“Now then,” he said, “what was that you were saying?”

Valkyrie’s mum jabbed her fingers into his eyes and he howled in pain and staggered away. He tripped over his own feet, fell to his hands and knees, and Valkyrie ran up and kicked him in the chin. His hands lifted off the ground for an instant and folded beneath him when he collapsed.

Ignoring the pain in her arm, Valkyrie turned to her mother. “Are you OK? Mum?”

“I’m … I …”

“Mum, are you OK?”

Her mother looked at her. “Everyone has eyes,” she mumbled.

65

THE SECOND TEST

letcher watched Skulduggery move through the dead city. The glass on the balcony, whatever it was, was better than any computer screen Fletcher had ever seen. At a gesture, Wreath could change their viewpoint whenever Skulduggery disappeared behind a building. He could zoom in close, swivel round to the side, tilt up and down – it was a fully controllable camera with perfect resolution. Something like this could change the face of movie-making forever.

“Has any sorcerer ever tried selling magic as technology?” Fletcher asked.

Wreath shrugged. “Sure. The Sanctuaries are usually very good at preventing it, but now and then they miss something, and some little slice of magic slips through.”

“Like what? Smartphones? Bluetooth?”

“Glow-in-the-dark fridge magnets.”

“Seriously?”

“Oh, yes. How do you think they stick to the fridge?”

“Magnetism.”

“Magic.”

“And what about the glow-in-the-dark bit?”

“Also magic.”

“That’s amazing.”

Wreath nodded. “Practically unbelievable.” His eyes narrowed. “Did you see that? Something—”

In the Necropolis, another porcelain-faced man stepped out into the middle of the street.

“And who might you be?” Skulduggery asked.

Wreath repositioned their viewpoint.

“I have many names,” said the man, “and none. I am who I am. As are we all. You may call me the Validator, since that would appear to be my purpose.” His accent was French.

“Right. Can we skip the talking in riddles part and go straight to the bit where you tell me what this test is?”

“This test is about you,” the Validator said. “This is a test only you can take, only you can pass … and only you can fail.”

“Is it maths?”

“You use humour to avoid taking your situation seriously.”

“On the contrary, I use humour because it’s really, really funny. I’m curious, though – do you live here? Do you ever leave? If you never leave and all you do is hang out with the last guy I was talking to, I can see why you’re so ponderous.”

“The City Below is my home. Why would I ever want to leave?”

“You make an excellent point. It’s calm, it’s peaceful, it’s charming in a disquieting sort of way … Lonely, though.”

“Oh, no,” said the Validator. “It is anything but lonely. Sometimes, though, its citizens need some coaxing to emerge. The dead are such shy creatures.”

“I’ve not found that to be the case.”