Chapter sixty-nine

Neman Forest

 

Gwyneth knocked sharply on Bronwyn’s door.  She was even more grumpy than usual. She had spent the last night reading a report on Eth City politics from Elizabeth, and the report had been so full of dry statistics that it taken her until well after midnight to finish it. Nothing had changed in the city either, and so she might as well have just remembered what was in the previous report.

She got to sleep at just after one and then was woken at just before seven by Celia’s sirada spell. Six hours sleep was really not enough and now she was determined to get her sister up too. She saw no reason why she shouldn’t share the pain. Anyway, she was sure that it had been Bronwyn’s turn to have the damn pentangle in her room that night…

Bronwyn’s voice came from behind the door

‘Who is it?’ she said sleepily.

‘It’s me – who do you think it is?’

‘It’s really early… what’s the matter?’  

‘I’ve just had a sirada with Celia – she’s worried about Laurence’

Gwyneth could hear the sound of Bronwyn’s rapid exit from her bed. There was a brief kerfuffle in the bedroom and the door opened: Bronwyn was wrapped in her purple floral dressing gown, the one that had huge roses on it. Gwyneth knew that it had been a present from John, but that didn’t make it any less vulgar.

Bronwyn looked flustered and spoke very rapidly.

‘Why does Celia think that Laurence is in trouble?’

‘Because Boo came back, unbidden’

‘Oh no’

‘Exactly – so let’s go out and see if we can get hold of Laurence’

 

 

Ten minutes later they were dressed and outside, standing next to the Sigla, the flat expanse of rock where, except at night, they chalked out the communication pentangle. This rock was charged with magical energy at every coven meeting by a massive chyfnertha (‘aid’) spell. This gave the twins the power to communicate directly with any Hybitor council member, and, of course, with Hardacre.

It was Bronwyn’s turn to chalk out the pentangle and she did this rapidly, far more quickly than was usual. Then Gwyneth called up the link to Hardacre, and they waited. This would take longer than usual because Hardacre was not in his usual locale. The spell had to use the magical trace that he left behind him, in a similar but slightly more sophisticated way, they had always supposed, to Boo’s ability to track powerful magic. The major limitation of the method is that it could not detect anyone who did not use magic, or anyone that had not used magic where they were for a day or two. Their assumption was that if Hardacre was in real trouble then he would have used magic recently, or, even better, he would have teleported recently, which left a huge signal at the exit end.

This time, however, it was proving very hard to contact him. Bronwyn peered into the circle, her forehead furrowed with concern. The space where Hardacre should be was totally black.

‘What’s going on?’ asked Bronwyn

‘I’m not sure’ said Gwyneth, ‘something odd is happening’

A voice came out of the darkness – very high and very fast.

‘whoistherewhatisgoingonisthatbronwyninbagIamhere’

It sounded like Hardacre speeded up several times. The only time Bronwyn had heard anything like this before was at the University in Eth City, when some of her friends had experimented with ‘magic mushrooms’

‘Laurence’ said Bronwyn, ‘is that you?’

‘whydoyospeaksoslowlyifindithardtounder’ said the voice

‘Where are you?’ said Gwyneth, speaking as quickly as she could.

‘inbaginmultidimbag-youneedtospeakmorequickly’

Hardacre’s voice got higher and higher and faster and faster until it was too painful to listen to. Gwyneth impatiently scuffed a line on the pentangle and the grating noise stopped.

‘Ahh’ said Gwyneth, ‘that makes sense, I suppose’

‘What?’ asked Bronwyn, completely bewildered, ‘what is going on?’.

‘He’s inside his extra-dimensional bag. You know what those things are like: they play havoc with the time’

‘They do’ agreed Bronwyn, ‘you’d have to be desperate to climb inside one..’

‘And, of course, it’s impossible to trace properly, as it’s outside normal time and space…’

‘And clearly very hard to keep a good communication signal going’

They stood for a moment, in thought.

‘Let’s try again’ said Gwyneth, without enthusiasm, ‘we might be lucky this time, you never know’

They re-chalked the pentangle and stared into the dark space. This time the sound inside the bag had a very different quality, as if an incredibly localised thunderstorm was resident in the space. The twins put their hands up to their ears again.

‘Laurence – what has happened’ asked Bronwyn speaking as fast as she could.

Gwyneth gave her a withering stare and shook her head, exasperated.

‘Wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh000000000000000000’

This boom was so loud that this time Bronwyn kicked at the pentagram to turn it off.

‘Oh dear’ she said, ‘this is not good at all’

Gwyneth sighed, but was kind enough to give her twin a sympathetic tilt of the head.  

‘We’ll just have to hope that he can get out of the bag soon and send a sensible signal. In the meantime, we’d better sit by the pentangle in shifts, just in case’

Bronwyn nodded and settled down to sit on the stone bench by the circle. She was happy to stay as long as it took.  

‘So – it looks like you’re keen to take first shift’ said Gwyneth, ‘but first, we must speak to John’ 

Bronwyn nodded again, this time rather less certainly.

‘Maybe he’ll know what to do’ she said

‘Don’t rely on it’ said Gwyneth, as she chalked the pentangle out once again, ‘this one may not be easy to fix’

Chapter seventy

Ortia

 

Travelling back to the city had been straightforward. It was clear that the Portalians had retreated back to their stronghold to the north, and they met no patrols. They also made a good pace across the old main road in their imperial carriage.  

In many ways the journey had been too quick. They had come to no conclusion at all about what they might say to Marthian when they handed over the Emperor’s legal letters.  In fact they hadn’t even had the courage to talk about it among themselves. As far as Potentilla and Kath were concerned this was Viola’s business, while Viola craved their opinions as friends but couldn’t quite bring herself to ask them. So nothing was said.

Their return to the city, nineteen days after their departure, was greeted with great excitement and expectation, particularly when they had explained what they had achieved. Everyone in the city now knew that it was only a matter of time before the Emperor would come again and save them.

 

Viola went straight to Aurelian. This meeting was ostensibly to debrief him according to proper military etiquette, but in reality was to tell him first what was coming. She’d had to hurry to avoid an encounter with Marthian, something which she hoped to put off until she’d spoken to her commanding officer.

He was delighted to see her, but it seemed to Viola that he was more drawn and sullen that he had been when she had left.  She could guess quite easily why that was. She felt guilty about adding to his burden, but she really had no choice.

‘Captain!’ said Aurelian as she entered his office, ’you have made good time – it seems like only yesterday that you left’

Viola saluted him, but kept her feelings to herself for the time being.

‘I had a great deal of assistance along the way’ she said, ‘and that was something I wanted to ask first: what was the fate of the other troops that I led to the Wall? ’

‘Eight returned safely… but they bore news that you were trapped inside the Wall. I’m grateful that that does not appear to have been true’

Viola was relieved to hear that no other members of her squad had been killed. She made a mental note to thank them all personally as soon as she could.

‘I hear that you bring good news’ said Aurelian brightly, ‘from the Emperor, at last’

Viola sighed and stared at him.

‘Sir’ she said, ‘it depends on how you look at it…’

‘What do you mean, Captain?’ said Aurelian, concerned.

There wasn’t a moment when it occurred to Viola to mention that she had been promoted by the Emperor – in Ortia it seemed right that she should remain a captain and, in any case, she didn’t want to seem to be profiting by Marthian’s demotion.

‘Let me show you’

Viola lifted up the satchel that she had had with her for the whole journey back. She groped around inside it and pulled out the thick envelope intended for Marthian’s eyes only. She held it up so that her general could see it clearly.

‘This is from the Emperor’ explained Viola, rather redundantly.

‘Yes…’ said Aurelian, ‘and?’

‘These are Marthian’s orders – the one’s instructing her to stand down’

‘What?’ said Aurelian, astonished, but in his heart of hearts not entirely surprised.

‘So soon?’ he said

‘It’s true, sir – we’ve met her replacement – it’s some sallow career politician from Garandos, and he’s on his way here now, with the Emperor. As soon as they’ve defeated Portalis they’ll be here…’

Aurelian was lost for words. He stared at the envelope: Viola thought that it looked like he might just grab it from her and throw it into the fire. She knew that he wouldn’t really do it but she slipped it back into her satchel, just to be absolutely sure.

‘What can we do?’ asked Aurelian

‘What do you mean, sir?’

‘To help Marthian – there must be something that we can do, surely?’

Viola’s heart sank even further towards her boots. She wished that she had thought of something that they could do, during the days that she’d had to think about this, but she hadn’t.

‘I don’t think there is, general’ she said, her voice a low moan, ‘this is an order from the Emperor’

Aurelian clenched his fist. His face was red with stress and worry.

‘We could declare ourselves independent, like Amansk…’

Viola shook her head very slowly.     

‘No, we couldn’t – you know that we couldn’t, sir; it would break us apart’

‘Then we could refuse to obey…’

‘You mean rebel? Then we would be only a little better than Portalis and probably suffer the same fate’

‘But…’ said Aurelian, almost as if he were begging her.

‘I’ve thought about this a lot, sir, and there is no way out. We’ll have to give way and the Proconsul will have to stand down’

‘What will happen then?’

‘We will have to live with the new regime – you know that’

‘I will refuse to serve, captain, I will resign…’

‘I can’t comment on that, sir…’

‘Why not?’

‘It’s not my place’

Aurelian looked cross, very briefly and then his face softened back into sadness.

‘What’s the Emperor like?’

‘A military man, keen to make an impression…’ Viola faltered, ‘how can I say, sir? He’s the Emperor’

‘I know, I know…I shouldn’t have asked’

Viola was keen to move on to more practical matters.

‘Do you want me to tell the Proconsul or shall I pass on the letters to you, general?’

‘Which would you prefer, captain?’ asked Aurelian, warily.  It was clear that he would rather not have this burden.

‘I’m waiting for your orders, sir’ Viola said, wanting to do the job, but not wanting to seem like she felt that Aurelian couldn’t,‘ but let it be clear that I’m very willing to pass on the package to you if you feel that it is appropriate’

Aurelian sighed and his head bowed. She knew that for him this was a double defeat, both political and moral, but she also knew that he would have to get over it.

‘You do it, Viola’ he finally said, ‘I really don’t have the heart for it’

 

***

 

When Marthian saw Viola’s grim face she knew exactly what she had come for. Then she saw the package and her fears were fully confirmed. She put down the book she had been reading and turned to face her fate.

‘Hand it over then, Viola’ she said, ‘clearly I shouldn’t have asked you to hurry home so fast’

Viola passed over the big envelope and Marthian grasped it tentatively, as if it were hot or spiky.  She sat at the table and ripped open the paper. There were about ten different letters, each fixed with the imperial seal.

Marthian smiled weakly and then she gestured into the garden.

‘I’d like you to stay until I’ve gone through all this ‘she said, ‘I’m sure that I will have a large number of questions’

‘Would you like me to wait in the garden, ma’am?’ asked Viola

‘Yes’ replied Marthian, a little distractedly, ‘and while you’re out there you can see my new acquisition…’   

‘A new plant?’ asked Viola

‘Just go and see…’

Marthian looked out of the big double doors into the windy garden.

‘…and take my coat – it’s quite chilly out there’

Marthian spread her letters on the desk and opened the seal on the first one. Viola couldn’t bear to watch and so she put on Marthian’s coat and stepped out into the garden.

 

Viola pulled the coat around her: December in Ortia was rarely very cold – it was usually only in February that the biting frosts came – but something had whipped up a piercing wind on this particular day.  She went searching for some shelter, perhaps under the ornamental willow near the fountain.

As she approached the water feature she was surprised to see that someone had been doing some tidying up of beds and even a little pruning. Marthian’s gardeners had been redeployed to more pressing jobs in the city after the Whitecloak siege, so this was all a bit odd. Were the gardeners back?

A tall young man with white-blonde hair appeared from the other side of a hawthorn hedge, he was holding some shears. Viola’s jumped backwards and reached for her sword, which she had not had time to take off. She drew it in one graceful motion and prepared to defend herself.  

‘Barbarian!’ she yelped, pointing her weapon at the human, ‘put down your weapon, now!’ 

Erik, who could read Visneorian, but had never spoken it, was as startled as Viola. He dropped the shears, turned tail and ran back behind the hedge.

‘Speak not Visneorian good, nice soldier!’ he said, peering round the side of the hedge. ‘please not hurt Erik’ .

Viola recovered enough to realise that Marthian had played a little practical joke on her.  Whoever this was had been tidying up a hedge, not planning an ambush.

‘I’m sorry if I shocked you’ said Viola, in Ethian, re-sheathing her sword, ‘the Proconsul didn’t explain to me that you were here’

Erik was clearly delighted to see the sword put away. He ventured a little out into the space next to the hedge and mumbled something that Viola couldn’t hear.

‘Are you the Proconsul’s new gardener?’ asked Viola, uncertainly.

 Erik stared back at Viola and seemed to be wrestling with something mentally. Perhaps Ethian wasn’t his first language after all.

‘Gardener – well, not really’ he said eventually, ‘I do really like the garden though’

Viola murmured, ‘we all do’ but her mind wasn’t fully on horticulture.  She bowed slightly.

‘Let me introduce myself’ she said, sticking her hand out in what she thought to be best Ethian handshaking style, ‘I’m the proconsul’s intelligence officer, Captain Viola’

Viola’s hand was raised too high for Erik to shake it comfortably and so he misinterpreted the gesture. He put his arm out, mimicking her actions and the two sets of fingers met briefly. They both looked puzzled.   

‘I am Prince Erik’ he said, ‘and I’m just helping out in the garden for a bit’

Viola was completely lost. Who was Prince Erik? She didn’t recognise the name or the accent, she just knew that he didn’t sound anything like any of the three Ethians that she knew. She realised, however, that she had run out of enthusiasm for asking any more questions. For a few seconds they stood opposite each other, with no real idea what words to use next.

‘Would you like to see what I’ve done so far?’ asked Erik eagerly, discovering something that he was happy to say.  

Viola shrugged and then smiled. All these terrible things happening and here was a contented soul.  Maybe that was what you needed to do – have simple needs, just like Potentilla.

‘I’d be delighted to see your work’ said Viola, only half-ironically, and that’s what Erik did – he showed her everything that he had achieved, every manicured tree and every replanted shrub. Meanwhile, Marthian read her papers of dismissal through twice, very carefully.  

Chapter seventy-one

South West of Amansk

 

The road that ran south from the edge of the lake was simple enough to find using Lucian’s directions. The warehouses were hidden in a deep part of a wooded area, but were also easy enough to locate. Gerard sneaked round the buildings for a while and he found Gaius after only a few minutes. He was delighted to be rescued, although it took him some time to accept that the small army was not from the Crimson Flame Knights and that he was safe with them. It didn’t help, of course, that he still didn’t speak Ethian very well at all. Gerard had found it all very amusing – he had met elves before, in Gorodnikov especially, and he didn’t have a particularly high or low opinion of them. A lot of them were rich, however, so he tried to keep on good terms with them.

Otto, on the other hand, felt deeply honoured to have the company of a real imperial elf again. As they travelled south he kept him riding alongside whenever possible, asking him questions concerning Ortia, Monurbis and the West. He remembered fondly his elven mentor in Parkhaffen Monastery, Volterius, who had taught him almost all that he knew about the Empire, and he couldn’t resist the lure of having such company again. Otto’s Visneorian was good, fortunately, and Gaius was quite happy to communicate with him rather than having to try to speak Ethian again.  

The route down to the mountains was well marked but excessively narrow for a small army. There were delays while horsemen lost their way and had to be found again. As the land rose the going became increasingly difficult – the track that led parallel to the peaks was, if anything, narrower and harder to traverse than the southern road, and they struggled along it for two days before they came to the main road leading through the pass. During that time Victoria became increasingly irascible and impatient; it was Otto who had to take the full brunt of this anger, and every time Victoria berated the grandmaster Gaius would look very uncomfortable and attempt to retreat away from arguments that he didn’t fully understand. Victoria insisted that he stayed and Gaius became more and more puzzled.

‘Who exactly is Miss Jenkins?’ he finally asked of Otto, after several of these encounters.

Otto frowned – this was a question that he neither wanted to have to answer nor knew how to. With a jolt he realised that the truth was too embarrassing to admit and so, reverting back about twenty years, he blurted out a whopper of a lie.

‘She’s an Ethian intelligence officer’

Gaius thought about this for a second: it was perhaps unfortunate that Otto had used exactly the same title that Marthian used to describe Viola, and so he accepted the statement without a blink.

‘Can I ask what she is doing in the Pale Flame army?’

Otto realised that he was digging a large hole for himself, but he could hardly stop now.

‘We have links with many right-thinking governments who are willing to give…umm… help of different kinds’ he said, hoping that this would satisfy the lieutenant.     

 ‘I see’ said Gaius, clearly thinking hard about what he had just been told.

‘So, why is she always so cross with you?’

Otto swallowed. What could he say now?

‘We have differences of opinions about tactics…’

Gaius was just feeling ever more confused, but he felt it wasn’t his place to ask any additional questions. It wasn’t entirely clear to him at exactly what Imperial rank Otto would be placed, but it was obvious that it was far above his own.  He changed the subject, asking Otto for more details about the nine hundred years that the Ortians had lost. Otto was delighted to inform him about that historical period and at some length. In this way the question of Victoria was abandoned, at least for the time being.

 

***

 

As soon as they hit the main road again they encountered Crimson Flame guard posts. They were set up at every fifth mile post, and were made up of a few bored soldiers in makeshift huts. The Crimson Flame guards were not particularly surprised to see Otto’s little army, but there was some doubt in their mind as to what they were meant to do with them, so they told them to report to their superior officers, when they found them. Victoria stayed inside the coach and they were soon bumping along down the uneven surface of the road through the pass. Otto was also able to ascertain that there was a camp, with about five thousand crimson knights, about a day’s ride due north of Ortia, acting as a transit station from Monurbis to Amansk.  He really needed to avoid entering Ortia from that side, as it would then be clear that he was fraternising with the enemy. Fortunately Gaius knew that there was probably still the remains of a road which ran towards Portalis from the bottom of the pass and then cut downwards to create a shortcut to Ortia. If they took these ancient roads then they could bypass the Crimson Flame encampment.  

It took another day to get though the pass and then yet another day to travel to where the old north-south road was meant to be. After that there was no proper sign of a road at all and so they had to navigate southward by the sun, through bramble and broom scrub, until they caught sight of the city to their south-east. By these means they came to the south gate of the white city on the afternoon of the seventh day after they had left Castle Monurbis. However, they still needed to act with extreme caution – Otto had no idea what had happened in Ortia when the crimson knights had passed through, and neither did he have any clue whether the proconsul would even know who he was.    

 

***

Otto left his troops five miles or so south of Ortia, just west of the old Ortia – Melloreis road and rode on with Gaius and five of his most trusted personal bodyguards. His standard bearer, holding the pale flame banner, also rode with them. They saw a few isolated elven riders on their way, but none had come within hailing range, apparently being quite satisfied to ride off immediately out of range.

Eventually the main Ortians guarding units saw the approaching group and sent out a parleying formation, led by Captain Erica, one of Aurelian’s newly promoted officers. She approached Otto’s men very cautiously until she saw Gaius among them, at which point she sent her troops forward to attempt to rescue him. Fortunately, Gaius was able to ride to meet Erica and any conflict was avoided.

As soon as they had worked out Otto’s identity and Gaius had told his story it was agreed that the grand master could meet with the proconsul in the morning. Gaius rode into the city and was greeted with enormous relief, particularly by Aurelian, who had feared that he was dead.

Otto rode back to his army feeling pleased with what he had achieved, but realising that Victoria would still be unhappy with him – at no point had he be able to ask the one question that Victoria wanted to have answered. He still had no idea where Lily was. 

Chapter seventy-two

Inside a folded space, sort-of in Monurbis

 

After the strange apparitions of the twins had finally disappeared complete darkness had returned to the inside of the bag.

‘What was that, Mr Hardacre?’ asked Lily, sitting against the inner wall of the bag, her voice rather frightened. Hardacre’s calm reply floated out of the darkness. 

‘It was two of my colleagues attempting to communicate with us’

‘Why did they look so strange?’

‘Because of this space that we’re in – it distorts time – and that’s why it was so dangerous to hide away in here… as I was trying to say before the communication, your highness’

There was a moment of silence as Lily considered this. Now that she was stuck here in this weird space her adventure began to seem very foolish indeed.

‘Yes..’ she muttered, despite herself, ‘I’m sorry…’

‘These bags were never tested for human occupancy – who knows what danger you were in’

Lily felt a cold fear grip her - what did he mean ‘were in’ – weren’t they still in the same danger?    

‘I think these folded spaces are becoming more dangerous by the day…’ murmured Hardacre, mostly to himself.

Lily shivered again and waited, hoping for something more positive from the witch. The only good thing that she could think of was that her eyes were becoming accustomed to the darkness, and she thought that she could see the vague outlines of objects in the bag. This at least gave her some sense of size and space, and comforted her slightly.

‘Where did you learn spells, your highness?’ continued Hardacre’s patient voice.

‘I have a friend who is an apprentice mage. He has started to teach me a few tricks’

‘Really? A human mage in Amansk? That must be rather rare ’

‘His name is Dominic Shavosky, he’s my brother’s best friend – he’s from Gorodnikov originally; he had an elven mage mentor there; his gods-father’

 ‘Oh, I see – for an apprentice mage he seems to know a lot, though – the aid spell that you cast is quite a powerful one…’

‘He says I’m a quick learner’

 ‘Was it you who moved those branches on the beach?’ asked Hardacre, in a measured tone.

There was a moment’s pause.

‘Yes’ said Lily, ‘I’m sorry about that, too’

‘Hmm’ murmured Hardacre, ‘nothing that we can do about all of that now, of course, but I’m sure your parents will have a lot to say about all of this when you get home…’

Lily considered this: home was too far away to worry her very much at the moment.

She could see, very dimly, Hardacre’s shape get up from where he had been sitting.

‘I’m going to have to go out and have a look around’ he said, ‘you stay here while I’m gone and, please, your highness, do not do anything, or touch anything, while I’m away’

‘What will you do?’ asked Lily, terrified at the prospect of being left alone.

‘I want to see if there is any way that we can escape,’ explained Hardacre,

‘Don’t leave me’ whimpered Lily, momentarily cowed

‘I have to, but if you really need to get out then I suppose you must. But don’t do it unless you’re in obvious, mortal, danger’

‘But what if you don’t come back?’ she sobbed

‘I’ll have to make sure that I do come back’ he said, frowning, ‘whatever happens. So – just stay put!’

He thought for a second.

‘Iy might help to count – so you know how long I’ve been away...’

With that he was up and gone before Lily could say anything else – a brief flash of daylight showed his departure. She started counting – there was nothing else at all to do.

 

                                                                    ***

Hardacre crawled out from the bag and peered into the alleyway. The bag had at least not been moved and he assumed that this meant that it hadn’t been discovered. He briefly wondered whether they were still looking for him in the city, but then shook himself, picked up the bag and instantly whispered ‘ddifanna’.

The spell started to work almost immediately. His image began to bleed out, so that the colours faded. Then only his outline was visible and after that it looked, very briefly, like he was made of clouds.  Finally, he disappeared completely as did everything that he wore and the bag that he was now carrying. He made his way as best he could towards the centre of the city, hoping, above all else, that he wouldn’t bump into Kratos again.

It was clearly morning now and horses, men and equipment were being moved rapidly out of the city, forming long snaking lines through the streets. Hardacre could only assume that this meant that the Crimson Flame army was marching east, into Tlaxaca. And if that were so, then Kratos would presumably be travelling with them.

Moving when invisible is fine when the surface is flat and no one else is in the space. On uneven surfaces and in a milling crowd it could become exceptionally hard to avoid slipping up or bumping into someone. The best that Hardacre could hope to do was to find a passing cart and jump in the back.

He pressed himself against a wall at the edge of the road and waited, trying to peer inside the tarpaulin-covered open waggons. He couldn’t make out what was being carried in any of them. Having concluded that, he ran across to the next cart that went past and clambered up its side, struggling up through the cover and then dropping inside.

 

The chickens packed inside the waggon couldn’t see the human who had just jumped in on top of them, but they could definitely smell him. They all began to scrabble around and squawk, some of them even trying to do the best that they could to take off, constantly bumping into an invisible object and then tumbling off again. Hardacre dropped to his knees and tried to fend off the chickens by waving his hands above his head. The noise that the hens were making was almost unbearable and he was certain that they would attract someone’s attention if they carried on squawking for much longer.

He cancelled the spell and pulled the bag on to the floor. He opened it fully and crawled into it. He was followed by a dozen chickens.

 

***

Lily waited for a long time in the near darkness, counting softly, but she was comforted by the ever increasing acuity of her vision. Bit by bit she could see more and more of the room that made up the inside of the bag. Clearly, despite what she had thought when Erik and she had first got into the bag, the interior was illuminated by a very faint blue light, seemingly arising from some strange torch, or flame, in one of the walls. It was odd that she hadn’t noticed it before, but there it was.

There was Boo’s empty cage, there were piles of clothes and shoes, and there were books, paper and rations. It really was an extraordinary device. She wondered how it was possible to make one, and whether, one day, she would be able to do it.  She suddenly had a vision of Dom and her in some beautiful green kingdom where she was queen and Dom was her consort and where they were the most powerful mages in the world, and they ruled absolutely everyone, and everyone loved them.

She jolted up from her reverie. Wasn’t she meant to be counting? But if that were so – what was it that she should count? It would be easy to count anything that she wanted in this strange bright blue light. Maybe she was meant to count the thin blue tentacles that were now protruding out of every inch of the wall. They looked so pretty, like the waving arms of a sea anemone in a deep dark rock pool.

She smiled and thought of kissing a young man who she loved, but whose name seemed temporarily to have slipped her mind.  Still he had nice looking eyes and one day she was certain that she would marry him; if she could remember anything more about him. How strange how things slipped away, so far from friends and from home.

The Outer Void worms had found their way to the thin partitions of folded reality and were now, one by one, slithering through the walls and converging on the delicious princess. In their way they were quite cunning. They attacked from the back initially, quietly and without disturbing the flesh, and they slowly wore their victim down.  Now that Lily was numbed by the worms attached to her back and neck, the other worms were emboldened to move towards her and to find other nerve endings, the ones on her head, on her lips and on her eyes.

Lily was still counting, even though she now had no idea why. Several times she got to eight, but no higher, before she began again. Eventually she just had to close her eyes – the blue was too bright and she was far too tired.