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Several people, both men and women, in dazzlingly bejewelled, long flowing robes and tunics came forwards, each bowing with the steepled hands, before patting or hugging the tiger. Galal stroked his short, well-kept beard with one hand and weighed his playing stones in the other. He watched Joe through half-closed green eyes that flashed in sharp contrast with his dark skin, and the matt black robes and turban that he wore.
 

After bowing somewhat awkwardly as he had seen Nandi do, Joe came to attention before the man’s inspection.
Pick me
, he thought absurdly, puffing himself up like any six-year-old being chosen for his first rugby match. Again, that hint of danger fought to infiltrate his thoughts, but drifted away before he got a grip on it.

Galal eased himself off the bench, rising to his full six-foot-three, and strolled over to Joe who stood as still as his shaking knees would let him, while the man slowly prowled around him. Eventually Galal reached out and hefted Joe’s slingshot in his hand.
 

“What kind of a jewel is this?” he said, giving himself a mild scare when he let it go and it bounced on its rubber strips before settling back on Joe’s chest.

“Er. It’s a catty... a slingshot,” Joe said, nervously reaching for the right description.

“Needs gemstones,” Galal said.

“Um, it’s not a jewel, sir, it’s a weapon,” Joe said, wiping the sweat off his top lip with the back of his hand. On some level he realised it was not a good thing to volunteer the information that he carried a weapon or even to speak at all but, with those green eyes on him, the truth just slipped out.

“Show me,” Galal gave Joe a good-natured pat on the back that somehow felt a hairsbreadth away from turning violent.

“What, in here?” Joe said, looking about him. He could not see anything in the room that would make a suitable target.

A lithe, elfin-looking lady in a blood red tunic over black pyjama trousers peeled away from the group of people who had followed Kitoko from the library and strolled over to a fruit bowl. Selecting a grapefruit, she strode over to an archway, open to the view of the valley below and held it out to the side of her. She nodded her head once, her pixie-cut hairstyle springing back into perfect place as she waited for Joe to shoot.

“Go on then,” she said, flashing a wicked grin.

Joe patted his pelt, where his pockets should be. “I... I need a pebble.”
 

Galal handed him an emerald playing stone.

Joe took the stone with shaking fingers and nocked it into the little leather holder of his slingshot. He pulled the rubber back, but not too far. He wondered if Galal would be angrier if his priceless playing stone went sailing down to the valley below, or if Joe accidentally hit the girl. He shut his eyes and prayed to Jimoh for the boy’s accuracy. Then he aimed and let the pebble fly.

It hit her in the rib cage; in that especially sensitive area right under her armpit.

Fifteen crocodiles glided across the glassy surface of the lake. Breezes did not reach the interior of the cavern. As the sun rose outside, it streamed through funnels in the ceiling, glinting off the myriad of tiny bits of glass and tin dangling from the ceiling, and casting a kaleidoscope of light reflections on the water.

Ethan lay on his stomach across the back of one of them. Socially, it was a lot more awkward than riding a horse. What do you say to an intelligent stranger who is giving you a piggyback across a lake, Ethan wondered? He would have preferred to ride on Darwishi. He was used to that. But, apparently, Amun and Darwishi had begun their transformation and would be sequestered for several days in a special cave. There had been no shortage of volunteers among the Sobek to transport the boys and Salih to the waterfall exit, though, so he felt sure they did not mind. Several Sobek crocodiles, with Sobek men on their backs, had joined them just for the ride.
 

Nuru, himself, rode upon the back of a friend to make sure they passed safely, and to try and persuade the boys to make a return trip someday to spend more time with the Sobek. His crocodile swam beside Tariro. The three of them discussed Tariro’s dad’s political campaign tactics. Nuru posed a question, and the two Sobek read the answers right out of Tariro’s head.

“Fascinating,” Nuru nodded, his eyebrows almost disappearing into the hairline of his wig.
 

Tariro shifted uncomfortably on his mount and tried to deflect the Sobek’s attention towards Ethan. “Ethan’s step-dad is a dot.com millionaire,” he said. “You should ask him what that is all about.”

Ethan ignored them. If he was honest with himself, he was quite enjoying watching Tariro squirm; he had learned a thing or two about political tactics himself in the last half-hour.
 

Trailing his hand in the magic on top of the water, Ethan could just make out the shapes of it shifting and changing and reshaping itself into its marble pattern by the light of his headlamp. He wondered what he would draw from the magic, given enough time. Not that he needed any more magical upheavals, but he wondered if he was absorbing enough of it to turn into something else, and what he would want to turn into. Would it hurt? Fisi had not seemed to suffer any great discomfort when he changed.
 

“It takes generations of living with the magic before you can change,” Salih told him. He lounged across the back of a crocodile swimming beside Ethan, looking unusually relaxed for a cat floating on top of the water.

“Oh, I don’t really want to,” Ethan said, jerking his hand out of the water.
 

“Don’t look so guilty, boy, you can have as much magic as you want. There is plenty to go round, and as you heard, what isn’t used is lost over the waterfall. The boy, Tariro, has drunk up enough to satisfy an elephant, and he has filled his water bottle with even more.” Salih rapped his unsheathed claws lightly on the hard hide of his crocodile ride and shook his head with an amused sigh. “The silly boy wants to become an osprey and fly. It won’t happen, of course.” Salih sheathed his claws and leaned over to pat Ethan’s hand. “Don’t worry, he will not become as powerful as you. You have the witch’s power, which is condensed, and the magic he carries with him will become destabilised just as soon as he shakes the bottle.”

Ethan wasn’t at all bothered if Tariro filled himself up with magic. He could take enough to
become
an elephant for all he cared, just as long as the boy didn’t do anything stupid, or read Ethan’s mind like the Sobek did and find out about the gems.
 

“I’m more worried about Jimoh,” he said to Salih. “He hasn’t said much since Kashka told us there would be no magic at Crystal Pools for a while. I know he would sacrifice anything to save Joe but I think he’s worried about his family.”

“Ethan, we have a difficult and dangerous journey ahead,” Salih said. “Jimoh will have to focus on staying alive himself, before he can turn his mind to helping his village. The Sobek have been bringing magic to the Crystal Pools for generations. Anyone who has been swimming there will have a bit of power. Jimoh, more than most, because he has taken your blood.” The leopard looked as if he had a sudden idea. “You could make him less worried if you want, but you would have to project into his mind. It would be... rude, and intrusive, and it would not be without some consequence to yourself.”

Ethan shook his head. Why did the leopard always have to make things so complicated? “I could just tell him not to worry, without being rude,” he sighed. “It wouldn’t stop him worrying though.”
 

“Or I could show you how to compel him with the magic. He wouldn’t be any the wiser,” Salih said.

Ethan was shocked – he wasn’t about to go hypnotising his friend without consulting him, even if he could.
 

On the other hand, it would be nice to see Jimoh relax, and they really needed their best ranger to have his wits about him if they were heading into lion country. Besides, so far Salih had not been very instructive about what Ethan could do with the power. Perhaps now was a good time to learn.
 

“Okay...”
 

“Close your eyes and imagine a drop of water. Imagine you could shape it into a crystal form,” Salih said.

“Like a snowflake?”

“Don’t know it. Does it reflect light?” Salih asked.

“I suppose it does, it’s a frozen drop of water,” Ethan said.

“Ah yes, like hail. Yes, that will do. Now imagine many, suspended in the air around you.” He waited until he was satisfied Ethan had imagined enough snowflakes. “Now, infuse each particle with reassuring thoughts, and gently push them towards Jimoh. With a bit of luck, as the thoughts bounce off each facet of the crystals they will split and multiply, bouncing off other crystals, much like mirror reflections, until there is an explosion of good will. Jimoh will be unable to resist.”

More like a nuclear explosion, Ethan thought worriedly, but he stared intently at Jimoh and tried. He thought reassuring thoughts about the world beyond the Crystal Pools: computers and the internet; computer games; shopping malls, with wonderful gadget shops... air conditioning. Then he imagined all these wonderful things of the snowflakes whirling around his head, and he nudged them gently towards Jimoh.
 

Suddenly Jimoh looked up at him, a puzzled grin spread across his face.

“Did you get my message?” Ethan said.

The boy shook his head, more confused than ever, and then he lounged back against his crocodile and whistled a low complicated tune. He looked happier, at least. Perhaps the exercise had been a success.

Salih laughed. “He can’t hear your actual thoughts, only the sentiment. Which is just as well. I don’t think Jimoh has a use for any of those strange things.”

Ethan did not respond because suddenly his senses started to tingle with the schizophrenic confusion in his brain pattern he’d had when he lost his temper with Tariro back at Crystal Pools. But this time something cold flowed into his head with it, and a chilling pain, worse than any brain freeze he’d ever experienced, lanced through him. It washed away as suddenly as it had come; seeping down his central nervous system and out of his body, leaving a foul metallic taste on his tongue, with a hint of the taste of snow.

Salih waited patiently for the pain to pass. “As I said, not without cost.”
 

Ethan put his hands up to his head and took a ragged breath, then slumped forwards against his crocodile, who, oddly, seemed to shake a little as he pulled through the water, with a definite grin on his face. Ethan glowered at the other smiling crocodiles. He wouldn’t be doing
that
again in a hurry.
 

The low murmur of rushing water grew into a roar.
 

Early morning sunlight filtered into the tunnel entrance. It was wider here, and the ceiling had grown so low they had to flatten across their crocodiles’ backs to avoid bumping their heads. The crocodiles discharged their passengers on a narrow path running beside the river and then slipped slowly back into the water one by one, oozing sadness and reluctance to part with their new friends. Nuru was the last. He reminded Jimoh several times to look out for a vine rope, hidden on the north side of the waterfall. It would assist them in their climb. Then, with a last invitation to visit in happier times, he slipped quietly away on the back of his friend.

Ethan crawled along the path, on his hands and knees, to the entrance of the tunnel, which opened out onto a ledge beside the waterfall. Pressing his stomach hard against the ledge, he looked over the edge of the precipice down into the rift valley. His heart pounded at the exhilarating feeling of being up in the air, and then lurched as a terrible wave of vertigo swept over him.

Jimoh crawled up beside him and flashed an unsteady smile. Even Tariro looked alarmed as his eyes followed the waterfall’s precipitous plunge down the vertical cliff into the valley far below.
 

“How the hell are we supposed to climb down that?” Tariro grumbled, settling down beside Jimoh.

The early morning sun bathed the nearby cliffs in an eerie pink glow, as if they were made of marble. On closer inspection Ethan realised they
were
marble. He wondered if it had something to do with the magic.

The valley spread out before them like a miniature topographical map. The river pooled below the waterfall before disappearing into a sizable swamp. Small rivulets emerged from the far side of the swamp, joining together again to continue their course eastwards where they met up with a wide river running from south to north across the valley.
 

“Eh, eh, eh!” Jimoh breathed in wonder, pointing out the thousands of flamingos gathered in the mud flats where the two rivers met.

In the far reaches of the south, a multi-tiered waterfall, almost obscured from view by its own spray, emptied itself into the river. Ethan shaded his eyes as he followed its path. It snaked its way through the middle of the wilderness, emptying into a vast lake, and then meandered northwards, finally lost to sight.
 

A green mosaic of crop fields clung to the eastern banks of the lake, dotted here and there with the early morning cooking fires of small settlements. Vast plains of game country spread away behind them to the distant mountains.
 

Jimoh bounced and pointed so excitedly beside him, Ethan had to remind himself that the boy had probably never experienced an aerial view above the bush.
 

“See there, Ethan,” he whispered, squinting into the distance. “Elephant. There, between big rocks and river.” He pointed towards a rocky outcrop and Ethan traced a line from it towards the river. A herd of forty or fifty elephants, mostly still under cover of thick msasa woodland, ambled towards the water.
 

“My people too,” Fisi said. “You may not see them because of their ability to melt into their surroundings. But there they are, tracking those impala.”