another handhold and then, with his legs bicycling from the exertion, he had the last one and was across. Gerhard dropped onto his back on the second platform.
“You made it!” Jane said. “You’re there!”
He crawled away from the edge and dragged himself up. “Thank you, Jane.”
“What do you see?”
He walked in a slow circle around his platform. At last, he said, “Nothing.”
N othing?”
“I can see another wall and a platform with a door, but it is too far away, and there are no handholds.” Gerhard slumped to the ground. “But even if there were,” he said, “I can’t climb anymore.”
“There must be handholds,” she said.
“Nope.”
This doesn’t make sense, Jane thought. Why is that platform there? Is this a joke? A trial by fire without fire—just a long, long drop…
Wait.
Jane dug the envelope out of her pocket. The writing glowed.
Three Spells Inside,
One for Fire, One for Escape,
And One to Make the Evil One Break.
One for fire, Jane thought, and she took out the papers. There was shiny writing on one of them. Just two words: Ignatio vate . That sounded familiar for some reason. Jane put the two blank sheets and the envelope away again, and she raised the Ignatio vate paper.
Gerhard called, “Jane, what are you doing?”
She waited. Nothing happened. “Um…”
“What is that in your hand?”
Grandma Diana said these words, Jane thought. She said them when she fought the Raven King in our living room. “I’m not sure,” she said. “It’s a spell, I think. It says, Ignatio vate —”
Fire burst from the paper in tendrils that splashed along the walls and swirled like a river of fast-moving lava. The spell paper burned to ash, but the fire didn’t go away.
She saw the path.
A narrow glass walkway extended from the left side of the platform, zigzagging along the walls, all the way to the opposite door. Even in the swirling heat and light, Jane couldn’t see the bottom of the pit. It might go all the way to the center of the world and out the other side.
Curled in a fetal position, Gerhard yelled, “Jane, what are you doing?”
“It’s okay,” she said.
The fire streaked over their heads, rushing to flow along the walls. Jane followed the path—turning when it turned, slowing at the narrow curls, and hopping over two brief gaps—all the way to the opposite platform and door. The fire went out.
“J-Jane…?” Gerhard said.
“Yes, Gerhard?”
“Good luck saving the world.”
“Thank you,” she said and opened the door.
Inside, a golden hall led to steep stairs and a final door at the top with white light coming out of the edges, as if there were a huge lamp on the other side. Thomas was two steps from the door.
“There you are,” he said.
Thomas was already there. No! Jane wanted to scream.
“You beat me,” she said.
“This is funny,” he said. “Only one of us is supposed to be here.”
She reached the stairs and started up. “Why don’t we work together?”
“Did you listen at all to what Gaius said? He only wants one savior.”
The hall flickered black, as if Jane had blinked—but she hadn’t blinked.
“We’re both here,” Jane said.
“I can see that. I’m not blind.”
He killed that girl, Jane thought, only three steps below Thomas now. “What do you want to do?”
“What do I want?” Again the light sputtered, as if someone were playing with the blinds. But there were no windows. “What I want doesn’t matter,” Thomas said. “It’s what he wants that’s important.”
“I think Gaius will—”
“Not Gaius, stupid. Gaius is a blind old cat with a farting dog that pretends to be a dragon. Gaius doesn’t matter, and anyway, he’ll be dead soon. I’m talking about him .”
Jane felt cold. “You’ve seen the Raven King?”
“Of course I have,” Thomas said. “And you know what? He doesn’t like you.”
He kicked Jane hard in the chest, and she went tumbling and crashing and rolling down the
“You made it!” Jane said. “You’re there!”
He crawled away from the edge and dragged himself up. “Thank you, Jane.”
“What do you see?”
He walked in a slow circle around his platform. At last, he said, “Nothing.”
N othing?”
“I can see another wall and a platform with a door, but it is too far away, and there are no handholds.” Gerhard slumped to the ground. “But even if there were,” he said, “I can’t climb anymore.”
“There must be handholds,” she said.
“Nope.”
This doesn’t make sense, Jane thought. Why is that platform there? Is this a joke? A trial by fire without fire—just a long, long drop…
Wait.
Jane dug the envelope out of her pocket. The writing glowed.
Three Spells Inside,
One for Fire, One for Escape,
And One to Make the Evil One Break.
One for fire, Jane thought, and she took out the papers. There was shiny writing on one of them. Just two words: Ignatio vate . That sounded familiar for some reason. Jane put the two blank sheets and the envelope away again, and she raised the Ignatio vate paper.
Gerhard called, “Jane, what are you doing?”
She waited. Nothing happened. “Um…”
“What is that in your hand?”
Grandma Diana said these words, Jane thought. She said them when she fought the Raven King in our living room. “I’m not sure,” she said. “It’s a spell, I think. It says, Ignatio vate —”
Fire burst from the paper in tendrils that splashed along the walls and swirled like a river of fast-moving lava. The spell paper burned to ash, but the fire didn’t go away.
She saw the path.
A narrow glass walkway extended from the left side of the platform, zigzagging along the walls, all the way to the opposite door. Even in the swirling heat and light, Jane couldn’t see the bottom of the pit. It might go all the way to the center of the world and out the other side.
Curled in a fetal position, Gerhard yelled, “Jane, what are you doing?”
“It’s okay,” she said.
The fire streaked over their heads, rushing to flow along the walls. Jane followed the path—turning when it turned, slowing at the narrow curls, and hopping over two brief gaps—all the way to the opposite platform and door. The fire went out.
“J-Jane…?” Gerhard said.
“Yes, Gerhard?”
“Good luck saving the world.”
“Thank you,” she said and opened the door.
Inside, a golden hall led to steep stairs and a final door at the top with white light coming out of the edges, as if there were a huge lamp on the other side. Thomas was two steps from the door.
“There you are,” he said.
Thomas was already there. No! Jane wanted to scream.
“You beat me,” she said.
“This is funny,” he said. “Only one of us is supposed to be here.”
She reached the stairs and started up. “Why don’t we work together?”
“Did you listen at all to what Gaius said? He only wants one savior.”
The hall flickered black, as if Jane had blinked—but she hadn’t blinked.
“We’re both here,” Jane said.
“I can see that. I’m not blind.”
He killed that girl, Jane thought, only three steps below Thomas now. “What do you want to do?”
“What do I want?” Again the light sputtered, as if someone were playing with the blinds. But there were no windows. “What I want doesn’t matter,” Thomas said. “It’s what he wants that’s important.”
“I think Gaius will—”
“Not Gaius, stupid. Gaius is a blind old cat with a farting dog that pretends to be a dragon. Gaius doesn’t matter, and anyway, he’ll be dead soon. I’m talking about him .”
Jane felt cold. “You’ve seen the Raven King?”
“Of course I have,” Thomas said. “And you know what? He doesn’t like you.”
He kicked Jane hard in the chest, and she went tumbling and crashing and rolling down the
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