"I've been paying attention!" Houdini snapped. "I'm a marvel at paying attention."

"Except," put in Doyle, "when you're preoccupied by a trick you can't figure out."

"I haven't been preoccupied!" the Magician retorted. "Not entirely, anyway. It is possible to think of two things at once, you know."

"So your pretending to pay attention is just an illusion."

"I'm a magician, not an illusionist," said Houdini. "There's a difference. But then, you knew that."

Coal looked bewildered. "What is the difference?"

"An illusionist shows people what they want to see," Houdini said, smiling down at the boy, "and convinces them it's real, even if they know how the trick is done. A magician does things that are real, and seem to be miraculous. The second is far far more work, by the way."

"I disagree with your assessment of illusionists," said Doyle.

"Was my life on Paralon an illusion, or magic?" asked Coal.

Houdini paused, not certain how to answer. Doyle stepped in and took the boy by the shoulder. "Let's just say that your life was an illusion until now, and everything that comes after will be magic, if you want it to be."

"That is such a load of horse manure," said Burton. "Why not tell the boy the truth? That everything worth having in life comes at a price. All that's left for you to decide is whether or not you're willing to pay it."

"It's always worth it," said Jack.

"Really?" asked Burton. "Do you think your friend Charles would agree?"

Jack didn't answer, but simply turned and strode from the room. After a silent moment, John followed him.

"I don't even know why the Caretakers Emeritis permitted him to come," Jack said in frustration as they climbed the stairs to the sleeping room and opened the door. "Houdini is not a bad sort-a bit irritating at times-and as far as I'm concerned, Doyle should have been a Caretaker all along. But I don't know why we need Burton at all."

"He is a Namer," said a voice from the corner of the room. In a smooth, fluid motion, Theo stood up from where he'd been reading and placed the book facedown on one of the beds.

"What were you doing on the floor?" John asked. "We've got plenty of beds."

"I find I am more comfortable on the floor," Theo replied. "It is how I have slept more nights than not."

"Look, Theo," Jack began.

"He is a Namer," Theo repeated. "Burton is fond of declaring himself to be a Barbarian, but he is a most educated man. His temper and impatience have caused him grief in his life, and closed doors that might otherwise have been opened. But he may yet become a champion of the Light, if we allow him to be."

"Allow?" said Jack. "I don't think anyone can stop him if he sets his mind to something."

"He can stop himself," said Theo. "The darker side of his own nature, which all of us share-as you know well, Jack."

"Yes," Jack harrumphed. "I do. But Burton's a different case."

"Not so different from you or me," Theo replied. "Not so different from Madoc."

"Are you saying that he is the way he is because someone wronged him?" asked John. "How do we fix that?"

"Do exactly as you are doing," said Theo. "Help him. Shape him. But do not disregard him. His choice is yet to be made, and you can still tip the balance."

The other men left the library soon after, arguing about magic boxes and reluctant Dragons, so none of them really noticed that they were leaving the little prince all alone. Again.

The door opened. And closed. Someone had entered the room.

Coal looked up, and his face broke into a wide grin when he saw the visitor. Someone familiar. Someone comfortable. Someone safe.

"It's a shame," the visitor said, "that you're left here alone while everyone else has all the fun."

"I don't mind," Coal answered. "I like to read. And they have many important things to do."

"I don't mind either," his visitor said. "It gives us more time together, and we've had some good fun, you and I, haven't we?"

The boy nodded, smiling happily. Then he stopped and frowned, curious.

"Why is it," he asked, "that you have no shadow?"

"Sometimes I do, and sometimes I don't," his visitor said. "I shall have one here if you like."

"No," the boy said, thinking of the dark thing on Paralon. He shivered. "I like you just as you are," he said, "and I'm glad we found this house."

Edmund had an errand to run for Doctor Franklin, and so he didn't go back with the Caretakers, but detoured to an outdoor market. Laura Glue, to everyone's surprise except for Rose, chose to go with him.

The men were mostly preoccupied with discussing the ramifications of Madoc's refusal, and so Rose and Archimedes continued down Craven Street past Franklin's house to the house of Ernest McGee.

"I'm sorry," Lauren said as she opened the door, "but Master McGee isn't in right now."

"I didn't come to see him," Rose answered. "I came to see you."

"Me?" the maid answered in surprise. "But why?"

"You love him, don't you?" Rose asked as the girl ushered her and Archie into the house. "Edmund."

Lauren snapped her head around, startled by the frankness of the question. At first she blushed furiously and twisted her apron in her hands, but then Rose's open and honest expression told her that there was no ulterior motive for the question. She really wanted to know.

"I-I do," Lauren answered, nodding. "I always have, I think. My mother and father served Master Elijah, and so as young children, it was natural that his grandson and I played together. But Master Ernest didn't approve. As he saw it, I was just being brought up as the next generation of Bonneville servants to the house of McGee."

"I see," said Rose. "And he wasn't happy about the prospect of his son courting a servant girl?"

Again, the blush rose in Lauren's cheeks. "Oh, no! Nothing like that!" she exclaimed. "I mean, we never courted. Edmund doesn't ..." She paused and looked around for anyone who might be eavesdropping, but the only other one in the room was Archie, who was busy plucking at a pinfeather in the far corner. "He-he doesn't know, mistress. At least, I don't think he does. How I feel about him, I mean. There was never a courtship to it."

"That's really quite a shame," a pleasant, cultured voice said from behind them, "for I do so look forward to meeting new generations of McGees."

Rose turned around and gasped.

Daniel Defoe stood in the doorway of the mapmaker's house, eating an apple.

"Well met," he said with a practiced air of indifference. "I'm guessing you are from the Archipelago," he said to Rose, "as I haven't seen any other mechanical owls in this part of the world-or anywhere else, for that matter."

He dropped the half-eaten apple on the floor, then locked the door behind him. "Let's have a little talk, shall we, ladies?"

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

The Maps of Elijah McGee

"Actually, I'm from this world, you twit," Archie huffed. "You must be one of the stupider Caretakers."

"Archimedes!" Rose sputtered, grabbing at the bird. "Mind your tongue."

The bird looked at her strangely for a moment, then went silent when he realized what she was thinking. Defoe had been the great betrayer in the war against the Shadow King. He had not only turned his back on the Caretakers, but had tried to use the Spear of Destiny to become the King of the World himself. And while those events were yet to occur, this was still the same man. Still a traitor, who had murdered one of his best friends. And still someone who could be very dangerous, if they gave him any information he might use.

"You're wiser than the bird is," said Defoe, "although wisdom doesn't help much when you're caught in a mire."

"It does if you're wise enough to avoid it in the first place," said Rose.

Defoe smiled, and it seemed warm, but there was a calculating darkness behind it. "As I said, wise. But in the mire is in the mire ... So what, pray tell, are denizens of the Archipelago doing in London? Especially at the home of Ernest McGee?"

Rose held her tongue, as did Archie, and surprisingly, Lauren.

"I see," said Defoe. "I don't intend to cause you any harm, you know. I shan't bite."

"Maybe not now," Rose felt herself saying, "but someday you will."

"So," said Defoe, "you distrust me not for who I am, or what I've done, but because of what I have yet to do? That's a pretty judgmental attitude from a girl ...

"... without a shadow."

His voice dropped to a near whisper with the last words, but they all heard it clearly. He had seen, and he knew what it meant to be without a shadow.

For her part, Lauren reacted with mild surprise to this. She probably had noticed Rose's elusive shadow, but that was the sort of thing servants weren't supposed to notice-or if they did, they weren't supposed to mention it.

"It's not what you're thinking," Rose said, stumbling for the words. "I haven't given it up, I've just ... misplaced it."

"I haven't made any judgment about you at all," Defoe said, "except maybe that you aren't where you're supposed to be-but now I think maybe you're exactly where you're supposed to be."

"What do you mean?" asked Rose, drawing back protectively in front of Lauren.

"Nothing happens by coincidence," Defoe said. "If you'll come upstairs with me, I think I can explain it to you more clearly. Of course," he added, gesturing at the door, "if you decide otherwise, you are of course free to leave."

"Great," said Archie. "We're leaving."

"No," said Rose. "I think I'd like to hear him out."

"You don't-," Archie began.

"Don't tell me I don't understand!" Rose said, her temper flaring. "This is my choice, Archimedes."

"All right, then," said Defoe. "Let's all go upstairs, if you please."

The door to the upper room swung open with a loud squeal as the two young women and the owl entered, followed by Defoe.

"It's about time someone came back up here," Captain Johnson said primly. "I've gotten very bored, you know."

"Well then," said Defoe, "we'll have to see if we can't liven things up a bit."

"Oh, shades," said Johnson.

"Remember what Captain Johnson warned," Archimedes whispered. "We can't trust him. We shouldn't trust him."

"Wait, Archie," Rose said. "I really do want to hear what he has to say. I don't think he intends to harm us."

"Clever girl," Defoe said, "and you're quite right. In fact, it's just the opposite. I want to ask for your help."

"He's lying," said the captain. "Don't listen to him!"

Before Rose could respond, a patch of darkness darted through the great round window at the end of the room and covered the portrait. The effect was the same as if a wool blanket had been cast over it-Captain Johnson's speech was almost completely muffled, and he could no longer see the others in the room.

"A good use of your shadow, my dear," said Defoe. "I wish I'd thought of that."

"But," Lauren said, feeling brave enough to venture an opinion, "you still have your shadow."

"Indeed I do," Defoe said, looking down. "That alone should tell you something about my intentions."

Rose looked questioningly at Archie. This was unexpected. If Defoe was truly the evil man they expected, then why would he still have his shadow?

"All right," Rose said tentatively, "we can talk to you, if you like. What is it you wanted me to help you with?"

Defoe smiled. "I was hoping you'd ask that."

"This is a mistake," said Archie. "We should leave, Rose."

"Lauren?" Rose asked. "What do you think?"

Lauren blinked. She'd very seldom been asked her opinion-and never as a peer. "I ... I think I could stay, just for a little while."

"Excellent," Defoe said, rubbing his hands together. "So we've just the one dissenter-but we can find someplace to put you out of the way, I think. Come here, bird."