Zilpha sat opposite him in their father's offices, the bruises and cuts giving her face an asymmetrical look. She was almost a stranger to him, her words meaningless. Perhaps they had once been the same person but not now…her rashness had created a rut in his plans and she'd shut him out with her prayers…no, she was a stranger now. Her cries and protestation didn't quite fall on deaf ears but he simply blocked them like all other pain. He then went to Bedlam and the powder.

Echoes of Salish murmured through the room as Atticus was talking, James had to fight to keep her at bay. The tapping of the rain through the holes in the roof provided a rhythmic beat to the whispers. He needed to see properly. Once he had finished he rode his horse onto the heath and lit a fire.

Breathing in the smoke and repeating the words that would allow him to see, James pushed aside the shroud and fell into the vision; the Crow, dressed in pelts, standing in water, her face painted white and black, staring with…what? Defiance? Aggression? Hate? His father turning in a net of tree roots. The painted man, white and black, in the water up to his waist. Nan, shrouded in black cloth, hands painted white and red, at the water's edge, lifting up her arms to command all that was around her, not of the same power as the Crow but equal nonetheless.

His name echoed faintly and the Crow screamed, his father screamed, Nan smiled her secret smile and the vision was gone. Godfrey was at his side shouting of Helga's betrayal to the East India.

"I have a use for you…"

Whilst James and Godfrey met with Chichester at the molly house, Nan went about her own business. She knew the forthcoming journey would be long and she had little doubt that Delaney's plan would come to fruition…but little doubt wasn't the same as no doubt and she needed some insurance.

Approaching Windsor Castle, Nan wrapped her cloak tightly against the wind. She had forsaken her trousers and great coat for the dress she had worn to Countess Musgrove's party. Slipping silently through the corridors, unseen by the servants and guards, she made her way to the room where she had been only once before, many years ago, with her mother and sister. She heard the cries before she got to the door, a soul in torment and madness, more so even than James' father.

Knocking on the door, Nan's heart thumped in her chest. The door opened to reveal Queen Charlotte in her nightgown, Nan bowed low and waited for the Queen to speak.

"Get up child," the Queen said softly, still with a German accent, and Nan entered the bedroom.

"He's been expecting you for three days," the Queen said as Nan took off her cloak, "he knew you were coming."

She approached the chair placed near the fire to keep its occupant warm. She again bowed low as George, King of Great Britain and Ireland and King of Hanover, almost blind, almost deaf, crippled with rheumatism and madness, placed his hand on her cheek.

"Amelia?" he whispered hopefully.

"No, your Majesty, Amelia died 4 years ago, it's Mernans Trepellar," Nan said gently.

"Of course she did," he whispered again and tears fell from his cloudy eyes as if only just learning of his favourite daughter's death.

"Can you ease him?" the Queen asked, "like you did before?"

Nan sighed, "perhaps I can give him a day, maybe two, he has deteriorated so much." She brushed away the King's long, grey hair and placed her hand on his forehead.

A dropped ball of string. A maze. Tangled fishing nets. Madness. But here and there were flashes of sanity, winnowing through like a candle. She pulled, reeling them in like a fish on a hook.

"Lady Trepellar," his voice was weak but coherent and he reached for his wife's hand, holding it tightly.

"Your Majesty," she said and smiled.

"What drew you to the bedside of a mad old man?" he asked.

"Please your Grace, I need my mother's papers."

The King sighed, "My dear, are you sure?"

"It's time, Your Majesty," Nan said and leaned in towards his frail voice.

Nan closed the door quietly and left the King and Queen to their moment before the fog crept back into his mind. The simple leather roll was heavier than a coffin in her hands. Insurance.

The carriage rocked and swayed its way to Chamber House. Nan felt the air change and glimpsed the Crow reaching out for her again in the shadows.

"Not alone."

"Never alone."

"Remember."

The wind carried the whispers and the pleas towards her.

She entered the kitchen to see Lorna staring at Brace.

"They took him to the tower. Where no one will be kind enough to feed him arsenic."

Lorna turned to Nan in desperation.

"What do we do?" she cried and looked aghast as Nan turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" she demanded.

"To the river," Nan replied.

He was struggling under the water, thrashing and twisting. Arrow, the torturer, continued to pour the water over the cloth covering his mouth. He was drowning.

Struggling. Thrashing. Twisting.

Then…floating.

She was with him, saying nothing, but next to him, her hair waving like red foam in the water.

Coop stepped forward and pulled the hood off his head. James spat out water.

"What did you say? Mr. Delaney... What did you say?" demanded Coop.

"Stuart Strange…" whispered James.

Time passed erratically and she was still there, in the dungeon with him.

James was laid flat and bound beneath a metal shroud with a metal mask over his face. A small Chinese man appeared from the shadows carrying a small earthenware flask. He began to shake it.

"We are aware that you have a certain... er... capacity for pain. Which is why, we've invited Doctor Ling. His unearthly potions alter perceptions," said Coop and stepped back to allow Mr. Ling to place a funnel into the mask and pour the potion. James sank into the water.

Nan felt herself pushed aside by the encroaching visions James experienced. She didn't fight it, she would be there when he returned. She floated in the water like an errant leaf caught in a current and waited.

"Not alone."

"Never alone."

"Remember."

Coop, at the behest of the Prince Regent, finally gave James what he wanted and Stuart Strange was brought to the jail. Nan left him, he didn't need her anymore.

Crawling up the riverbank she looked like a creature dredged from the deep; freezing and exhausted she made her way back to Chamber House. She met Robert running the other way clutching a bundle of letters.

"Are those his letters?" she demanded, grabbing the boy's arm and he nodded.

"Is there one for me?" and the boy shook his head and ran off.

So, the final pieces were being moved and she was the rook; the king was making his move but needed her somewhere…anywhere on the board. It was time to choose her corner.

She closed the bedroom door behind her and peeled off the muddied rags, skin turning blue in the cold. Something moved in the shadow of the room and Nan turned sharply. Her sister, still the wizened creature that had tried to drag her down, staggered out into the dim light.

"You…called back…your power…" Elizabeth hissed.

"Return to the dead, you are no longer here," Nan ordered but her sister gave an awful and rattled laugh.

"I will in a while…why are you helping this blue eyed devil?" she said, a black tongue exploring the sores on her lips.

"Because he can help me," Nan replied, trying not to look at the thing.

"You don't need help…what is he to you?" although this creature looked nothing like her sister as Nan had known her, there was a familiar tone…one that echoed back from their childhood.

"He is a path to somewhere I want to go," Nan said.

"Home?" the thing sounded almost wistful.

"Eventually but not yet,"

"The Crow will take more from you than you think you can give," Elizabeth hissed, "you think she can give you the answers but you don't even know the questions yet," and she gave her death rattle laugh, "I look forward to seeing you suffer, sister."

Nan leant into the dead face and searched it.

"You died in fear and torment and for that I am sorry but you are nothing now…dehwelans dhe efarn," the command echoed round the room and her sister was dragged back to the shadows, screaming and spitting.

Before she disappeared completely, her sister screeched one final time, "the cholera eagle lies down with the lion…" and she was gone but her words remained.

How could Nan not have known? How could she have been so blind. Fuck…fuck, she'd taken him and still not known. Fucking Delaney, he'd made her sightless… they'd both pay and pay dearly. One sooner than the other but they'd both pay.

She heard the front door open and felt the familiar pressure of James' presence.

"Witch," he shouted and she descended the stairs.

"You were with me," he stated, staring at her and she nodded.

"Why?" he asked, almost unsure.

"Because you had to be steadfast and that wasn't guaranteed," she replied.

"Why was it you that enabled me to do that?" he was still staring at her.

"You are my path," she said simply.

"So, you walk on me?" his eyes became dangerous.

"As you walk on others and our paths are the same…for now… I will break down their houses. This is how it started and I will end it the same way," she said, echoing his words to Coop only a few hours before. James stepped back and she smiled.

"Are we the same?" James asked but Nan didn't answer.

"Now let me tell you of the eagle and the lion…" she said and he listened.

When she finished talking he grunted and nodded his head, he already knew. Nan returned to her room to gather what she needed and James opened the letter left for him.

When she came back downstairs she found him slumped in a chair, desolation infecting the room. She read Zilpha's letter explaining her suicide but had no idea what to say. The front door banged and Lorna entered full of energy and triumph from her visit to Countess Musgrove but sensed something was amiss.

"What's wrong?" she asked Nan.

"Nothing I can help with…he needs a mother's hand I think," Nan replied and left for the docks.