Dinner consisted of sausages, gravy, noodles, and potatoes, along with a smelly cabbage dish that Tam liked and Ellea didn’t.  Having been reprimanded for reading at the table, Djaren began making little buildings with his potatoes.  “At the temple at Narmos, there is a ziggurat on a terrace, like so, and no one but the high priests were allowed to ascend to the top.”  Djaren placed a precarious piece of sausage atop his potato ziggurat.

“You had better eat your civilization before it topples, dear,” Mother advised.

“This is why no one lets you lecture on archeology,” Anna observed, as Djaren’s potato ziggurat slumped.

Djaren sighed.  “Lucky Varden Chauncellor.”

“Not really,” Anna said.  “The lecture is off.  Evidently they’ve had awful trouble with thieves.”

“Well, there’s justice.”  Djaren brightened.

Anna frowned at him.  “Some thief stole their artifacts since they arrived here.  It’s terrible for them.”

“Oh!” Djaren exclaimed.  “Kara’s here!”

“Ten to one that explains everything,” Tam said. “She was on the train too.”

“The guards were looking for a thief.” Jon glanced about the table.  “You don’t think--?”

“Good old Kara.”  Djaren grinned.

“May I remind you that no lecture means no information on what the Chauncellors have been up to in Narmos,” Anna said.  “You’re just very lucky that I’ll be able to ask Varden all about it myself tomorrow.”

“What?”  Djaren dropped a forkful of potato ziggurat.

“He’s taking me to the Berdrach collection.”

“That’s out of the question. Why would you want to go anywhere with that--” Djaren began.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be going off alone with him,” Tam said.

Anna pointedly ignored Djaren and addressed Tam.  “But I won’t be alone.  You’ll be there all the time guarding me.”

Tam opened his mouth and shut it, evidently unsure whether to be annoyed or flattered.

“The whole idea is ridiculous,” Djaren objected.

“If you can spend all afternoon with a thief, there’s no reason at all I shouldn’t have a day at a gallery with a gentleman,” Anna said acidly.

“She has the high ground, dear.”  Mother patted Djaren’s hand.  “Now eat your dinner.  I am sure Anna will be careful and intelligent in all her decisions.”  Mother gave Anna a long look, which Anna met.

“I will, Ma’am.”

“Tam will go with you only if he doesn’t mind, and you will behave like a perfect lady.”

“Of course.”  Anna nodded.  “Thank you, Lady Blackfeather.”

“Mother,” Djaren objected.

“Where did you see Kara, Djaren?”

“At the library, but—”

“Whatever was she doing there?”

“I don’t know.”

“But we can guess,” Tam said.

“Oh,” Djaren said.  “She really isn’t here to see us, is she?”

Mother sighed.  “Eabrey, must you read at the table?”

“Sorry, Hellin.” Uncle Eabrey hurriedly set down the Pumphrey book.  “But this is the most amazingly dangerous rubbish.”

Djaren looked immediately interested.

“It romanticizes the idea of possession terribly.”

“Of owning things, you mean?” Tam asked.

“Not that kind of possession.  He means like when an evil bodiless entity takes hold of a mortal human and makes him a helpless slave to its destructive will,” Djaren said amiably.

“How do you romanti-whatever that?” Tam looked horrified.

“Well, Pumphrey doesn’t consider them to be evil entities,” Uncle Eabrey said, “just mysteriously wise and benevolent spirits—”

“—who just want to borrow ones body for the greater good,” Djaren finished.

“A mortal usually cannot be possessed without having first consented to the possession,” Uncle Eabrey said.  “Unless one surrenders one’s mind in pride, despair, or even,” he glanced at Djaren, “in curiosity, no entity can take hold. This rubbish suggests that all ‘enlightened souls’ should surrender their wills and good sense to whatever ‘the spirits’ will for them.”

“So, in time, a bunch of perfumed fools might be controlled by evil entities?” Tam asked.

“I suppose that’s up to the entities.”

“If I were a powerful bodiless evil,” Ellea reflected, “I shouldn’t choose any of Pumphrey’s people.  I think he’s a just a fool.  The most sinister thing about the man is his silly moustache.” 

 “Aren’t there any good entities?” Anna asked Mother, curious.  “Isn’t there always something, to balance?”

“I’d like to hope there are, dear.”

“The good weren’t the ones rendered bodiless in the war before the breaking of the world,” Uncle Eabrey said softly.  He tapped the cover of the Pumphrey book.  “Or so the writings of the Ancients suggest.”

“So, to use the Sarvarthi terms, there is evidence of demons, but not of angels?” Djaren asked.

Ellea considered her memories of Father’s wide black wings, his beautiful serene features, and the sword of flame he carried.

Mother caught something of her thought, and smiled.  “There is evidence of evil leveling cities and civilizations.  Good tends to be, I believe, a bit more . . . subtle.  It doesn’t mean it’s not there, merely that it chooses not to interfere with the free will of people.”

“But that’s what Pumphrey is telling people to do.  Give over their wills.  We have to stop him, don’t we?”  Djaren looked to Mother. 

 Mother frowned, speculatively.  “Well, we all know that not everything that whispers in the ear or lurks in ancient tombs is friendly and polite.  The question is, does Pumphrey?”

“I don’t think he has the sense to pour water out of one his own gumboots even by examining the patent on the heel,” Ellea muttered under her breath.

“He may be worth investigating,” Uncle Eabrey said.  “We should at least discern whether his intent is benign, or malicious.  Whatever his intentions, the books he’s publishing are as potentially devastating in their consequences as anything written by Doctor Ash.”

“And that is a name I absolutely forbid at dinner,” Mother said.  “No more talk of evils until after dessert, please, dears.”