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“All right, now do you understand?” Casanova hissed. It was always easy to tell when he was talking; Rian’s careful, measured voice and graceful movements gave way to wilder gestures and harsher tones.
At least they did when he was talking to me.
I didn’t answer until we’d moved away from the crowd, closer to a small, built-up edge of stone, near the precipice. It was only about waist
high, and the wind was something else, so I kept to the right side of the camel thing. But it didn’t help; it felt like we might both go flying at any moment.
I squatted down, and that was a little better, mainly because I couldn’t see the drop-off anymore.
“Now do I understand what?” I asked.
“Now do you understand how stupid this is?” Casanova demanded, squatting in front of me. “We need to get out of here before anyone recognizes us!”
“Recognizes?” I gestured around. “There’s got to be two, three thousand people just on this damned platform.”
“Yes, so with our luck, that should buy us about five minutes!”
“It’s not the recognizing that’s the problem,” Caleb said, his eyes on the gate. “They’re not checking everybody or even most people going in. It’s the getting out.”
“We’re not going to get out. We’re probably not even going to get in!” Casanova said, before Rian stopped his mouth with a canteen.
“We’ll get out like we got in,” I said, trying to reassure myself as much as them. “Mother said I should be able to open the gates between worlds, with or without the guard’s approval. It was her greatest gift.”
“Should be?” Casanova hissed, thrusting the canteen away. “You didn’t test it?”
“How am I supposed to test it, Casanova?” I hissed back. “Demons tend to take a dim view of people breaking into their courts!”
“Dimmer than Rosier when we try to steal his heir and then can’t get the hell out—”
The canteen was back.
“Mother said I could do it,” I repeated, slowly enough to hopefully get through that thick skull of his. “‘Should have’ was my phrasing and it was . . . poorly chosen. I’m sorry.”
I hoped an apology would calm him down, but of course not.
“If you’re sorry, then get me out of here!” he spluttered, shoving the canteen away and spraying water all over me.
“I’m not leaving him here!”
“He’s a demon lord! He can take care of himself! If he wants out, he’ll find a way—”
“It’s been six months, Carlos,” Rian said, causing him to change octaves and facial expressions midway through a sentence. It gave him a weird, schizophrenic tic, but I didn’t care. I was too busy trying to absorb what she was saying.
“Six months?”
“Time passes differently here,” she reminded me. “That is why your power doesn’t work. We are no longer in your time stream.”
“But six—”
“That is one reason I agreed to come with you. Lord Rosier has waited a long time for this. He isn’t going to lose his son again if he can help it.”
“Is that why there are so many guards?” Caleb demanded.
“No.” Rian glanced around, and for a second, I thought I saw her large, almond-shaped eyes sliding behind Casanova’s. “I’ve never seen so many all at once. It’s the only good sign.”
“Good?” Casanova asked himself. “How is that—”
He abruptly stopped when several indigo-robed guards broke away from a nearby group and came in our direction. They were muffled up more than the tourists, just sharp dark eyes and arched black eyebrows showing between their turbans and the veils they’d tucked into the necks of their robes. Which didn’t entirely obscure the no-nonsense curved swords at their sides.
