The Golem's Eye

familiar, too, but despite all this, her heart misgave her. The thing was trying to trap her, surely. Yet she couldn't just turn and run, and never know for certain that she hadn't left Mr. Pennyfeather there, alone and still alive.
    What she needed was the torch.
    The meager beam of light was still shining redundantly against the next pillar, Anne's torch lying exactly where it had fallen. Kitty waited until the limping figure had passed a little way along the nave, then she crept forward with feline stealth, knelt, and collected the torch in her hand. She switched it off and retreated into the darkness.
    The figure seemed to have sensed the movement. Halfway across the nave, it turned, emitting a quavering sigh. "Is... someone there?"
    Hidden behind the pillar, Kitty made no sound.
    "Please... it will find me soon." The taps started up once more. Steadily, they came nearer.
    Kitty bit her lip. She would dart out, torch on; take a look, run. But fear held her rigid, her limbs refused to move.
    Tap, tap... then, with a hollow clattering, she heard the stick fall upon the stones, followed by the muffled impact of a body collapsing to the floor.
     
    Kitty came to a decision. Holding the torch between her teeth, she drew something small from her trouser pocket: Grandmama Hyrnek's silver pendant, cold and heavy in her hand. She grasped the torch once more and stepped out from behind the column. She switched the torch on.
    Right beside her, the skeleton leaned nonchalantly against the pillar, hand on hip, gold mask glinting. "Surprise," it said. And leaped at her.
    With a scream, Kitty fell back, dropping the torch, thrusting her silver pendant out toward the onrushing blackness. A swirl of air, a creak of bones, a hoarse cry. "Now, that's not fair." The form pulled up short. For the first time, she glimpsed its eyes: two red glowing dots flaring with annoyance.
    Kitty backed away, still holding the silver pendant before her. The two eyes crept with her, keeping pace, but wheeling and swerving in the darkness, as she waved the pendant from side to side.
    "Put that down, little girl," the skeleton said in a tone of great vexation. "It burns me. Must be good quality to do that, as it's so small."
    "Back off," Kitty snarled. Somewhere behind her was the cloister door.
    "Now, am I likely to do that? I'm on a charge, you know. In fact, I'm on two. Protect Gladstone's possessions, first of all. Check. Well done, Honorius. No problem there. Destroy all invaders of the tomb, second. Marks so far? Ten out of twelve. Not bad, but room for improvement. And you, little girl, are number eleven." It made a sudden lunge; Kitty sensed the bony fingers swiping in the dark; with a cry, she ducked, held up the pendant. There was a brief flurry of green sparks and an animal howl.
    "Ow! Curse you! Put it down!"
    "Now, am I likely to do that?" Kitty felt a cold breeze behind her, took two more retreating steps and nearly collided with the open door. She edged around it, down the step and into the cloister.
    The skeleton was a shadowy form hunched in the archway. It shook a fist. "I should have brought my sword for you, Kitty," it said. "I've half a mind to go back and fetch..." Then it stiffened and cocked its head. Something had caught its attention.
    Kitty backed steadily away along the corridor.
    "The stars... I'd quite forgotten." The figure in the arch gave a sudden hop and stood on a ledge, looking up toward the sky. "So many of them... so bright and pearly blue." Even from the far end of the cloister, several yards away and retreating fast, Kitty could hear it sniffing the air and muttering to itself, and letting out little cries of fascination and delight. It appeared to have entirely forgotten her existence.
    "No stone. No worms. What a change that would make! No mold, no deathly dustly silence. No none of it. So many stars... and so much space..."
    Kitty rounded the corner and made a dash for the cloister door.

 
     
     
     
     
    Part Four

32
     
    Nathaniel
     
    Nathaniel's limousine sped through the outer suburbs of South London, a region of heavy industry, of brickworks and alchemists' factories, where a faint red smog hung permanently around the houses and glowed evilly in the waning sun. For greater speed and convenience, the magicians' highway from the aerodrome had been raised on embankments and viaducts above the maze of polluted slums. The road was little used, and nothing but rooftops stretched around; at times the car