Trilby examined the stranger's—Baraq's—change of expression thoughtfully. Maybe there was something in there beyond irritable vapidity, after all.

"There's no more time to talk," he said. "The longer we sit about, the more likely it is this reality shift becomes permanent. But if I'm right, there's a way to fix this." If he wasn't, then a lecture on spellcasting would save no one. "Besides," Trilby added, "we can't stay here any longer." He waved a hand at the gilded walls: Now that they looked, the hairline cracks in the paint seemed to be spreading.

In a few strides, he was at the double doors of the ballroom. "I'll know who I'm looking for when I find them," he said.