escaped from the demon’s mouth as it was dying had seemed to travel through Tash’s body and, more than that, seemed to carry her to the center of the demon world—to the core where the smoke lived and where it all seemed to return. And, remembering that now, Tash felt something inside her chest stir. As if a small wisp of the smoke was somehow still inside her body.
Could it be so? Was that what was keeping her alive? Preventing the stone from crushing her completely?
She felt a connection with this demon, but would he be able to explain what the connection was? The demon had been as scary as shit when he was dying, but now he seemed quite calm and focused on what he was doing, which was making a hole in the ground by moving his finger across it. The hole was shallow and small, but now he used four finger-tips and the hole deepened, then he used the palm of his hand.
Tash leaned forward and saw the hole went deep into the earth and was full of red smoke, and it looked like it was opening up beneath her. She screamed and jumped back—
And hit the back of her head on the hard stone.
She was surrounded by blackness again. There was no hole, no forest, no demon.
It was a dream.
Just a dream.
She dropped her head back down. But now it fell into a dip in the stone.
A dip that had not been there before. And . . .
I can see my hands!
There was a faint red glow in the space before her.
Her hands were lying in a slight hollow, about the size of her head and as deep as her fist.
Was the stone moving again?
Or have I moved the stone?
She’d dreamed that the demon was making a hole with its fingers. But her own fingers were sore, as if she’d been doing the same movement in her sleep.
I must have made the hole.
And, like any prisoner, her next thought was of escape.
If I can make a hole, I can make a tunnel.
EDYON
CALIA, CALIDOR
EDYON WAS late. He was supposed to be in the main courtyard for the procession, but he’d got himself lost in the castle’s corridors. A servant had given him directions, but somehow he’d ended up near the kitchens. He’d asked for guidance from there and ended up near the library. He was beginning to think the servants were doing it on purpose. But he could now hear noise from a crowd. He turned a corner, and ahead was the archway to the main courtyard, which was full of people. As Edyon drew nearer he heard some snippets of conversation. “He’s late. Probably doing his hair.” “I wonder if he’s just a bit simple.”
Edyon turned and went round the other way, hurrying as much as he could. He was aware that the whole procession was waiting for him, and aware that, yet again, he’d messed up. He walked as quickly as he could to his horse, which was being held for him, and did his best to mount smoothly. He hated riding and the cobbles in the courtyard were slippery with rain. The horse was the tamest thing in the royal stables, however, and Edyon was grateful that it stood solidly unmoving.
And with the blast of a trumpet, the procession was off. Edyon rode beside his father at the head of the long line of lords, soldiers, horses, drummers, and trumpeters.
“I’m sorry I was late.” He had to shout to be heard above the fanfare.
Thelonius waved it off. “You’re a prince, Edyon. The people can wait for you. Now, let’s tour our country.”
Edyon was supposed to wave to the crowd from his horse, but all he wanted to do was cling to the saddle. The last thing he needed was to fall from his horse and be even more of a laughingstock, even more of a disgrace. The lords were in the procession behind him, all staring at his back. Edyon could almost feel their gazes, all assessing him and all finding him wanting.
When the procession had taken them out of the city, his father said, “You’re very quiet, Edyon.”
“I was thinking of the lords. And the coronation ceremony.”
“Oh?”
“It was a disaster.”
“No. You were crowned. You took the oath. You did all that was required.”
“It looked like I threw the crown to the floor.”
“I didn’t see it like that.”
“The lords saw it. All of them. They had front-row seats. The chancellor has already warned us