‘It means, you foolish man, that the thing we’re after’⁠ — she pointed in the direction they’d been walking⁠ — ‘is that way.’

Timothy had found the going easier as he walked down the hill. The trees on the other side from the school had been shielded from the blast and were thus still intact. He was vaguely hoping to see the cat again, but it hadn’t appeared. He was heading for the orchard, waiting to feel certain about something again.

His eyes narrowed on the sphere, thinking almost that he’d heard it speak again.

The demon inside the ball talked in whispers. He squeezed it tightly. That didn’t work. He drew it to his face, thinking to look into it like a crystal ball. He’d already tried rubbing it, wondering if a genie would appear and grant him wishes.

And the voice was nearly there, right on the edge of hearing. It got louder as he moved the Pod closer to his forehead. Sparks were dancing in his eyes now, leaving bright trails across his vision. An inch closer and the lightning would leap, the connection would be made. He’d never have to feel pain again, he’d be above missing his dead mother and his father abroad who’d wanted him to be a soldier.

But it was terrifying, the things he’d started to see, a great river of information pouring into his head, as if from the lip of a cup that was about to overflow. The responsibility of taking on all that… It would fill him to bursting.

He felt like the young Arthur, the sword standing in the stone before him. All he had to do was grasp it, free it, take on his destiny.

His destiny?

He lowered the sphere from his head, panting. ‘I can’t do it,’ he said bitterly. ‘You’re not mine.’ Then his expression hardened. ‘You’re right. I must find who you belong to, and give you back to them.’

Smith and Joan were picking their way through the orchard, Smith turning his head every now and then like a bloodhound on the trail. ‘I don’t understand this any more than you do,’ he told her, ‘but it seems to be working.’

‘If you find this artefact that everybody seems so desperate to acquire, what do you intend to do with it?’

‘Make a bargain. I give it to them, they go away. This battle’s about a thing. A round red thing that represents nothing. A thing that’s made them kill many times, that made me feel that I could take a life.’ His growl receded to a mutter. ‘They’re welcome to it.’