Sebastian

decide the penalty. Sometimes it is Wizards'
    Justice—the lightning they can summon that, while inflicting agony, is a quick death.
    But sometimes the penalty requires something less, and more, than death, and the wizard will send word that a Landscaper is needed for Heart's Justice.
    Nothing produces more fear—and more hope—than Heart's Justice. The Landscaper forges a direct link between Ephemera and the accused, and that person is sent to the darkest landscape that resonates in his heart. It is an inescapable punishment, because no matter what landscape the person ends up in, he must live with the knowledge that this reflects who he is, and whatever hardships he endures in that place have come from his own heart.
    But there is also the hope that a person will learn from his past and change enough so that, one day, he'll be able to cross over to another, gentler landscape.
    Most of the time, though, the person disappears into some desolate part of the world and is never seen again.

    — The Magistrate's Book of Justice
     
     

 

     
     

Chapter Twenty-four

 

     
     

     
    Lynnea closed the door, then leaned her forehead against it, not quite ready to face the empty room.
    She'd spent plenty of hours alone here, but it felt different this time—because Sebastian wasn't just out and about somewhere in the Den. He was going to another landscape—the wizards' landscape—
    traveling with a man who made her uneasy, even though she'd gotten only glimpses of him. There had been something about the wizard that made her glad the bull demons had wanted a second helping of omelets and had lingered at the table while the man had talked to Sebastian.
    Turning, she walked to the pale squares in the opposite wall. With the curtains open, the streetlights cut through the darkness enough for her to cross the room and light the oil lamp on the table by the window instead of fumbling with the candle on the stand next to the door.
    Feeling sorry for herself because Sebastian had to go away for a couple of days was foolish and selfish.
    She had plenty to do. The bag Nadia had left for her contained skeins of yarn—so much softer and finer than the coarse wool Mam used to give her—and knitting needles in different sizes. She didn't know if the Den had a particular celebration around the winter solstice, but most landscapes had some kind of festivities. So the blue skeins would be a scarf for Teaser and the green skeins would be a scarf for Sebastian. There were enough undyed skeins to make herself a shawl—maybe with bands of blue and green at the ends. And Teaser had offered to take her to one of the little music holes where the musicians were developing some style of music he swore was going to outrage the prissy prigs in the daylight landscapes—and make all the humans with heat and sass wild to hear it. Or they could both enjoy a frustrating hour of him trying to teach her to play cards.
    Since shed lost the coin toss with Teaser over which of them would use the bathroom first, she could knit a few rows of the scarf she was making for him while waiting her turn. For a man who complained about how much time she spent in the bathroom, he certainly did his share of primping.
    She walked over to the bed to retrieve the yarn bag she kept tucked under it, then paused. She pulled back the covers and lifted her pillow. Sebastian sometimes left little sketches under her pillow—
    sometimes flowers as he remembered them or faces of the people who lived in the Den.
    Nothing there. Of course, there wouldn't be. The wizard had been impatient to leave. Sebastian wouldn't have stayed in the room any longer than was needed to pack a few things.
    She pulled out the yarn bag, turned toward the stuffed chairs that made up their sitting area—and saw something white sticking up between the cushion and the arm of the chair.
    Smiling, she dropped the bag and hurried over to the chair. Maybe this was like a treasure hunt. Mam hadn't allowed her to attend parties where she might start thinking too much of herself, so she'd never participated in a treasure hunt, but she'd heard other girls talking about them. Would she start finding little sketches tucked here and there in the room?
    She stopped smiling when she picked up the paper. It wasn't sketching paper, and it wasn't new. It was a bit crumpled and dirty, as if it had been carried a long way, and the word on the front of it…
    She could read a little and do her numbers enough to