Tomos already had it in his hand.

Seren said, ‘Isn’t that…?’

‘From the drawing-room cabinet, yes. I’ll be in real trouble.’ Tomos turned his back.

‘Yes, but wait,’ Seren said quickly. ‘Before you throw it… It’s just, I’m not sure it is Them, after all and…’

It was too late.

He had already tossed the small, crystal pyramid over his shoulder. It spun flashing through the starlight, tumbled onto the grass, and lay there.

‘Magic?’ the mouse asked.

‘What else?’ the Crow said haughtily.

For a moment Seren thought nothing was happening, but then a tall, thin man heaved himself out of the well and waved frantically. He shouted and jumped up and down. ‘Brother! It’s me! ENOCH!’

The Crow’s beak opened; a small gasp came out.

Too late! The crystal pyramid burst open. It shot up and out, higher and higher until it was a glass mountain that blocked the sky, glaciers and peaks sparking upward, vast mountain fissures opening like chasms with terrible cracking sounds that made Seren and Tomos crouch down in fear.

Then, silence.

The glass mountain stood slippery and sheer. How could anyone climb that?

‘Oh hell!’ the Crow said softly.

‘That was your brother! He’s the one who’s been chasing after us all this time!’ Tomos stood up and went and touched the nearest crystal edge with his hand. It felt icy cold. ‘How on earth is he going to get over this?’

‘Well, how was I supposed to know?’ The Crow hunched huffily in the grass. ‘How am I supposed to know EVERYTHING? You’d be more than happy with a mountain if it was Them behind us! Admit it!’

‘Yes, I would, but…’

‘Then stop blaming me.’ The Crow turned away. ‘Enoch will just have to do the best he can.’

‘I think it was quite impressive,’ the mouse remarked kindly.

The Crow nailed it with a wintry glare. ‘Come on,’ it snapped.

Seren frowned. She knew that the Crow was bitterly sorry not to have Enoch here. But he would never admit he’d been too hasty. That just wasn’t how he was. Still, she caught up with him and whispered, ‘I’m very sorry about Enoch.’

The Crow allowed himself a sigh. ‘So am I. But he is very resourceful. He’s learned a lot from me, of course.’

‘Through the orchard,’ the mouse ordered. It flicked a whisker. ‘And do hurry, because She is waiting.’

The orchard was beautiful. Under the summer moon, its perfect fruits hung ripe – golden apples and silver pears – and the dark grass was studded with daisies.

At the end of the small trees they reached a great stone wall, and the Crow gave a shiver of excitement. ‘This is it! Goodness, I remember it so well! This is the wall of the garden. There’s a gate…’

‘There it is,’ the mouse said, pointing a minute paw over the top of Tomos’s pocket. ‘Just there.’

It was exactly how Seren had imagined it: an iron gate in an arch in the wall. She put her hand out, cautiously, and unlatched it.