‘Sixth landing,’ said Mogget. ‘The ones above won’t follow, but there are more sendings below. They should be slow without the Abhorsen to direct them. Sleepy. Speed is of the essence.’

Steps and landings flashed by. As they passed the fifth landing, Clariel shivered, for it was frosted with ice and a cold wind blew around it, apparently from nowhere. Then it was behind her, more steps taken at a run. Suddenly Mogget slowed in front of her and stopped before another iron-reinforced door that was also swimming in Charter marks. This one, at least, was not covered in ice.

‘Here’s the test,’ he said. ‘I hope the spell knows you as family, and that is enough. It may need more, but we shall see. Put your hand against it.’

Clariel looked at the swirling marks on the door nervously. She didn’t know any of them, and all the stories of people burned from the inside out, or turned to sand, or rendered senseless forever from mishandling Charter Magic came back to her.

‘Put your hand against it,’ repeated Mogget. ‘Quickly! There is little time.’

Clariel slowly extended her hand and set her palm against the timber. Sparks flashed as she did so, and Charter marks thronged from the wood and moved up her arm. She gasped, but there was no real pain, just a strange sensation, as if something was moving over her skin.

The door did not move.

‘Lean your forehead against it!’ urged Mogget, who was now dancing around Clariel’s feet. ‘Tell it to open, in your grandfather’s name!’

Clariel did so, pressing the Charter mark on her forehead against one of the iron bolts that reinforced the door. Again, she felt the weird, crawly sensation, this time extending all over her face.

‘Open in the name of Tyriel, my mother’s father! Open!’ she said, her voice not as steady as she wished.

There was a resonant click inside the door, and it moved under Clariel’s hand and head. She put her other hand against it, and pushed. It moved slowly, like a person who has reluctantly agreed to something but wishes they had done otherwise.

As the door opened, Clariel was assaulted by an incredibly loud noise, so loud it felt almost like a physical blow. The sound of the great waterfall. Kept from the house by magic up above, it was even louder here than it had been going across the bridge in the river. The reason was clear, for a broad cavern in the cliff face lay beyond the door and the far end of it was a gaping hole, with a wall of white water plummeting down outside. Spray was blowing in, making rainbows as it passed across the Charter marks for light that shone in the ceiling and walls of the cavern.