It was getting chillier. The wind howled against the darkened window. There was no good weather in her brain. She said, “We are in the River.”

“Yes,” said Abigail. “That was my first realisation.”

“This is my creation.”

“Yes. You set the parameters,” said Abigail. “We realized through process of elimination, as we each recalled ourselves in the end. You didn’t. Ortus was convinced it was your creation from the start—I’m sorry that I disbelieved him.”

That was for later mental delectation. “I made a bubble in the River, just like Sextus did. But unconsciously, shoddily…” Sextus must have thought her such a churl. It would have been an enormous relief to have Palamedes Sextus with her then, if only so that she could, perhaps, offer some paltry thanks. But to have him see her so slow on the uptake would be hideous— “Why Canaan House? Why Ortus Nigenad? To fill the hole in my memory.”

Thankfully, Pent was quicker on the uptake. “You didn’t remove the memories of your cavalier, Harrowhark. I think that would have been beyond even the powers of a Lyctor. You falsified them. You skinned them over with something that looked good.” What a waste of a woman, to have ended her life at the bottom of a ladder.

“But why make so many changes? Why is this narrative so different? This isn’t how it happened at all. I understand that … that Gideon had to be—absent, but why…”

“This isn’t a picture you’re drawing, Harrow,” said Pent. “It’s a play you’re directing. You set up a stage in the River, you pulled in ghosts as your actors, and you enforced certain rules to keep your cast on-script. But now another director is trying to hijack the play, and the struggle for control backstage is leaking over into the action out front. You’re being ousted.”

“By whom?”

“I don’t know,” said Abigail candidly. “And there are other discrepancies I’d hoped you could have shed light on. Why did you only pull some of us as ghosts? Why did the others appear as—varyingly ludicrous constructs? Lieutenant Dyas was certain Judith was wrong before she even died, that she was like a confused parody of herself.”

“I never could have called the ghost of Captain Deuteros,” interrupted Harrow. “Deuteros lives.”

Abigail leaned in eagerly. “Tell Dyas that. She’ll want to know. The princesses…?”

“Alive.”

“Their cavalier—”

“Breakfast.” At Abigail’s bewilderment, Harrow qualified: “Ianthe Tridentarius is a Lyctor.”

“Blast. It should have been Coronabeth. Ianthe never was quite the thing. The Sixth—”

“Camilla’s alive. Palamedes … enjoys extenuating circumstances.” At this second round of bewilderment, she qualified: “The Master Warden found the idea of dying inconvenient.”

Abigail brightened. “Say no more.”

Harrow the Ninth - Act Five, Chapter Forty-Three