“Easier to die, you mean.” Thalia wiped her eyes. “Tell me about your parents. Your brother said he’s running the family business now. Your mother and father. They’re—gone. Right?”
Nell dropped her gaze to her hands, which she had folded in her lap. She nodded. When she spoke, her voice was full of tears. “Five years ago now. Papa was hurt in an accident. He didn’t get better. Afterward, Mama didn’t want to stay with us. So she Traded. She’s never coming back.”
Thalia made herself say the words. “Will you lose your memory too?” She did not add, Will I? She feared she already knew the answer to that question.
“Not for at least fifty years. But yes. I will. Nat says it’s the other side of the coin.” From somewhere Thalia didn’t see, Nell produced another snow-white handkerchief and blew her nose delicately. “Being a Trader is full of wonderful things. But it doesn’t last. If I welcome the wonderful things, don’t I need to take this terrible thing too?”
Thalia didn’t trust her voice, so she didn’t answer. Nor did she ask Nell to tell her what so-called wonderful things were involved in being a Trader with no money, no job, and no idea how to Trade.
When a maid delivered the tray of food Nell had ordered, Nell left Thalia alone. Thalia had never been less hungry in her life, so she ignored the tray and explored her new lodging. Once she was finished with the quiet bedroom, her attention was drawn to the door that led to the Changing room stairs.
Thalia started down the narrow steps with caution. The air smelled moist and felt cool. There was no light, so Thalia moved by touch. As she descended, Thalia tried to estimate how deep the staircase went. Surely she would hit bedrock before long.
At the foot of the stair was a door Thalia judged identical to the one at the top. It was unlocked. Thalia entered a large, cold chamber that smelled of wet stone and river water. Like the nursery, it was windowless, but there was light. Gas fixtures in the ceiling, although set low, gave plenty of illumination. No furniture. Limited floor space. The room was dominated by a pool of water. Despite the light, Thalia found herself unable to judge how deep the water was. It looked deep and felt cold.
Shallow stone steps led up from the far side of the pool to a pair of double doors. Thalia picked her way around the pool to try the latch. Locked.
Thalia judged this room was deep below the house foundations. She couldn’t imagine where the double doors led. When her things came, when she had her set of lockpicks with her, she could find out. For now, she contented herself with pacing around the pool. She rubbed her cold hands and thought about Trading.
That night in Philadelphia, Thalia’s hands had been cold enough for pins and needles, and then they had gone numb. Just now, in the Pierce-Arrow, her hands had been just as cold.
How close had she come to Trading right there in the backseat? How much closer could she come before she’d fall prey to the manticore?
Thalia shivered. Would her whole body go numb? Would she even know she’d Traded? What would she become once she’d Traded? Would it all fade away until she’d Traded back? What if she failed to Trade back?
When Thalia had recovered her composure, she climbed up the stairs again. If she moved far more slowly than usual, if her eyes were red, Thalia felt she had good reason.
* * *
Back in the nursery, Thalia ignored the covered tray. She sat on the bed with her head in her hands until the door opened and Nell came in. “Good news. Your luggage is here.”
Nell stepped aside and the servants brought in everything Thalia owned in the world, doves, snake, props, and all. When the servants had gone, Nell handed Thalia an envelope. Inside was Thalia’s letter to Nutall and a note from Mrs. Morris.
Dear Thalia,
The police have arrested Mr. Nutall for the murder of Von Faber the Magnificent. They want to talk to you. I haven’t told them where you are because I didn’t know. The police are sure to notice your luggage has been taken away, though. If you are hiding from them, go somewhere else. If you are helping Mr. Nutall, I’ll help you all I can. Some strangers, not police, came asking for him. I think they were