“It’ll flood soon,” she called over her shoulder. The men followed her, all but the Kelt hunched over. Lugotorix strode through the storm like a walking tree, hair plastered across his face, eyes mere slits, teeth bared in a grimace.

The bottom of the swale was already ankle-deep in rushing water. She slipped and stepped gingerly down the bank, somehow staying upright with both hands gripping the clavicle, until she splashed across the bottom and stood beside the shivering lens of the gate, seeing it with her eyes and also in her mind, undisturbed by the storm or the lightning strike.

The clavicle showed her how wide the storm was, and odd symbols flashed through the display, bunching up at one point in the clouds and blinking green—

Just as lightning brightened the grassland yet again.

The clavicle kept her informed about all conditions around the gate. A pity Grandmother didn’t tell me about all this, she thought. She might not have known.

“It’s still here, and it hasn’t changed,” she called to the men. Only Lugotorix followed her into the swale. Demetrios stopped halfway down the bank, not, she surmised, out of fear, but in deference to her position, her control of the situation.

“Do you need help?” he asked, holding out his hands.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve never done this before.”

What do I do to widen the gate? she asked the device. She assumed that was what they were all after, with no time to be extra cautious. She could hardly conceive of who or what might be waiting for them on the other side: ogres or gods.

She was still a child of Rhodos, however sophisticated she might pretend to be. She did not have her grandmother’s upbringing.

The clavicle instructed her below a level she could follow with her conscious mind. Her hands tingled; the effect was almost painful. Her muscles jerked minutely, growing used to new directives, new channels of command being blazed through her nervous system in just a few seconds. For a moment, Rhita was both tired and nauseated, but that passed and she straightened.

Surprised, she blinked away a few drops of water. The rain had stopped and she hadn’t noticed. Had she fainted or blacked out? She turned and saw Lugotorix behind her, eyes focused over her head. Demetrios halfway down the bank, and Atta and Oresias and the soldiers along the edge, all stared at the gateway.

Rhita looked up.

The lens had risen and expanded, flattening. It gleamed oddly in the fresh rays of a morning sun shining at a low angle between parting clouds. She consulted the clavicle.

The gateway’s changed. What’s happening?

We have made it expand, the clavicle told her. You ordered it so.

Can I go through it?

Not advisable, the clavicle said.

Why?

We cannot know what is on the other side.