“I did,” said the Demon Master dryly.

“And almost got us both drowned.”

Gulamendis knelt and inspected the base, then the two arching wands of wood that formed the boundary of the portal. “I feel energy, but it’s very faint.”

“Do you see controls?”

“I think here,” Gulamendis answered. “Feel here.” He pointed at a spot on one of the uprights.

Laromendis did and said, “I feel a depression…wait, a series of them.”

“Try turning your hand sidewise.”

“Fingers!” said Laromendis with delight. “You put your fingers in there.”

“And one for the thumb, I am certain.”

“Why?” asked his brother.

The Demon Master said, “Because few of the demon hosts have four fingers and a thumb, and most of those that do have long talons that would prevent their fingers from fitting!”

“Or they just designed it that way because that’s how they create artifacts.”

“Or that,” agreed Gulamendis.

Laromendis moved his fingers around a little in the impressions and said, “I don’t know how this works.”

“There’s nothing in the journal about how this device operates. Lots of discussion of what happened when they used it, but nothing as to how it’s controlled.”

“There are no markings, no devices…nothing to tell you if you’ve selected the proper alignment…” Laromendis looked defeated.

Suddenly Gulamendis said, “Think about where you want to go.”

“Think?”

“You’re the Master Conjurer. Conjure in your mind…that place where the dragon landed us on Sorcerer’s Isle.”

With no better idea, Laromendis closed his eyes and envisioned as best he could that exact location. Suddenly a shot of energy ran up his arm, causing him to jerk his hand away. “Ow!”

“What?” asked Gulamendis.

Shaking his hands a little, his brother answered, “Nothing. Just a little shock—unexpected. It’s as if I touched metal on a very dry day.” Tentatively he returned his fingers to the spots and said, “It’s not bad if you expect it.” Closing his eyes, he again tried to concentrate on the location on Sorcerer’s Island where they had both been taken when reunited.

After a full minute he took his hand away and said, “No, something’s not right.”

“What?”

“If I knew, I’d be a galasmancer, not a conjurer.”

Gulamendis sat, opened the journal, and began turning pages. “This is probably futile, but let me see if there is something I’ve missed.”