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“Not a nice thing to do to it after it saved you,” said Granny.
“It saved me by hitting him?”
“Didn't you realise? He was callin' to - them Things.”
“That's not true!”
Granny stared into Esk's defiant eyes and the thought came to her mind: I've lost her. Three years of work down the privy. She couldn't be a wizard but she might have been a witch.
“Why isn't it true, Miss Clever?” she said.
“He wouldn't do something like that!” Esk was near to tears. “I heard him speak, he's - well, he's not evil, he's a brilliant person, he nearly understands how everything works, he's -”
“I expect he's a very nice boy,” said Granny sourly. “I never said he was a black wizard, did I?”
“They're horrible Things!” Esk sobbed. “He wouldn't call out to them, he wants everything that they're not, and you're a wicked old -”
The slap rang like a bell. Esk staggered back, white with shock. Granny stood with her hand upraised, trembling.
She'd struck Esk once before - the blow a baby gets to introduce it to the world and give it a rough idea of what to expect from life. But that had been the last time. In three years under the same roof there had been cause enough, when milk had been left to boil over or the goats had been carelessly left without water, but a sharp word or a sharper silence had done more than force ever could and left no bruises.
She grabbed Esk firmly by the shoulders and stared into her eyes.
“Listen to me,” she said urgently. “Didn't I always say to you that if you use magic you should go through the world like a knife goes through water? Didn't I say that?”
Esk, mesmerised like a cornered rabbit, nodded.
“And you thought that was just old Granny's way, didn't you? But the fact is that if you use magic you draw attention to yourself. From Them. They watch the world all the time. Ordinary minds are just vague to them, they hardly bother with them, but a mind with magic in it shines out, you see, it's a beacon to them. It's not darkness that calls Them, it's light, light that creates the shadows!”
“But - but - why are They interested? What do They wwant?”
“Life and shape,” said Granny.
She sagged, and let go of Esk.
“They're pathetic, really,” she said. “They've got no life or shape themselves but what they can steal. They could no more survive in this world than a fish could live in a fire, but that doesn't stop them trying. And they're just bright enough to hate us because we're alive.”
Esk shivered. She remember the gritty feel of the cold sand.
“What are They? I always thought they were just a sort - a sort of demon?”
“Nah. No one really knows. They're just the Things from the Dungeon Dimensions outside the universe, that's all. Shadow creatures.”
She turned back to the prone form of Simon.
“You wouldn't have any idea where he is, would you?” she said, looking shrewdly at Esk. “Not gone off flying with the seagulls, has he?”
Esk shook her head.
“No,” said Granny, “I didn't think so. They've got him, haven't they.”
It wasn't a question. Esk nodded, her face a mask of misery.
“It's not your fault,” said Granny, “His mind gave them an opening, and when he was knocked out they took it back with them. Only. . . .”
She drummed her fingers on the edge of the bed, and appeared to reach a decision.
“Who's the most important wizard around here?” she demanded.
