'I shall be a concubine at the heavenly court of King Zetesphut, who will dwell among the stars forever,' she said firmly.
'You don't have to be,' said Ysabell sharply. The girl turned to her, wide-eyed.
'Oh, but I must. I've been training for it,' she said, as she faded from view. 'I've only managed to be a handmaiden up till now.'
She vanished. Ysabell stared with dark disapproval at the space she had occupied.
'Well!' she said, and, 'Did you see what she had on?'
LET'S GET OUT OF HERE.
'But it can't be true about King Whosis dwelling among the stars,' she grumbled as they found their way out of the crowded room. 'There's nothing but empty space up there.'
IT'S HARD TO EXPLAIN, said Mort. HE'LL DWELL AMONG THE STARS IN HIS OWN MIND.
'With slaves?'
IF THAT'S WHAT THEY THINK THEY ARE.
That's not very fair.'
THERE'S NO JUSTICE, said Mort. JUST us.
They hurried back along the avenues of waiting ghouls and were nearly running when they burst out into the desert night air. Ysabell leaned against the rough stonework and panted for breath.
Mort wasn't out of breath.
He wasn't breathing.
I WILL TAKE YOU WHEREVER YOU WANT, he said, AND THEN I MUST LEAVE YOU.
'But I thought you wanted to rescue the princess!'
Mort shook his head.
I HAVE NO CHOICE. THERE ARE NO CHOICES.
She ran forward and grabbed his arm as he turned towards the waiting Binky. He removed her hand gently.
I HAVE FINISHED MY APPRENTICESHIP.
'It's all in your own mind!' yelled Ysabell. 'You're whatever you think you are!'
She stopped and looked down. The sand around Mort's feet was beginning to whip up in little spurts and twirling dust devils.
There was a crackle in the air, and a greasy feel. Mort looked uneasy.
SOMEONE is PERFORMING THE RITE OF ASH —
It hit like a hammer, a force from out of the sky that blew the sand into a crater. There was a low buzzing and the smell of hot tin.
Mort looked around himself in the gale of rushing sand, turning as if in a dream, alone in the calm centre of the gale. Lightning flashed in the whirling cloud. Deep inside his own mind he struggled to break free, but something had him in its grip and he could no more resist than a compass needle can ignore the compulsion to point towards the Hub.
At last he found what he was searching for. It was a doorway edged in octarine light, leading to a short tunnel. There were figures at the other end, beckoning to him.
I COME, he said, and then turned as he heard the sudden noise behind him. Eleven stone of young womanhood hit him squarely in the chest, lifting him off the ground.
Mort landed with Ysabell kneeling on him, holding on grimly to his arms.