Room the third
THE SÉANCE PARLOUR
The table is still set for five. The candles have waited thirty years to be lit in the right order, and they will not be hurried.
Framed beside the door, in the medium's own hand
The rules of the house
I. On the candles
The five candles are lit youngest sitter to eldest, and never out of order, or the room will know the dead are not welcome and will act accordingly. The medium was specific. The scar above her left eyebrow was also specific.
II. On the fifth chair
Nobody sits in the fifth chair. It is not left empty out of courtesy. It is left empty because the last thing that sat in it is not finished sitting.
III. On the board
The glass may be touched but not moved. The board answers questions in the order it chooses. When the board answers to a name, thank it, and say goodbye, and mean it.
IV. On leaving
Leave by the door you came in. If you leave by any other door, you will find it is the same door, and it is disappointed in you.
The guest ledger, All Hallows 1893
Who sat at the table
| Sitter | Brought by | Born | The medium's note |
|---|---|---|---|
| Miss Mary Petit, companion | — | 1868 | Too young to know better. Lit the candles on my instruction. |
| Rev. Thomas Ashe | Himself | 1860 | Prays before sittings. Prayed after this one. Louder. |
| Madame Theodosia Grimm, medium | — | 1852 | My own hand. A medium who sits her own séance is asking for it. |
| Dr. Silas Crane, physician | Lord Vane | 1846 | Measures the temperature of rooms. It keeps falling. |
| Mrs. Agnes Hollis, housekeeper | The house | 1839 | Oldest at the table. The dead respect seniority, or so we hope. |
The table is set
Light the candles
One candle per sitter, in brass holders worn to silver. The diary is clear about the order, and the ledger knows the sitters' years. Youngest first — or the room will act accordingly.
You have your own light with you — the question is which of these deserves it first.
The medium's travelling board, still warm
The spirit board
THE BOARD IS LISTENING
The planchette lies still. The room is not yet lit — the candles must burn in their order first.
The board will speak to her name, and to no other. There is a locket in your satchel that remembers what the house forgot.
The cold hearth kindles
Frost withdraws from the stone. Behind the fireback, a low arch you would swear was not there before — and steps going down, into the long dark under the house, where the portraits hang.
Descend to the Long Gallery