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I nod slowly, deciding. “OK.” Beranabus breaks into a smile. “But you’ve got to agree to help me even if I can’t find the Kah-Gash.”
The magician’s smile vanishes. “Why wouldn’t you be able to find it?”
“I don’t know if I can search for objects. Maybe I can only open windows to people or demons. If I can find it, I will. But if I search and I can’t, I want your word that you’ll still help me.”
Beranabus considers that. “Very well.”
Solemnly, seriously, we shake on the deal. And I try hard not to think about the legend of Faust.
I move apart from the others. Study the patches of light, all sorts of sizes, shapes and colors. I try not to dwell on the deal. I have to put Art’s needs before my own, then hope for the best later.
And if you have to spend the rest of your life in servitude to Beranabus? a voice says within me.
I can’t worry about that now. What will be, will be. Art first — after the Kah-Gash.
I’m not sure how to look for it, since I’ve no idea what exactly it is that I’m searching for. I run the name through my thoughts, studying the lights, hoping some will pulse. But they don’t.
I clear my thoughts and try another approach. I think about an object — a tree that I used to climb when I lived in the city. Dozens of lights pulse. I let the image of the tree fade, wait for the lights to return to normal, then experiment again, this time trying to think of an object I’m not familiar with.
It’s not as easy as it sounds. I think of famous buildings, cities, Mount Everest. But while I haven’t been to those places, I have an image of each inside my head, and when that image pops up, the lights start pulsing.
“Tell me the names of some strange places or things that I won’t know about,” I say to Beranabus and the others.
“Why?” Beranabus asks.
“Just do it. Please. It’s important.”
“The Taj Mahal,” Sharmila says.
“No. I’ve seen pictures of that.”
“My bedroom,” Dervish says with a laugh.
“No. Something specific, with a unique name.”
There’s a pause, then Beranabus says softly, “Newgrange.”
“Perfect!” I haven’t the slightest idea what that means. Focusing on the word, I stare at the lights and murmur, “Newgrange, Newgrange, Newgrange.” I keep repeating it, mind blank of images, having only the name to work with.
Several lights pulse, then others, and more drift towards me from points farther away. I slot the patches together. When a deep blue window forms, I ask Beranabus to step through with me.
“Why are we going to Newgrange?” he asks.
“I’m testing my powers.”
As soon as we emerge, I know we’re back in the real world. It’s a grey, wet day. Ahead of us stands a strange st
ructure, a long white brick wall with a doorway in it, a grass mound for a roof.
“Is that Newgrange?” I ask.
“Aye,” Beranabus says, a soft smile on his lips. “It was built by the Old Creatures, beings of amazing magic. They kept this world safe from the Demonata for thousands of years. When they moved on, their power passed with them, leaving us open to attacks. I resented their passing when I was younger, but now I think they had to leave, that humans have a destiny of their own, which they must follow by themselves.”
I don’t really understand that, but it doesn’t matter. What I know is that I can use the lights to search for objects that I’m not familiar with. Armed with that knowledge, I retreat through the window, to search once again for the mysterious Kah-Gash.
I spend several minutes running the word through mythoughts, but the lights don’t respond. Not even a shimmer.
“Does the weapon have another name?” I ask Beranabus.
