The Bell Between Worlds Read Online Free PDF Page A

cipher is that it tricks your eye into seeing whatever you expect. You thought you would see words written in English, so that is what you saw. But they were meaningless. In truth you were looking at one of the world’s most ancient codes: a cipher known as Ravel Runes .”
    Sylas repeated the words under his breath.
    “The problem for anyone trying to read Ravel Runes is that they must first learn to see the symbols as they really are, before they can even begin to work out what they might stand for.” Sylas looked back at the book and, sure enough, the writing once again looked encouragingly familiar and easy to read. But it made no sense. He blinked hard.
    “That’s weird ,” he said, shaking his head and laughing. “Just weird!”
    “Weird is one way of putting it,” said Mr Zhi with a smile, “and wonderful is another. Ravel Runes are difficult enough to read, but just imagine how hard they are to write. Think of the time it takes.” He leaned over the counter and for a while they both stared in silence at the writing, admiring the hand that wrote it.
    “Time!” cried Sylas suddenly. He scrambled for his wristwatch. “The time! I’ll miss the post! My uncle will kill me!” To miss the post was unthinkable. His uncle had two major topics of conversation: the importance of timeliness and the supreme importance of his correspondence. He would see a failure to catch the post as a conspiracy to overturn all that was good in the world: a capital offence punishable by interminable lectures on both topics for at least a week.
    Sylas snatched up his rucksack and in a blind panic started off down one of the dark corridors of Things. As he left the sphere of candlelight, he found himself peering into the darkness of several passages, none of which looked familiar.
    He heard a kindly chuckle behind him.
    “Calm yourself, Sylas,” said Mr Zhi, walking up. “I’ll show you out, but first, take this.”
    He pushed the Samarok into Sylas’s hands.
    Sylas looked at him in surprise. “You mean… to keep?” “To keep. You have much more use for it than I.” “But I… I can’t!” cried Sylas as he followed Mr Zhi towards the front of the shop.
    “But it’s already yours, Sylas, I’ve given it to you.” Sylas hesitated for a moment, but then shook his head. “Thank you,” he said, “really, but I don’t know what I’d do with it! I don’t understand the code.”
    “You will,” replied Mr Zhi.
    As they emerged from the warren of parcels and stepped into the light, the shopkeeper turned and smiled.
    “I have a motto, young man, one that has served me very well: ‘Do not fear what you do not understand.’ You have much to learn about the world you live in, but most of all about yourself – about who you are and where you are from. The Samarok will help you on that journey.”
    “That’s the second time you’ve said that – what journey?”
    asked Sylas, more confused than ever.
    Mr Zhi took hold of the door handle and let the great din of the passing road into the shop.
    “The Samarok is yours, and its journey of discovery will be yours too. Only you will know when that journey has begun, and where it is taking you. All I can offer you is this.” He pulled a sma ll white envelope from his pocket and held it out to Sylas. “What is it?”
    “It will help you to decipher the runes,” said Mr Zhi. He held out his gloved hand and grasped Sylas’s in a handshake. “Now, you must go.”
    “I don’t know what to say.”
    “Then say nothing,” said the shopkeeper.
    Sylas paused for a moment and looked into Mr Zhi’s kindly eyes. He felt he had made a friend and he wanted to say that he would be back, but somehow he knew that Mr Zhi had shown him the Things that he wanted to show, and that was the end of it. He walked through the doorway and peered into the street beyond. It looked even colder and gloomier than it had before. The sky was bleak and threatening and the blanket of cloud seemed to