“I mean,” said Khamwas hastily to deflect possible wrath from his manikin, “that it’s no more than a part of the door. A trick only, without volition or consciousness. It’s carrying out the last order it was given, the way a bolt lies in its groove when the master releases it. No one may be present.”
“If we go in there,” said Star distinctly, pointing at the door, “we’ll be . . . krrk.” The child cocked her head up as if her neck had been wrung. “Like chickens,” she added as she relaxed, grinning.
Samlor’s breath wheezed out. He had thought . . .
“Well, Star,” said the Napatan scholar, “I might be able to keep the wraith from moving for a time, long enough for us to get past the – . . zone of which it’s a part. I might. But I think we’d best not go in by this door until Setios permits us to pass.”
The two of them smiled knowingly at one another.
Samlor restrained his impulse to do something pointlessly violent. He looked at the blade of his knife instead of glaring at his companions and began in a very reasonable tone, “In that case, we’d best get some sleep and-“
“Actually,” said Khamwas, not so much interrupting as speaking without being aware that Samlor was in the middle of a statement, “nei- ther of us have business with Setios himself, only with items in his posses- sion. I wonder . . .”
“I want my gift now,” said Star, her face set in the slanting lines of temper. Either she tossed her head slightly, or the whorl of white strands in her curly black hair moved on its own.
Go IN NOW read the iron letters on the blade at which Samlor stared in anger. There was too little light for the markings to be visible, but he saw them nonetheless.