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’
Forget
it
.
If
I
try
any
magic
in
here
now
it
’
ll
blow
our
heads
off
.
This
little
reality
is
too
small
to
contain
it
.
’
Mort
sagged
against
the
remains
of
the
altar
.
He
felt
empty
,
drained
.
For
a
moment
he
watched
the
sizzling
wall
of
the
interface
drifting
nearer
.
He
’
d
survive
it
,
he
hoped
,
and
so
would
Ysabell
.
Cutwell
wouldn
’
t
,
but
a
Cutwell
would
.
Only
Keli
—
’
Am
I
going
to
be
crowned
or
not
?
’
she
said
icily
.
’
I
’
ve
got
to
die
a
queen
!
It
’
d
be
terrible
to
be
dead
and
common
!
’
Mort
gave
her
an
unfocused
look
,
trying
to
remember
what
on
earth
she
was
talking
about
.
Ysabell
fished
around
in
the
wreckage
behind
the
altar
,
and
came
up
with
a
rather
battered
gold
circlet
set
with
small
diamonds
.
’
Is
this
it
?
’
she
said
.
That
’
s
the
crown
,
’
said
Keli
,
nearly
in
tears
.
’
But
there
’
s
no
priest
or
anything
.
’
Mort
sighed
deeply
.
’
Cutwell
,
if
this
is
our
own
reality
we
can
rearrange
it
the
way
we
want
,
can
’
t
we
?
’
’
What
had
you
in
mind
?
’
