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to.”
    “It's...”  He paused again, as if unsure how much he could say.  “It's beyond the Veil.  A city called 'London'.  We have to set sail as soon as possible.”
    “Rishi, come on now, what's wrong?”  Milima stepped forward to lay a hand on his arm.  “All these plans we 've been making...”
    “Yes, I know.  I'll explain things to the dean tonight.  As best I can, anyway.”
    “But why?  What in the world could be so important that you need to abandon everything you've been working for this last year?  What is this about?”
    “Milima, you know I wouldn't ask, not unless it was absolutely necessary.”
    “So we just have to trust you?”  Milima scowled.
    “Can you?”
    For a moment, Milima said nothing, her eyes fixed on his.  Then she gave a nod.  
    “I'll have the ship ready by daybreak,” Abasi said.
    The argument apparently settled, her father turned to look at Micah and Ilona, both of whom had been watching everything keenly, but without saying a word.
    “I'm so sorry about this.  I'll have arrangements made for both of you to stay here at Skytower.  Or, I can pay for passage if there's somewhere else you'd like to be.”
    Ilona's sharp features pulled back into an angry sneer.
    “You absolutely must be joking,” she snarled.  Her father's eyes creased with sadness.
    “I really am so sorry.  This situation...”
    “Professor, I think what 'Lona's trying to say,” Micah interjected, “is that we really don't give a rat's arse what the situation is.  We're not sitting this one out just because the plans have changed.   I know how much this expedition meant to you.  Whatever this thing is that's come up, it's obviously pretty damn important. ”
    “You feel the same, I take it?” her father said, looking at Ilona.  The woman inclined her head, ever so slightly .
    “Well, thank you, both of you,” he said.  Micah raised his hands in an easy-going gesture.
    “You did promise me we'd get to travel.  I've never been past the Veil before.”
    Despite his outward calm, Arsha had known Micah long enough to recognise the nervousness in the man's eyes.  That same nervousness was lurking behind every face in the room, a tension crackling in the air, as her father excused himself and stalked away, his shoulders hunched over as his coat flapped around his heels.  Arsha felt Shani's hand enclosing hers, a gentle, reassuring pressure as the woman smiled at her, a little sadly.  Neither of them seemed to have any idea what to say.

Chapter 3 – Tracks
     
    A door stood in front of her, the blue paint long since peeled and faded to an awful grey.  Plastic numbers barely visible , the gold painted finish all worn off.  The last door i n a line of grey doors on the third floor, overlooking a concrete courtyard.  The grey doorways faced onto a grey balcony, with a metal handrail painted white, but chipped and rusted with age and disrepair.  Below, broken swings and a creaking see-saw.  Bottles, cans and mouldy paper bags.  The smell of piss and vomit.
    A grey door, just like all the others, yet every detail had been seared into her mind.  Every fleck of paint, every scratch and stain.  The precise way that it stood, not quite shut.  A crack, showing a last glimpse of the apartment beyond.  She could hear the muted sounds of shouting.  An argument.  A television turned up too loud.   T he dull th ump of a bass-line pounding through the concrete walls.
    She should go back.  Not walk away like this.  Go back and do something.  Do something, but she didn't know what.  She couldn't remember what she was doing here.  Couldn't remember what was beyond that door...   What could be so important.  What she was running away from.
    The thought lurked in the back of her mind, l ike a space where a tooth had been.  She felt the flaking paint of the railing, the rusted metal rough against her fingers.
    What was she doing here?
    The ugly space in the back of her mind.