be around to notice if I walk through a couple of walls and close that gate down.”
“But what if she tries to come back and finds it closed behind her?”
“Somehow I can’t see that slowing her down much,” Kit said. “Besides, maybe she’s supposed to find it closed. She is on Ordeal.”
Nita stood up too. “I’ll call Tom and Carl too. They’ll want the details.”
“Right. Go ahead; I’ll take care of the gate.”
Kit turned around, looked at the bricks of the planetarium’s outer wall. He stepped around the corner of the doorway wall, out of sight of the street, and laid one hand on the bricks, muttering under his breath. His hand sank into the wall as if into water. “There we go,” he said, and the bricks rippled as he stepped through them and vanished.
Nita pulled out her mobile and started dialing, finding it hard because her hands were shaking. The thought of her sister running around the universe on Ordeal made her hair stand up on end. No one became a wizard without there being some one problem that their acquisition of power would solve. Nita understood from her studies that normally a wizard was allowed to get as old as possible before being offered the Oath: the Powers, her manual said, wanted every wizard who could to acquire the security and experience that a normal childhood provides. But sometimes, when problems of an unusual nature came up, the Powers would offer the Oath early—because the younger children, not knowing (or caring) what was impossible, had more wizardry available to them.
That kind of problem was likely to be a killer. Nita’s Ordeal and Kit’s had thrown them out of their universe into another one, a place implacably hostile to human beings, and run by the Power that, according to the manual, had invented death before time began—and therefore had been cast out of the other Powers’ society. Every world had stories of that Lone Power, under many names. Nita didn’t need the stories; she had met It face-to-face, twice now, and both times only luck—or the intervention of others—had saved her life. And Nita and Kit had been offered their wizardry at thirteen. The thought of what problem the Powers must need solved if They were willing to offer the Oath to someone two years younger—and the thought of her little sister in the middle of it—
Nita stared at the number she was dialing, realized that she’d fumbled it, started over. What was she going to tell her mother? She couldn’t lie to her: that decision, made at the beginning of the summer, had caused her to tell her folks that she was a wizard, and had produced one of the great family arguments of her life. Her mother and father still weren’t pleased that their daughter might run off anywhere at a moment’s notice, to places where they couldn’t keep an eye on her and protect her. Nor did it matter that those places tended to be the sort where anyone but an experienced wizard would quickly get killed. That made it even worse….
At the other end, the phone rang. Nita’s throat seized up. She began clearing it frantically.
Someone answered. “Hello?”
It was Dairine.
Nita’s throat unseized itself. “Are you all right? Where are you?” she blurted, and then started swearing inwardly at how stupid she sounded.
“I’m fine,” Dairine said. “And I’m right here.”
“How did you get back? Never mind that, how did you get out? And you left the gate open! Do you think what could have happened if some poor janitor went in that door without looking? It’s sixty below this time of year on Mars—”
“Nita,” Dairine said, “you’re babbling. Just go home. I’ll see you later.” And she hung up.
“That rotten little—” Nita said, staring at the phone and then shoving it back into her pocket in fury as she spotted Kit sliding out of the wall of the museum again, unseen by anyone else. She headed over toward him as he leaned back against the wall. “Babbling,” she muttered.
“But what if she tries to come back and finds it closed behind her?”
“Somehow I can’t see that slowing her down much,” Kit said. “Besides, maybe she’s supposed to find it closed. She is on Ordeal.”
Nita stood up too. “I’ll call Tom and Carl too. They’ll want the details.”
“Right. Go ahead; I’ll take care of the gate.”
Kit turned around, looked at the bricks of the planetarium’s outer wall. He stepped around the corner of the doorway wall, out of sight of the street, and laid one hand on the bricks, muttering under his breath. His hand sank into the wall as if into water. “There we go,” he said, and the bricks rippled as he stepped through them and vanished.
Nita pulled out her mobile and started dialing, finding it hard because her hands were shaking. The thought of her sister running around the universe on Ordeal made her hair stand up on end. No one became a wizard without there being some one problem that their acquisition of power would solve. Nita understood from her studies that normally a wizard was allowed to get as old as possible before being offered the Oath: the Powers, her manual said, wanted every wizard who could to acquire the security and experience that a normal childhood provides. But sometimes, when problems of an unusual nature came up, the Powers would offer the Oath early—because the younger children, not knowing (or caring) what was impossible, had more wizardry available to them.
That kind of problem was likely to be a killer. Nita’s Ordeal and Kit’s had thrown them out of their universe into another one, a place implacably hostile to human beings, and run by the Power that, according to the manual, had invented death before time began—and therefore had been cast out of the other Powers’ society. Every world had stories of that Lone Power, under many names. Nita didn’t need the stories; she had met It face-to-face, twice now, and both times only luck—or the intervention of others—had saved her life. And Nita and Kit had been offered their wizardry at thirteen. The thought of what problem the Powers must need solved if They were willing to offer the Oath to someone two years younger—and the thought of her little sister in the middle of it—
Nita stared at the number she was dialing, realized that she’d fumbled it, started over. What was she going to tell her mother? She couldn’t lie to her: that decision, made at the beginning of the summer, had caused her to tell her folks that she was a wizard, and had produced one of the great family arguments of her life. Her mother and father still weren’t pleased that their daughter might run off anywhere at a moment’s notice, to places where they couldn’t keep an eye on her and protect her. Nor did it matter that those places tended to be the sort where anyone but an experienced wizard would quickly get killed. That made it even worse….
At the other end, the phone rang. Nita’s throat seized up. She began clearing it frantically.
Someone answered. “Hello?”
It was Dairine.
Nita’s throat unseized itself. “Are you all right? Where are you?” she blurted, and then started swearing inwardly at how stupid she sounded.
“I’m fine,” Dairine said. “And I’m right here.”
“How did you get back? Never mind that, how did you get out? And you left the gate open! Do you think what could have happened if some poor janitor went in that door without looking? It’s sixty below this time of year on Mars—”
“Nita,” Dairine said, “you’re babbling. Just go home. I’ll see you later.” And she hung up.
“That rotten little—” Nita said, staring at the phone and then shoving it back into her pocket in fury as she spotted Kit sliding out of the wall of the museum again, unseen by anyone else. She headed over toward him as he leaned back against the wall. “Babbling,” she muttered.
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