The Perilous Sea (The Elemental Trilogy #2)

Fifteen minutes after lights-out, when Mrs. Hancock and Kashkari vaulted back into Fairfax’s room, Titus laid the Crucible on the desk. “My mother’s diary, which holds the record of all her visions, did not show me anything regarding either West or the Bane. But I can take you to see the Oracle of Still Waters.”


The Oracle’s garden was quite different from when Titus had last seen it, at the height of spring. That too had been at night, but it had been fragrant with the scent of blooming flowers and lively with the sound of amorous insects. Now the light of the lanterns shone upon bare branches and fallen leaves crunched underfoot.

“You can only ask a question that will help someone else,” he told Kashkari and Mrs. Hancock.

“Can we each pose a question?” asked Kashkari.

“No. She will answer one question a week, if it is a good question. And you can only have one question answered by her in your lifetime. Although sometimes she might tell you a little extra, if she likes you.”

“I’d like to ask a question,” said Mrs. Hancock. She climbed up the steps and looked into the pool, but then turned back to the others. “I have no idea what to ask that would conform to the Oracle’s requirements. Every night I think of the dead, all the dead—my sister, Icarus, and everyone else the Bane has murdered and tortured along the way. The need for justice has driven me all these years. I’m not sure I can honestly say that I am trying to help anyone living.”

Before any of the mages present could say anything, the Oracle laughed softly in her silvery voice. “Gaia Archimedes, also known as Mrs. Hancock, welcome. I have not encountered a great deal of honesty like yours. At least you understand your motive is vengeance for the dead.”

“Thank you, Oracle. But it does not help me with a question, does it?”

“What is it you seek to understand?”

“I want to know if Icarus was correct. If the Bane has come to Mrs. Dawlish’s house. And how I can seize the opportunity to make a difference. I have devoted most of my adult life to the endeavor and I do not want to fail myself or the dead who are counting on me.”

“I am sure there is at least one living soul who would benefit from it,” said the Oracle kindly.

“I think the entire mage world would benefit from it. But I am at a loss to name one particular person.”

“What about West?” asked Fairfax. “If we find out who is behind his abduction, that could help him.”

Mrs. Hancock’s face scrunched with agonized indecision. Titus understood her reluctance—if she only had one question, West seemed too peripheral a participant in these events to be featured in so central a role.

“Here is another option,” he told Mrs. Hancock. “Ask the Oracle how you can help the one who needs your help the most.”

This had been Fairfax’s question last spring. He had thought then she had asked about her guardian; only later had she told him what her question had been.

Help me help the one who needs it the most.

And the answer she had been given had saved him.

Mrs. Hancock hesitated another minute. Finally, her jaw set, she said to the Oracle, “There has to be someone I can help in particular, even if I cannot name him or her. Tell me how I can help.”

The water of the pond turned mirror bright. When the Oracle spoke again, it was as if the syllables issued from the very soil beneath their feet, gritty and resonant. “Destroy what remains of the Bane, if you wish to save the spares.”

Mrs. Hancock looked back, incomprehension written all over her face.

Thank her, Titus mouthed.

Mrs. Hancock did so, her tone subdued.

The water hissed and steamed before quieting to that of a placid pool again. Wearily, the Oracle said, “Good-bye, Gaia Archimedes. And yes, you have seen it before.”



“What did the Oracle mean by ‘you have seen it before’?” asked Iolanthe, after they came back into her room.

“This book, I think,” answered Mrs. Hancock. “But of course I have seen it many times; the prince kept it in his room for years and I am required to check his room periodically, both as part of my duties in Mrs. Dawlish’s house and as part of my role as Atlantis’s eyes on him.”

“What remains of the Bane,” mused Kashkari. “What remains of the Bane. What is missing from the Bane?”

“His soul,” Mrs. Hancock answered, not a question, but a statement. “A person who engages in sacrificial magic is said to have no soul left.”

“The Bane doesn’t seem to care too much about his soul, does he?” said Iolanthe.

“Or maybe he does. Maybe he began to care about his soul when it was already too late,” said Titus. “Maybe that is why he is dead set on prolonging his life by any means possible, so he does not have to find out what happens after death to someone with no soul left.”

Sometimes Iolanthe forgot that he had thought a great deal of life and death.

“And what do you suppose she meant by spares?” asked Mrs. Hancock. “And why would we want to save them?”

“I don’t know why,” said Kashkari, “but I am thinking of that book about Dr. Frankenstein—have any of you read it?”