Ishbel rose to her feet, turning in alarm.

The One!

She could feel him crashing through the pyramid toward her, feel his anger, feel his murderous need to wrap his gigantic hands about her throat and —

Ishbel, the rat said. He raised up the candle, and Ishbel turned to him . . . and cried out in horror.

Just as the rat pulled the candle close to blow it out, Ishbel saw hundreds of black hands rise up behind the golden glass of the Infinity Chamber and then reach through it, reaching for her.

Before she could react, even move a muscle, she was caught fast and dragged into the pyramid.

Ishbel found herself in a strange place that she could only comprehend as thick light. She could breathe, if she concentrated on it, but movement was difficult.

She could sense many, many others close, pressing in so that they almost touched her.

At her feet sat the rat, atop the Book of the Soulenai.

A man emerged before her. He was tall with a lined face, as if he had suffered greatly, and his dark hair was slicked back into a club at the base of his neck.

“Did you read the first tale in the Book?” he said.

Ishbel opened her mouth to say “No, I had no time”, but in that instant she realised she knew the first tale.

Long, long ago, a Magus named Ta’uz took as his mistress a slave from the camp that surrounded Threshold, and which housed its enslaved builders. This Magus, Ta’uz, affected great disdain for his mistress, whose name was Raguel. When she bore their child he murdered it, for Threshold, and the Way of the One, demanded its death.

No Magus was permitted to subdivide away from the One.

But Ta’uz continued his affair with Raguel, even though it took many months before she could bear to go back to his bed. Despite what had happened between them, despite the murder of their daughter, and despite the fact that Ta’uz was a Magus and Raguel a slave, they became close and eventually came to love each other.

They edged close to happiness, and Threshold was displeased.

One day it took them.

A great sheet of glass slid from its upper walls, slicing through the air, and before either Ta’uz or Raguel could move it speared them on the jagged edge of the glass and they died.

The pyramid did not like their closeness, which drew the Magus away from his devotion to the One.

“Yes,” said Ishbel. “I know who you are. Ta’uz, why is the light here so thick?”

“Because it is crowded with the souls of those the pyramid has murdered over the years,” Ta’uz replied.

“Why are you here?”

“Because I am going to aid you. I am going to show you the first step you must take within this intricate puzzle of a pyramid, the first stone you must unwind to open up the pyramid’s deepest vulnerabilities.”

“Thank you,” Ishbel said. “I must start soon, for the One is here, and searching for me. He has great hands, I fear, and he has grown them for me.”

“Indeed. Ishbel, do you know the second story in the list?”

Ishbel thought.

The tale of Druse, and of how he was turned to stone and then crumbled into the river.

“Yes,” she said, smiling.

Druse was Tirzah’s father, sent into slavery with her, and like her, a glass worker, although nowhere near as magical as his daughter.

Druse had also been slaughtered by the pyramid, turned to stone before Tirzah’s eyes in an effort to punish her, and then his body was taken to the river and its stone remains crumbled to lie scattered along its muddy bed.

“Why do I need to know that story?” she asked Ta’uz.

“So that you will know that not all your family died in the charnel house you once called home.”

Ishbel did not know what to make of that.

“If you know these two stories,” said Ta’uz, “then I can show you the stone that, if overturned, will lead to the unwinding of the entire pyramid. But, beware, Ishbel, for both the pyramid and the One will fight back. They will give no quarter. Do you dare this?”

Ishbel thought, and as she did so, the rat left his perch on the Book of the Soulenai and tugged at Ishbel’s skirts. She lifted him up, amazed by his warmth and the dark beauty of his eyes, and he scrambled onto her shoulder.

“I am ready,” said Ishbel, knowing that the rat would be her courage.

“Good,” said Ta’uz. “See.”

He moved his hand and the light shifted, and Ishbel saw set out before her a flat piece of land shimmering under the desert sun. To one side lay a deep and winding river, encased by thick reed banks.

The River Lhyl, as it had once lived.

This piece of land was marked out with pegs and stretches of creamy cord were tied between the pegs. The cords and pegs described an intricate pattern on the ground.

Ishbel could see that this pattern described power.

Magi walked about, stepping carefully over the cords and pegs. They were dressed in long robes of blue, over white under-robes. Their movements were measured, their arms folded with their hands secreted away in the voluminous sleeves of their blue robes.

“Their movements describe a pattern,” said Ta’uz. “A mathematical formula.”

“An enchantment,” Ishbel said.

“If you like,” Ta’uz said. “A set dance to garner power, if you will. Look.”

Now Ishbel saw slaves, hundreds of them, hauling with ropes many huge blocks of stone. She saw, as though many months passed in a moment, the slaves begin to construct the foundations of what would grow to be Threshold, later called DarkGlass Mountain.

Many slaves died, crushed when the blocks of stone slipped and fell.

“Do you see?” said Ta’uz. “Do you understand?”

He pointed to a single block of stone, one among hundreds now laid into courses, and apparently innocuous in its similarity to its fellows.

“Yes,” Ishbel murmured. “I see. I understand.”

“Unsat that stone, and the entire edifice of the pyramid, all that it is, has been or could ever be, will unwind to dust. You will need to find this stone, and you will need to unseat it. Can you do this?”

Ishbel looked into Ta’uz’s eyes, and saw increasing anxiety there.

“I can do this,” she said.

“It will take great fortitude and courage for I feel the One thunder close, and I feel the pyramid’s malice tighten about you like a fist about a gnat.”

“I have fortitude,” said Ishbel, “and,” she lifted a hand to touch the rat, “I have courage.”

“Remember the story of Druse,” said Ta’uz. Ishbel leaned close, kissed his cheek, and turned away.

She took a deep breath, then a big step forward .

. . . and stepped out of the dense light and into one of the black-glassed internal corridors of DarkGlass Mountain.

She could hear the pounding of feet and knew that it was the One, coming for her.

“This way,” she said to the rat and walked down the corridor without hesitation, taking the first turn on the right, and then the third on the left.

Ishbel stopped, staring about her, unable to comprehend for the moment what had happened.

The pyramid had vanished, and she was now standing in the hallway that led to the kitchen in her parents’ home in Margalit.

She could hear the faint sounds of a crowd outside, cries that the house be burned to save the rest of the city from the pestilence within the Brunelle residence.

I can smell corpses, said the rat.

“I can hear the crackle of flames,” Ishbel said, so horrified her voice cracked from the dryness in her throat and mouth.