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moment, and what was exchanged in that glance, I could not say. “And you, Cassiline.”
    “Tsingano.” Joscelin bowed, arms crossed. “ Tsingan kralis .”
    Hyacinthe went still, then, seeing Kristof. “Why have you brought him here?”
    “The Tsingani await your return, Prince of Travellers,” I said to him. “Kristof, Oszkar’s son is here on their behalf. Eleazar ben Enokh is here for the Yeshuites, who seek the Name of God. Will you let us ashore? “
    He paused, then shook his head, as I had known he would. “I cannot, Phèdre. I dare not.” His voice softened. “It would invoke the geis .”
    “And we will break it,” I said steadily. “That’s why we’ve come.”
    “No.” His face was set and hard. “It cannot be.”
    “Then you will have to cross to us,” I said.
    Something stirred in the depths of his eyes. “You saw what happened before.”
    I nodded. “Rahab, or an invocation of him. Hyacinthe, it must be. Rahab must manifest to be banished. I will try to summon him if you will try to cross. Will you dare that much?”
    His smile was edged with bitterness. “I would risk any part of myself to break this curse. It is innocent blood I will not endanger. Summon him, if you think you can.”
    “So be it.” I turned to Imriel, and bade him fetch my writing case from the stateroom. Everyone aboard the ship was quiet as he did, waiting and watching.
    Hyacinthe frowned, perplexed, dark irises waxing and waning. “ Melisande’s son?”
    “Ours, now.” I glanced at Joscelin, who smiled quietly. Imriel returned with the waxed leather case that contained parchment, pens and ink. Ti-Philippe unlashed an empty water-barrel and rolled it over unasked, making a writing surface. I opened the case and tested the point of a quill, emptying my mind of aught else. Uncorking the inkwell and dipping the pen, I wrote upon a virgin piece of parchment, forming the acrostic square I’d studied in Eleazar’s banned treatise.
RAHAB ABARA HABAH ARABA BAHAR
    It was done, and the name of Rahab bounded the cruciform palindrome of Habah-Hu Habah, He-Who-Shall-Come, one of the secret names of the Mashiach. I laid down the quill with trembling fingers and recorked the ink, bowing to the four corners of the globe, acknowledging the One God’s dominion. “Rahab do I summon,” I cried, giving the Habiru incantation. “As the Hidden Name of the Mashiach does inhabit and summon thee, Rahab who is Lord of the Deep, come thou forth, and answer me, as all spirits are subject unto Yeshua ben Yosef, that every spirit of the firmament and of the ether, upon the earth and under the earth, on dry land or in the water, of whirling air or of rushing fire may be obedient unto the will of Adonai.” Leaning over the railing, I let the parchment flutter onto the waters. “Rahab, I summon thee!”
    In the depths of the harbor, something stirred. The ship trembled.
    “Now, Tsingano!” Joscelin shouted.
    He tried, Hyacinthe did; tried, as he had before. Trusting, haunted, he took a step onto the now-churning waters, fearless of the depths. And as it had before, the world shifted . A maelstrom opened, and something moved within it, something bright and shining and terrible. Squinting my eyes, I saw water surge like a vast wing, green and foam-edged, a roiling eye. I opened my mouth, and the Name of God was there, on my tongue. There it remained, oar-locked and tight as the moment of manifestation trembled on the edge of being. The ship bucked like a restive mount, riding the surge; I fell to my knees and bit my tongue, tasting blood. There was shouting, somewhere, from Rousse’s sailors as they sought to steady the craft.
    And then it was over, and we were still aboard the ship. The moment had passed, the summoning failed. On the shore, Hyacinthe was doubled and panting, each breath wracked with pain. “Not... so ... easy ...” he said, forcing out the words, straightening with an effort.
    In the prow of the ship, Sibeal wept for the first time.
    So be it.
    “I’m sorry,” I said to Eleazar ben Enokh. “It would have been nice if it had worked.” I turned to Imriel. “Remember what I promised,” I said. “I would not leave if I didn’t believe I’d be back.”
    He had his mother’s eyes. Imri nodded, gravely, understanding, even as Joscelin understood too, already in motion, moving to intercept me, crying, “Phèdre, no !”
    Placing one hand on the railing, I vaulted over it, my skirts trailing. Even as I