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much older. The uniform was a good fit, although it was frayed here and there. He thought he looked like a soldier, somebody who had been in a long war far from home. He heard a noise behind him and turned. Cati was standing in the doorway.
    "It suits you," she said.
    "This is my place. You have no right to come in here without asking," said Owen, suddenly defensive.
    "I was only trying to help. You needed clothes."
    "I don't need anything of yours!" he said angrily. "I just want to be left alone."
    "Next time I will leave you alone," she snapped back. There were red spots high on her cheeks. "Next time I will leave you alone and you can go around in your bare skin."
    They glared at each other for a minute. Then Owen saw a muscle twitch in Cati's face. He felt his own face begin to crease. A few seconds later they were helpless with laughter.
    Owen laughed until his sides ached. He and Cati collapsed on the old bus seat, wiping their eyes. They sat for a moment in companionable silence, then Cati leapt to her feet without a word and went back outside. When she came back, she was carrying a basket. Delicious smells rose from it, and Owen stared at it hungrily.
    "Contessa sent it," Cati said. She opened the basket and set out the contents neatly on the top of the dressing table. There was fresh, warm bread and sealed bowls of
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    hot stew. There were roast potatoes, cheese sauce, and all sorts of pickles that Owen didn't think that he would like and then discovered he did. They ate without talking, finishing up with two bowls of a delicious substance that was something like custard and something like cream. Owen lay back on the bus seat feeling that suddenly life did not look so bleak after all. But Cati leapt to her feet again.
    "Come on," she said briskly. "We have to go to the Convoke."
    "I'm too full for a Convoke now, whatever it is."
    "I think you'd better come," Cati said, suddenly serious. "You need to know about your mother, apart from anything else."
    His mother! Owen sprang to his feet and hurried after her. Outside, it was a cold, crisp night and he could see his breath hanging in the air. He hurried after Cati through the shadows of the trees.
    "We've got time," she said. "There are two parts to this Convoke ... and you're not allowed into the first part."
    "Why not?"
    She hesitated, then spoke softly, as if she was afraid that she might be overheard. "Well... it's actually about you."
    "About me?"
    "Yes. It's about whether you should be allowed to attend or not. And other things."
    "Why wouldn't I be allowed to attend?"
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    "You'll find out."
    Owen was puzzled. What was so special about him that they would waste time talking about whether or not he could attend the Convoke?
    "Do you really want to hear the first bit?" Cati asked. "Really?"
    "I suppose," he said. "If it's about me, maybe I'd better."
    "There's a secret way into the chamber," she said. "I found it ages ago. Come on."
    Cati turned onto a path that seemed to lead under the hill. Owen had noticed a gully there before, but it had been choked with trees and undergrowth. Now it had been cleared and the path was smooth underfoot. The path sloped downward and high walls reared on either side, their ancient stones covered in moss and ferns and lichen.
    "Where are we going?" Owen said, suddenly aware he was whispering.
    "You'll see."
    Cati moved swiftly on. It became darker and darker but she did not falter, and Owen began to wonder if she could see in the dark.
    After what felt like a long time, Cati stopped so suddenly that Owen ran into her. As his eyes became accustomed to the dark, he saw that they were standing in front of a vast door made of brass and wood, so old and gnarled that it looked like stone. Again, it was decorated with spidery shapes that looked like a child's drawings of boats and planes. As Owen examined it, he realized that
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    the drawings glowed faintly with a blue light he had seen everywhere that day.
    Cati took a key from her