He interrupted me. ‘I do not require or desire that sort of burden. I am Asbar.’

‘It’s nice to meet you.’

He blinked. I had the feeling I needed to get on with it or he’d get bored and fling me over the edge. ‘I told you before that I can help you. I was telling the truth.’

There was a flash of light. The demons winced and shielded their eyes. ‘Is it time?’ Bob demanded. ‘Are we getting ready to rock and roll? Because I gotta tell you, I’ve been thinking about this and I reckon it’s a good idea after all. No other genie has tried something like this.’ He nodded vigorously. ‘They’ll be singing my name for the next thousand years.’ He looked round. ‘Long after you lot are dust.’

‘Thanks, Bob,’ I muttered drily. I pointed at Fergus. He swallowed and reached for his bag, opened it and pulled out the Foinse. Its silver light cast a strange glow over us all. The demons gaped. Some were afraid, others were simply awestruck. ‘This,’ I said, with a dramatic flourish, ‘is the Foinse, the source of all Highland magic.’

It hummed in response and pulled upwards from Fergus, flipping once and then spinning over to me. I smiled at it and reached out, brushing its warm surface with my fingertips. I gestured to Asbar. The Foinse seemed somewhat reluctant but even so it flew over and hovered in front of him. He stared at it in fascination. ‘We have something similar,’ he said, ‘as I’m sure you already know.’

‘The Draoidheachd. Yes.’

He didn’t take his eyes from the Foinse. ‘Your pronunciation is appalling.’

I wasn’t going to get into an argument about the merits or otherwise of my Gaelic. ‘What do you understand about it?’

‘We keep it locked away. Looking at its light hurts us and we are wary of its capabilities. We would never permit it to get this close to us.’

I looked at Taylor who looked back, wide-eyed. He might not understand Asbar’s words but he guessed the gist of them. ‘Don’t let go of it,’ I warned him. ‘Not yet.’

He nodded, unzipping his jacket once more and drawing out the golden sphere. At least three of the demons cried out.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ Asbar demanded. ‘Where did you get it from?’

Taylor straightened, smiling casually even though I could see through the curve of his mouth to the fear beyond. ‘We stole it.’

I grinned and added a quick translation. I received several furious snarls in response.

The nearest demon lunged for it. May, however, jumped in front and blocked his path. ‘Wait,’ she said clearly. ‘Just wait.’

It was Byron’s turn. ‘My name is Byron Moncrieffe,’ he said. His voice rang out confidently. ‘I am the son of Aifric, the Steward of the Highlands. I have read enough history to know what happened during the Fissure.’ He pointed to the Foinse that was still bobbing in front of Asbar’s face and then to the Draoidheachd. ‘When the Veil came down and Scotland separated, so did the magic. These two used to be one. They used to be together, just like Scotland was.’