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the sword under one arm. It will serve you, the note had said, as you have served me.

Chapter Five
    Perfect was Gweir’s prison in the courts of the Otherworld.
    Spoils of Annwn
    â€œO f course, I’ll be expecting you to pay rent. It doesn’t have to be much, in the beginning, but the principle is important, Cal. You’ve left home. You’ll have to pay your way from now on.” It was hardly much of a welcome. Trevor dumped the rucksack in the car truck. He was a small man, meticulously neat, his coat dark over the business suit. “I’m glad you’re not loaded down with stuff,” he said, dusting his hands. “I hate the place cluttered.”
    â€œNot much to bring,” Cal muttered.
    He was weary. The journey from Ludlow had been a nightmare. Waiting ages, then having to buy a new ticket because his had been for yesterday, then missing the connection at Newport. He wanted to moan about it but his uncle didn’t even ask, just sat in beside him and looked at him. “You’re taller.” His gaze settled on Cal’s crumpled shirt, the cheap, useless jacket. Saying nothing, not needing to say it, he turned and started the car.
    They drove down through the steep, narrow streets of the small town, through the arch in the old walls. Afternoon shoppers were few on the pavements; across the housetops fading bunting flapped in the rain. The shops were small. Smaller even than Bangor. Cal sighed.
    â€œSo what was it like?” Trevor asked.
    â€œSorry?”
    â€œThe hotel. What sort of bill am I going to get?”
    Cal pulled a tiny thread off the cuff of his shirt. “None.”
    His uncle looked at him quickly. “Come into money?”
    â€œI’ve been saving. A long time.”
    Trevor nodded. “I’m glad to hear it. Still got that account I started for you?”
    â€œYes.” It had been their secret. His mother had never known, because if she had she would have had the money out, wasted it, drunk it away, and it was his. All the savings from his weekend job had gone in there, every penny. For months now he had waited eagerly for every statement, watching how the tiny amounts of interest had been added on. He’d even gone without food sometimes, if she’d given him anything for a takeaway, just to have the pleasure of adding to it. A secret, vivid pleasure.
    â€œI rang Annie last night.” Trevor turned the wheel; the car went around the traffic circle and climbed the hill. His lips were tight with distaste. “To be honest, I don’t think she took in a word I was saying. ‘Where’s Cal?’ she kept asking. As if she was expecting you home for tea. She does know, doesn’t she, that this is for good?”
    â€œI’m sick of telling her.” Cal watched the houses pass grimly.
    â€œAnd that medication she’s on, is it any use?”
    â€œWhen she takes it.” He didn’t want to think about her. Not now. He didn’t want the shadow of her to spoil this. The car had turned into a quiet cul-de-sac called Otter’s Brook, lined with houses. New, expensive houses. Cal looked at them with satisfaction, and a sort of pride. They were detached, double-glazed, well-cared for. Some had double garages. A new kid’s bike lay in the drive of one, right out in the open, as if it was safe to do that here. Big cars were parked by immaculate green lawns.
    Trevor reversed the car into a sloping driveway lined with terracotta pots and pulled up carefully. “This is it. I’ll let you in, and then I’ll have to get back to the office. You can make yourself at home.”
    Cal bundled the jacket under one arm, carefully rewrapping the sword’s dangerous blade. He wished he’d left the hateful thing behind. But somehow it was important. It was his sanity; the only thing that proved that Corbenic had been real.
    He waited while Trevor unlocked the white door with its gleaming