulders were also gold, in floral patterns. Her head was wrapped in a red, white, and gold hat, similar to several Corvo had seen on women in town. He found it very peculiar.

She was not terribly old, nor did she look like a “mutant.” She was blonde and severe, and she considered the party before her with completely unreadable seriousness.

Aletheia bowed. Trito did the same, and Dorian and Melitas, and finally Mother. She motioned for Corvo to do as she had, but before he could make sense of her command, the woman opened her arms.

“Aletheia,” she said. “Tell me you bring good news?”

She had no trace of any accent. She seemed to speak flawless Kathar. Mother must have quickly cast a translation spell over the party, or at least on Corvo. She did not want him to miss the conversation that followed.

Aletheia nodded and embraced the woman, Rada Aleksandrovna, in a long hug. She said, “Good news. We think we have what we need. Take us to him.”

Rada Aleksandrovna nodded. She gave one last look to Eris, then led Aletheia into the corridor from where she had emerged. Mother followed quickly after her, and with her came Corvo and the rest.

The castle’s upper stories reminded Corvo more of the places he had grown up in. Tapestries of men on horses hung from the walls, and rugs were now underfoot. The sea was louder here, and windows were common enough for torches to be unnecessary during the day. All the black stone around them was bathed in gray light from the clouds.

“How is he?” Aletheia asked as they walked quickly.

“He slipped into a coma not long after you departed,” Rada Aleksandrovna said. “But his heart is still beating. I check every hour.”

“What is the nature of this affliction?” Mother asked.

“Who are you?” Rada Aleksandrovna asked.

“Her name is Eris,” Aletheia said. “She found the Oak for us, after we killed the Hydra.”

“Is she a healer, too? I saw her eyes—”

“I am not a healer,” Mother said. “But I have dealt with incurable illnesses in the past.”

Rada brought them into a room with a circular basin at its center. Before it, on three pedestals, were the busts of huge animals lit from above by blue light. From left to right they were a bear, a lion, and a horse, carved from white stone and so lifelike that, at a glance, Corvo thought they were alive.

The blue light pulsed and glowed but seemed to have no fuel.

Rada Aleksandrovna stepped to the basin and gazed down at her reflection. She whispered something very quietly and kneeled down to the water within.

Then nothing happened.

“What’s she doing?” Corvo asked loudly.

Mother jerked him sideways, a scolding but harmless gesture, and whispered, “Not now.”

But Rada Aleksandrovna stood and turned. She smiled to see Corvo, and said, “That’s all right. I know the men of Koilados do not share our traditions. I was praying.”

“Why?” Corvo said.

“Because some things are out of our control,” she said, somewhat surprised at his response. “So we ask the Lioness for luck.”

“That’s not a real lion,” he said.

“Have you not taught your son to pray?” Rada Aleksandrovna said.

“Of course not,” Mother said. “And there is no need for luck. We will cure your son. Please, take us to him.”

She nodded, and they continued on their way. They passed a library with countless stacks of tomes. They met servants and more guards on watch. Rooms for guests had been prepared, and Corvo thought he smelled dinner down another wing.

He was always hungry. But that scent had him especially so.

They reached a large door built within a square frame. The frame was wooden and did not match the ancient stone around it. Rada Aleksandrovna stopped with a hand on the handle.

“There is not much space,” she said slowly. She looked to the three men. “You’ll have to wait outside.”

“Corvo will come with me,” Mother said.

“I have magic,” Melitas said. “If the Shadow Man were to come, I’d keep him away.”

“Corvo will come with me,” Mother said again.

Rada Aleksandrovna nodded. She opened her mouth as though to speak, but instead returned to the door.

She pulled it open, and Aletheia, Mother, and Corvo stepped inside.

The Boyar was very thin. He lay with his eyes toward the ceiling, closed, in a bed of rich silks. The room was small but had fresh air, very salty, that poured in through six opened windows along the walls.

He was arranged carefully on the bed, entombed within sheets. Around him had been placed countless offerings that Corvo did not recognize, except that among them were statuettes of animals. Some were blobby and malformed, but others were as intricate as the statues in the room with the basin. They would have made excellent toys.

Corvo had to stand on his tiptoes to get a better look at the Boyar’s face. He had long, light brown hair and seemed young, but age meant little to Corvo. Rada Aleksandrovna walked around the side of the bed, brushing the hair from his forehead, and leaned down at his side.

“Stay still and nearby,” Mother said. “We must get to work.”

Corvo backed up to the wall and got out of the way.

He had no real idea of what he saw next. Mother’s eyes flashed white with a spell as she held the Boyar’s sternum, and Aletheia used a needle from her sack to draw his blood into her palm.

Rada Aleksandrovna looked just as lost as Corvo did.

“Do you think it’s the same curse?” Aletheia asked.

“I think it is similar,” Mother said. “We are lucky it has not spread.”

“Spread?” Rada Aleksandrovna said. “What do you mean?”

Mother ignored her. “I detect a trace of mana in his blood.”

Aletheia frowned. “I don’t.”

“It is very faint. But it is no wonder that you were unable to treat him. It took me months—nearly half a year—to find a cure for an affliction like this one previously.”

“Previously? You meant there are others?” Rada Aleksandrovna said.

“The Queen of Verarszag was sick,” Aletheia said. “Eris found a cure for her. Do you think—”

“No,” Mother said quickly. “You made the right decision. It would take months to synthesize a new cure, and even then, the queen was far less ill than your son is now. We will use the acorns.”

What followed felt like it took an eternity. Mother and Aletheia used a small desk in the room to prepare a potion. They took one and ground it into fine golden dust, which they added to a red glass that Aletheia had in her backpack. The mixture was stirred thoroughly by Aletheia while Mother continued to observe the Boyar.

Corvo found it all horribly boring. He wanted his mother to help this man if she could, of course, but he also wished he could be outside, playing on the beach or with his warrior, or making friends with the children in the village. He would be happy just to explore this strange castle on his own, but for the Shadow Man.

But he understood why he had to stay with Mother. And as the sun set and the sea beyond the windows disappeared into black, he remembered the Shadow Man more vividly, and he decided that waiting was not so bad after all.

Finally the moment came. Aletheia cast a final spell over the potion and brought it to the Boyar’s lips. She tilted it upward, and very, very slowly the mulch drained into his throat.

Corvo rose to stand at Mother’s side and watch what happened next. Rada Aleksandrovna covered her face and began to cry, and Aletheia looked far more nervous than usual. Only Mother was calm, unflinching as the vial was emptied.

Nothing.

Rada Aleksandrovna’s tears became louder. She collapsed against her son and put her head in his shoulder. Aletheia sank to the side of the bed.

“How long should it take?” she said. “My burns—it was instant.”

“Be patient,” Mother said.

But Aletheia covered her face. Rada Aleksandrovna shook her head, now wailing, but Mother did nothing. She waited for a long time. Corvo hated the noise. He had to cover his ears.

Then the Boyar opened his eyes.