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NADIA falls silent. She squats with her face averted. Raz and Sharmila look anxious and move away to discuss the revelation in whispers. I stay where I am, watching Beranabus work. I’m not that disturbed by Nadia’s prediction. This is all crazy anyway. Death’s only to be expected in a place like this.
Beranabus is having difficulties with the window. The patches of light are slotting into place, but slowly. And while most of the patches he’s joined together are pulsing at the same rate, some aren’t. If he could see the lights, it would be simple, but he can’t. He has to create the window using complicated, time-consuming spells.
I can’t understand why the magician and the others can’t see the lights. They’re more powerful and experienced than me. So why am I the only one who can view the assembly of the window?
While I’m pondering that, a few more patches of light slot into place. A shimmer runs through the panel. The various colors vibrate a few times in unison. Then they all turn yellow and stop pulsing.
“Ah!” Beranabus grunts. He turns, claps his hands to get everyone’s attention, then waves at the window of yellow light, now visible for all to see. Raz and Sharmila approach with suspicion. Nadia hangs back.
“Do you know what is through there?” Sharmila asks.
“Another world,” Beranabus says.
“Can you be more specific?”
He shrugs. “I was searching for Cadaver, not a specific world. Until we pass through the window, I’ve no way of telling where we’ll emerge.” He raises a bushy eyebrow. “Nervous, Miss Mukherji?”
“Nadia told us about her vision,” Raz mutters, gaze lowered. “About the Kah-Gash and your quest. She said there would be fighting and death.”
Beranabus snorts. “That girl should learn to keep her mouth shut.” He glares at Nadia, then shrugs. “You chance death every time you face a demon. That’s nothing new.”
r /> “But we have been told that on this occasion it definitely lies in wait,” Sharmila says. “That is different.”
“Not really,” Beranabus says. “Nadia has no idea who will die. It could be anyone — you, her, me, the boy. Maybe it will be all of us.” Beranabus looks at the window and scowls. “You can quit if you wish. I’ve no time for cowards. But consider this — the Kah-Gash can destroy a universe. If you withdraw, and the piece of the weapon we’re chasing falls into the hands of the Demonata...”
“You really believe the Kah-Gash exists?” Sharmila asks.
“Aye.”
Sharmila and Raz share an uneasy glance, then Raz nods, followed — after a pause of several seconds — by Sharmila.
“How about you, Fleck?” Beranabus turns his small dark eyes on me. This is the first real close look I’ve had of him. His skin is pale but covered in dirt and grime. Lots of wrinkles, and a few old scars and blemishes. Untidy black hair, clumps of grey and white, his beard trimmed unevenly. His hands are clean, in contrast with the rest of him, but the tight flesh around his knuckles is covered by lots of blotches and faded scar marks. Dusty, dirty clothes. He wears a small flower in a buttonhole on his jacket, which looks pathetically out of place. Several of his teeth are missing, and the rest are crooked and rotten. He smells bad, like something that has half decomposed. I don’t like him, and I don’t trust him. But he’s the only hope I have of finding Art.
“I’m coming,” I say, trying to sound more positive than I feel.
“Then it’s decided,” Beranabus says, and steps through the yellow window. Sharmila follows, then Nadia — reluctantly, chin low.
Raz claps me on the back. “After you.”
I face the window of yellow light. Think about the demons that might be waiting on the other side. Take a breath. Hold it. Step through.
A desert world. It’s night, but lots of stars are glittering, so I can see clearly in all directions. Beranabus is magically searching for Cadaver, standing very still, eyes closed. After a few minutes he shakes his head. “He’s been through here but didn’t stop.” Rolling his shoulders, he spits on his hands, scuffs the sand with his feet, then starts on another spell, to open a new window and follow the demon to whatever world it fled to next.
The patches of light around us are glowing steadily when Beranabus begins. Soon after he starts searching for Cadaver, several pulse and move towards a spot ahead of him. As he chants, more pulse, and others drift in from afar to be added to the patchwork panel. Beranabus is piecing them together with spells. But if he could see them like I could, and move them directly by hand...
I think about offering my help, but I’m afraid he’ll laugh at me, so I keep my idea to myself. After a while I realize it’s been ages since I ate or drank, yet I don’t feel hungry or thirsty. I mention this to Raz, who’s lying on the sand close by, idly gouging out shapes with a finger.
“I noticed that too,” he says. “And although I have been here a day or two, I don’t feel sleepy. Our bodies must work differently in this universe. It is a place of magic, and you can do many incredible things with magic.” He waves a hand over the sand and a sandcastle slowly thrusts upwards, turrets, a moat, tiny sandy guards on the ramparts.
“Cool!” I gasp. “Do you think I could...?”
“Try,” he says. “I didn’t know I could do that until just now.”
Excited, I sit and think about a castle even bigger and grander than Raz’s. I wave a hand over the sand, summoning my masterpiece.
Nothing happens.
Disappointed, I decide I’m being too ambitious, so I picture a smaller castle, with fewer turrets and troops. Again, nothing happens. I keep lowering my expectations, demanding less and less, until finally I ask for the simplest sandcastle possible. The sand ripples, then spits up a meager glob.
