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which Hub is nearest to you, and then you could travel overland from there. Where do you live, Kaznim?”
    â€œIn the star tent beside the Moon Pool, beneath the long dune.”
    Marwick looked puzzled. “So, where’s that?” he asked.
    â€œUm. In the desert,” said Kaznim. “The Desert of the Singing Sands.”
    â€œOkay . . . and whereabouts is that?”
    Kaznim shook her head. “I . . . I don’t know.”
G OING H OME
    Kaznim sat clutching Ptolemy tightly. The tortoise’s sharp-clawed legs churned powerfully against her stomach, but Kaznim took no notice. She was desolate—and mortified. How could she not know where she lived? What a baby she was. She had spent all her life that she could remember in the star-spangled tent at the foot of the long dune but she had no idea where in the world it was. Kaznim looked down at Ptolemy, who had now withdrawn peevishly into his shell. It’s all right for you , she thought. You have your home with you. I’ve lost mine. And I have no idea how to find it .
    Sam watched the tears spring into Kaznim’s eyes—such adark blue that they were nearly purple—and he sat up and put his good arm around her slight shoulders. She reminded him of his little sister at that age. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Me . . . and Marwick will look after you. We’re . . . trying to find our way home too.”
    Kaznim was shocked. “Don’t you know where you live either?” she asked Sam.
    Sam lay back, exhausted by his effort. Marwick looked at him with concern.
    â€œI’m okay,” said Sam.
    â€œNo, you’re not,” Marwick retorted. “You need to rest, Sammo.” He turned to Kaznim. “We’re like you,” he said. “We know where we live, but we’re not sure how to get there. We got lost a few years ago now.”
    â€œYears?” asked Kaznim, dismayed. It seemed that Sam and Marwick were as silly as she was. The thought that it might be years before she saw her mother again made the tears silently overflow and run down her cheeks.
    â€œBut it’s only been years because we got stuck in a prison,” Marwick explained hurriedly.
    Kaznim stared at Marwick. “In prison ?”
    Marwick grinned. “Hey, don’t worry, you’re not stuck witha couple of murderers. We were prisoners of war. Got caught up in someone’s battle. Never did understand what it was about, did we, Sam?”
    â€œNah,” Sam muttered. “They were both . . . as bad as each other.”
    â€œThey were,” Marwick agreed. “But it didn’t help when you told them that.”
    Sam looked sheepish.
    Kaznim smiled shyly. “It’s good they let you go,” she said.
    Marwick grimaced. “They didn’t. We escaped. Had a bit of a fight on the way out.” He changed the subject. “Right, we need to get Sammo home. Let’s have a proper look at that map.”
    Ptolemy stuck his two back legs hard into Kaznim’s stomach. “Ouch!” she gasped, and put the tortoise back among the yellow flowers.
    Marwick laid his flimsy map on the grass in front of Kaznim, then pulled a very battered, small notebook from his pocket and opened it. Kaznim saw that it was full of lists of letters, rather like the ones inscribed above the arches that led from the garden. She watched Marwick trace his finger along the lines on the map, stopping at each circle and writing downa number in his notebook. At last, when the list seemed very long, he stopped, sat up and said to Sam, “Fifteen Hubs. Can’t do it in any less, Sammo. Sorry.”
    â€œNo . . . problem,” Sam said.
    Marwick frowned. Kaznim could see he thought fifteen Hubs was a problem. She guessed it meant that Sam would have to walk a long way. Marwick turned to her and said, “We’re going back to the Castle. Sam needs to get proper help, fast.” Kaznim nodded.