Of Midnight Born by Lisa Cach

of unknown goods occupying it now, pushed up against one wall. Underhill went through the door in the corner, the one that opened onto the stairs that led to the tower room. He seemed to sense her presence, if only just, peering twice over his shoulder and hastening his step as he went through the door and began to climb the spiral staircase.
    Serena followed, then stopped at the top of the stairs, taken aback by what she saw as Underhill set the candle upon the desk in the tower room.
    What madness was this?
    Taking up half the room was a contraption of polished brass made up of slender arms and balls. As Underhill bumped against it, the balls began to drift about each other, reflecting glimmers of candlelight.
    She took a few steps into the room, her eyes going from the spiderish contraption to a thick cylinder of brass atop a wooden tripod placed near the window. Then she saw the maps hanging upon the walls.
    Only they were not maps of the land, she saw as she camecloser. They were charts of the heavens. She could see the bright points of the Bear, and the Hunter, and the other constellations she had learned to find her own names for over the centuries of watching their turnings through the night sky.
    A shiver ran up her spine and she crossed herself, something she had not done since she had lived. God help her, Woding was an astrologer. He knew the secret workings of the universe in ways she could only guess at, and was likely capable of wielding great powers, for good or evil. It had been the astrologers of Paris who had unlocked the cause of the Pestilence, finding its origins in the conjunctions of the planets, and she was certain that any man who could divine such a truth could also own some control of it.
    She remembered the way Woding had sidestepped his sister’s bleatings, deflecting her to other topics or humoring her. She remembered the way he bribed servants to work hard. She had thought him weak. Was he crafty instead, allowing others to underestimate him? Did having a household of men in some way increase his power?
    Underhill had gone up the steep wooden stairs at the side of the room, pushing open the hatchway at the top. Serena followed with trepidation, her long skirts gathered in one hand as she half floated, half-climbed behind him.
    “Mr. Woding?” the servant, ahead of her, said as he came out onto the roof of the tower.
    “Yes, Underhill, what is it?” came Woding’s voice. It was deep, soft, and mildly surprised. She heard no annoyance at being intruded upon.
    “Sorry to disturb you, sir. Is everything all right?”
    Serena gained the top of the tower, standing still a moment as she tried to make sense of what she saw: the man supine in his chair/bed, the dim red lamp, the table and papers. Recalling the charts upon the walls below, she tilted her head back and took in the vast night sky, shimmering with stars.
    “I might ask the same of you. I thought you had gone to bed,” Woding said.
    “There was…ah…a disturbance, sir.”
    There was movement on the other side of Woding’s couch, and then the shadowed head of his hound appeared. A low growl emanated from his throat.
    Serena made a face at the beast, knowing that at least with the animal she had the advantage. “Growl all you want, you heaping pile of dog meat,” she said, knowing that only the hound would hear her. “’Twill only serve to aid me.”
    “Otto, hush,” Woding commanded gently. The dog’s ears flattened, and he gave a discontented whine, shifting on his haunches. “What type of disturbance?”
    “I awoke to knocking, thumping sounds coming from your chamber, as if someone were pounding against the wall. When I went to investigate, fearing you were in some distress, there was no one there and the noise suddenly ceased.”
    Serena went to stand beside Otto, consciously making herself solid, albeit still invisible. She reached down and scratched round the base of his ears, knowing how her presence and contact