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“Like marriage,” said Sophy. “A man shall leave his father and mother and cleave unto his wife, and they become one flesh: Ephesians, 5:31. What if — ” She stopped, thunderstruck. “What if that’s what the Oath does for the Hex City hexes? Makes all their separate power into one common pool, so they don’t have to prey hexaciously on each other, ’cause once they swear the Oath, they are each other — spiritually united?”

Yancey and Yiska exchanged a startled look, as Songbird shook her head again. “I do not think any simple vow would suffice, a mere clerk’s contract, even were it possible. Say a group of mo-shu-shi could, and would, bind all their ch’i freely into a shared reserve; certainly, they would feel no call to feed on any of their own. But neither would any of the circle be able to work any spell without the consent of all the rest, and how likely is that?”

Songbird turned to Yiska “Say you and two of your braves quarrelled over who would own a horse; would you consider it an acceptable solution to share the beast, but only so long as all three of you rode at once, all held the reins at once, so any disagreement over direction would send it in circles as you all pulled on those reins ’til the strongest won, or they snapped?”

“That would be one mightily large horse,” Yiska noted, dryly.

“I understand the argument,” Yancey replied. “Still, the New Aztectlan Hataalii don’t seem quite so constricted, at least with regard to one another.”

“But they are ‘so constricted’ with any regard to her — the Lady,” Sophy broke in. “In Mister Ludlow’s articles, his sources say not only does she feed freely on those hexes sacrificed to her in their usual devil-rites, but also upon those who break their laws, or defy her — that, by Hex City’s reckoning, to do the latter is to risk the former.” Unable to sit still, she rose and paced, adjusting Gabe to a more comfortable position as she worked her way through the idea. “If they’re all bound primarily to her, and only secondarily to each other, that would make her the cornerstone of the whole City, hexaciously speaking. So were she to be destroyed, the entirety of the Oath would collapse, and . . .”

She trailed off, abruptly excited and sickened, as she saw where thorough pursuit of that logic-chain must — inevitably — lead.

“And hundreds of Hataalii in unnaturally close company, many already given up to the Witchery Way, would turn upon each other in an instant.” For something so massive, Grandma could move with amazing quiet when she exerted herself; all eyes turned her way as the words rumbled through that motionless crack which served for her mouth, finishing Sophy’s thought. “So this must be the Enemy’s plan. For his cat’s-paw Allan Pinkerton to tear her loose from this world, inevitably causing his own destruction, along with that of thousands more.” The petrified bone-mask face grated as it turned, pinning Yiska now. “Well, then, granddaughter. If you still believe that Balance can and should be achieved for this City, then we must seek some other way to deal with her . . . and have only hours in which to find it.”

“Yes,” Sophy agreed — then stiffened, as something struck her. “Wait just a minute, uh . . . ma’am . . . how is it I can understand you, now? Has someone bespelled me after all, without my knowledge?”

The thing’s huge head tilted, then gave a scrape of laughter. “Ask the dead-speaker ?

?? she who bound your thoughts together with your son’s,” it said, indicating Yancey. “Did you think such a communion would leave no marks? You hear what he hears, only that.”

“Are our preparations then complete, Spinner?” asked Yiska.

“If the dead-speaker is ready to attempt another Call, then yes. Yet from what I gather, you may have already devised something to augment our efforts even further. . . .”

Yancey shot them a glance, like: Didn’t tell me, if so.

Yiska gestured, dismissive. “A thought, no more — that it may be possible to alter the peace-binding, so Hataalii might swear to share their power rather than merely balance it away. It would have strictures of its own, but it would allow a far safer conjunction, and could be dissolved without requiring death.”

“Not necessarily, anyhow,” Yancey chimed in. “God knows, if the plan’s to boost my Call with hexation, I’d just as soon nobody be fighting to keep from killing each other while you’re doing it.”

Songbird backed away, upright and bristling. “Wait — do you truly consider attempting such a thing? Here, now? With me? I will not!” She glared at Grandma. “You, who so recently fed upon my ch’i, how long has it been since you were weak enough to be so taken — especially at the hands of some puling old man, who claimed to torture out of kindness?” She whirled to Sophy, who blinked, startled. “You have known this Professor, Joachim Asbury; perhaps you think him gentle, well-meaning, in his doddering foolishness? He tore away everything I am, and did it as a gift!” Her voice cracked. “‘You are so young,’ he said, when we lay there in the sand, my leg broken; ‘I thought you might accept it, change more gently, become . . .’

What? Some pitying gweilo’s maid-of-all-work?” Songbird shook her head, eyes wet with rage. “Idiot! I will not diminish, or allow myself to be diminished, let alone by one such as he. Or by you, either — any of you, however urgent your purpose.”

“Calm yourself, White Shell Girl.” Yiska told her, soothingly. “None here intend you harm.”

“You have already done harm!” Songbird raged. “You came here to die in battle, like a warrior. I came against my will, vowing not to leave without my full power restored, and not to die at all.”

Yiska sighed. “And yet earlier you mocked at Sophronia Love, for fearing to be touched by magic? You must set aside your own fear, which keeps you small. I will swear with you myself, if that will ease your mind.”

“No,” Grandma declared. “You are no Hataalii, not fully, with your weapons-love and your lack of study! That would be as useless as to swear with the dead-speaker — ”

“Do you say my word is worthless, Spinner?” Yiska asked, not looking away from Songbird — and her voice, though calm, was dangerous.

“I say only that if we are to attempt this at all, it must be done between true Hataalii, not with medicine workers, or dead-speakers.” With a groaning sound she rose to full height, towering over Songbird, so high Sophy somewhat fought down the urge to cringe back herself. “If you will not do this, ghost girl, seeing the child cannot, then we must risk the working unbound, and deal with what happens as it happens.”

“’Scuse me, ladies.”

Sophy had to admit she found an odd pleasure in the others’ startlement, for though confounding expectations might win you no trust, it did at least command attention. But then again, truth could be its own compulsion — and God had put something in her head just now, plain as day. She couldn’t fail to act on it.

“Was my understanding that if we can’t retrieve Chess Pargeter’s soul from its current limbo,” she began, therefore, “our chances of thwarting Mister and ‘Missus’ Rook are much reduced — and that if they’re not stopped, the whole land, the whole world, will be ruined or destroyed. That correct?” A nod from Yiska. “Then if Miz Songbird won’t bond with you, Spinner . . .” For all her effort, here Sophy’s voice broke, but she forced herself on. “. . . you can bond with Gabriel, through me. With Missus Kloves here to tutor, I’ll show him what has to be done, and the Oath’ll be made.” She glanced back at Yancey, who had closed her mouth, grey eyes wide. “Why else was I bound to Gabe, if not for that?”

Given it was impossible to read Grandma’s face or voice, Sophy had to wonder if the sympathy she thought she heard in the creature’s next words — dim though it might ring — was nothing but her own imagination.

“Salt-man’s wife,” she rumbled, “your own beliefs say that to do this will damn your son’s soul — and if your heart shares this opinion still, he will know it. Such things cannot be hidden, when a sharing reaches such depths. Being a baby, he will not understand — will feel only your doubt and fear and make it his own, perhaps even strike back at you, seeing it as a betrayal. Knowing all this, do you truly feel Gai-bree-ell — ” Startling to hear one English name, however mangled, amidst all the transposed Indian. “ — will be better off, for putting him to such risk?”

Sophy took a shivering breath, fighting for calm, and replied, slowly: “Seeing how I was always taught that merely to possess hexation at all was damnation irrevocable, then . . . if that’s true, Gabe . . .”