Her fingers curled into a loose fist involuntarily.
‘Go on. Go on.’ Rannick’s encouragement was urgent.
In the jagged silence of the room, she heard the flame fluttering and hissing. It was like the gloating breath of some primitive animal. A faint but bitingly acrid smell struck at the back of her throat, and for an instant a sense of the dreadful unnaturalness of Rannick’s creation almost overwhelmed her. She fought the sensation back and somehow pushed her hand nearer to the flickering flame.
‘Yes,’ Rannick whispered, drawing out the word to mingle with the sound of the flame. ‘Touch it.’
Gritting her teeth, Marna willed her fingers to open. Her hand flinched back as it neared the flame, but, fearful of Rannick’s response, she forced it forward.
Abruptly, although she did not see i
