He probably would have found himself in some dark, dank cell far from the light of the sun, but because he was the one carrying around this so-called 'Daughter of Disaster', they thought it would be best to keep him close at hand for when she woke up again. It had been several hours by this point and he had been on his knees the whole time. If his legs had not gone mostly numb, he might have been in a fair bit of pain.

As for Sunny, she had been placed on this stone slab that was like some sort of ancient pagan altar. A sheet of white linen had been draped over her. It was about the closest these old wizards dared to get and even then, they used their much younger and, surely in their eyes, more expendable apprentices to do it. They observed from a distance, which suited Marx just fine. He was sure to have gotten a bit rowdy if they had tried to molest the unconscious Sunny and that probably would have gotten him killed. Once Sunny was awake, he was fairly sure she could take care of herself if prior experience was any indication. Excepting that Yang woman, of course.

He had gotten a buttstroke from the guards the few times he tried speaking up, but it was about time for him to test the waters again. The one grey-bearded wizard who led the troop that apprehended them was fairly close, close enough that he might even respond.

The guard to his right jabbed him in the ribs with the butt of his musket, growling, "Quiet, you. You want eatin'? I'll feed you your own guts if you make a peep again."

As Marx was in a mood for agitating rather than for practicing good sense, he looked the guard square in the eye and replied, "Peep."

The guard raised his musket with a mind to knock out Marx's teeth when the old wizard said, "Hold."

The guard stopped and the wizard took a few steps toward Marx, saying, "You are not a prisoner, Mr. Kaarlsen. You are our guest."

Marx held up his shackled wrists and said, "All your guests treated to such jewelry?"

Sure enough, not long thereafter, when the wizards who did not wish to leave their observation of Sunny were being served their meal, a girl was sent to Marx with a little bowl of porridge and a bottle of water.

What did they thing he was going to do, brain one guard with the bowl and carve the heart out of the other with the spoon? He knew there would be no arguing with them, so he just breathed an exasperated sigh and nodded for the girl to proceed.

The girl held the bottle of water to Marx's lips and carefully tipped it so that he got a good couple mouthfuls before she pulled it away.

Marx eyed his minders before saying, "Nah, that's enough for now. Let's have some of that chow."

The girl set down the bottle and took the bowl of porridge, scooping up a spoonful of it and carefully blowing on it to cool it off before offering it to Marx, much as a mother would for a baby. However, when Marx tasted the bland porridge, he could only conclude that either the girl had the icy north wind swirling around in her lungs or the porridge was cold to begin with and she was merely blowing on it out of habit.

After having a few spoonfuls, Marx told the girl, "You're a fair hand at this. You got a baby brother or sister back home or somethin'?"

So he just had a thing for being hand-fed by little girls, was that it? Real charming fellow, no doubt.

The girl certainly did not look like she was from Clovinia proper. Marx thought she might have been from out in Los Campos, but apparently she was from somewhere farther flung than that.

Once Marx had finished the bowl of porridge, the girl gave him some more water to wash it down, then left, presumably to go wash the bowl. While having been given some food and water was something worthwhile, what Marx was really after was an opening, which they did not give him. He should not have been surprised that they were so cautious here in the palace, but he had to keep probing. If things took a turn for the worst, he wanted to have some idea of a way out for Sunny and himself.

The guards were not showing any sign of slacking off, so Marx turned his attention to the wizards circled around Sunny. Some seemed content to observe her in silence, but as they were coming back from taking turns to go eat, impatient voices were coming to the fore.

The guard drew his musket back to strike him, but yielded when the Grandmagister raised his hand for him to stop.

Marx nodded to Sunny and said, "Wherever she comes from, there are others who mean to take her back. I thought they came at us pretty hard at Champs des Bleuets, but those were kittens compared to the tiger that came after her at that church."

The Grandmagister stroked his beard as he muttered to himself, "I saw nothing of the sort in the vision..."

The impatient wizard pointed at Sunny, asking, "And what do you hope to gain from this woman, this so-called Daughter of Disaster?"

Before any further discussion could be had, the wizards all froze like frightened deer, sensing something Marx and the guards could not. Slowly they turned toward the altar as Sunny opened her eyes. She looked around a bit, to her left and her right, seeming to assess the unfamiliar surroundings before starting to rise up. About halfway to sitting upright, she appeared to take notice of her current state, as the sheet draped over her was holding on rather precariously. Now, it was nothing Marx had not seen before, nor the wizards before they covered her up, but Marx still did not like the idea of them looking at her.

Folding her arms over her chest to hold the sheet in place, she said, "Good morning."

Sunny looked down at herself, then asked the Grandmagister, "Might I bother you for some clothes? I feel in this state I am rather... distracting."

That was one way to put it.

The Grandmagister called to one of the apprentices, "Go fetch a garment for our guest."

A few moments later, the apprentice returned with a woolen robe like what the wizards were wearing. She was able to slip it on without revealing too much, but it seemed like less out of a display of any personal modesty than it was for appearances' sake in present company. Once the robe was on, she pulled out her hair from under the collar and then sat back down on the altar.

Once she was settled, the Grandmagister cleared his throat and introduced himself, saying, "I am Alois de Montague, Grandmagister of the Imperial Circle of the Mysterium. And what shall we call you?"

Sunny nodded to Marx and said, "I have been going by Sunday."

The Grandmagister turned to Marx, who replied, "It was when I found her. Seemed like as good of a name as any."

To Sunny, the Grandmagister said, "You speak with an Artagnan accent."

Sunny shook her head.

The Grandmagister looked to Marx once more.

The Grandmagister asked Sunny, "What happened at La Miséricorde? Who was pursuing you? Was it the Visitors from the Sky?"

Did she really not know? The way she was talking to Yang, even how she reacted to the attacks at Sainte-Camieux and Champs des Bleuets, seemed to indicate that she at least had some idea of what was going on, but that was before whatever happened between her and that woman that sprang up out of the ground. Maybe she really had forgotten... or maybe she just was not going to tell the wizards.

Marx answered for her, saying, "One of the elders in Meridot, the village that took us in, he had the Gift and said we should come here to bring back Sunny's memory."

Without consulting the others, the Grandmagister said, "Knowledge. We wish to know what you know, to understand what you are. If you are truly a harbinger of disaster, we would wish to know a way to avoid it."

The Grandmagister signalled to the guards and they grudgingly unlocked Marx's shackles. Marx's legs were to numb for him to stand, so he had to settle for sitting until he got the feeling back in them.

She merely nodded in acknowledgment.

The wizards then went to work making preparations for the Arts they intended to perform. All the while, the Grandmagister continued to ask questions of Sunny, rarely getting anything in the way of an answer. Either she did not know or she had forgotten, or at least that was what she would say.

Marx had his suspicions about her ever since Meridot, but bringing her this far was convenient for him. Although she seemed to draw more trouble than she helped him avoid, he was nevertheless able to elude capture thanks to her, and her company was certainly nice to have. The cold nights were not so cold with her snuggled up to him for warmth. Maybe being a guest of the palace would not be so bad if he no longer had to worry about chains and armed guards, but he would rather be out of the Empire entirely. All he needed was to be on a train and he would be at the border in a day or two. The only question was would Sunny still be with him?

It was not like he expected them to be together forever. Perhaps now was as good a time as any to go their separate ways. This was where she wanted to be, was it not? Whatever mutual convenience brought them together, it had run its course, he would think. Part of him would miss having her around, but if it meant never encountering something like Yang again, he could probably bear it. Still, even without the guards watching him so closely, it was clear he was not going anywhere until he was given leave and at the moment, there was no interrupting the wizards at work.

It took at least an hour, maybe two, for the preparations to be completed. There was a six-pointed star graven in the floor around the altar and a wizard stood at each of these points with an apprentice behind him, while a seventh wizard stood by the altar holding Sunny's head as she laid there.

The wizard at the altar said to the others, "Let us begin."

Each of the wizards at the points of the star carried a bronze censer on a chain. Two apprentices came by, one with a firepan full of hot coals and another with a pair of tongs to put the coals in the censers. Once the coal had been delivered, the apprentices accompanying the wizards took what looked like a flattened goblet and spooned out incense to put in the censer. It did not take long for the pungent smoke to start curling out of the censers and then the wizards began to swing the censers. Marx could not fail to notice that their movements were precise, like the pendulum of a clock. He almost wished he had a pocketwatch to time the swings as it seemed to be an exact second each way. The smoke of the incense filled the chamber as the wizard at the altar began to chant in some language Marx did not know, or perhaps it was just gibberish. Certainly he could not tell the difference. Anyway, after what seemed like one verse, the other wizards joined in, and after the second verse, the apprentices did as well, placing their free hands on the wizards' backs.

Marx had never seen such an elaborate ritual like this before, but he had almost never seen the Art until he met Sunny and she was an exceptional case. Would this really bring back Sunny's memory? He had no way of knowing except to actually see it succeed. There was nothing for him to do but watch and try not to cough or sneeze from the incense that was making the inside of his nose tingle.

As he sat there watching the ritual, he could feel his eyelids grow heavy. He could not speak for Sunny's memory, and maybe it was all in his imagination, but he found himself remembering moments from his own past. Sights, sounds, tastes, smells. Feelings. Things he had forgotten, things he wished he remembered and some things he would have liked to stay forgotten.

His eyes started to roll back in his head as the trace overwhelmed him. His whole body was going numb, yet he could still sense his arms and legs twitching, like he was having a falling fit. All the while, he was drowning in the flood of memory and thought he might never find his way back, but then it all stopped suddenly.

Everything went black, but it only took him a moment to blink and his vision returned. He groggily looked around, trying to piece back together where he was, when he was, even who he was, and that was when he saw Sunny springing from the altar toward him. As she sailed past the circle of wizards, little shafts of blue light appeared, cutting through the air at all angles. Neither Marx nor the wizards had time to wonder what was happening because just as Sunny was snatching up Marx in her embrace, that blue light consumed everything.