"What I don't get," Will says several minutes later as you walk along the corridor lined with windows, "is why Matron can't just do it."
"Because they know that Lady Rastan'll come down on whoever breaks into her office so hard and fast that she'll leave a crater," Sonia says glumly. "The end of the world might be less trouble."
"Guess we'll find out soon," Max says, coming to a halt with the rest of you. In front of your group, formed out of black wood, is a large door. A face, twisted in a tortured grimace, stares out at you through pleading eyes. A brass plaque on the door next to her reads, "Lady Rastan, M.mag, Ph.D."
As doors go, it feels like a fit.
For a long time, no one moves. It seems that everyone is waiting for someone else to do, or say, something.
Finally, Michelle reaches forward, trying the handle. The door doesn't open. The carved face, however, twists, becoming suddenly mobile, its eyes fixing on you.
"She's not in," the door snarls. "Push off, brats. No entry." The face freezes again, now locked in an irritable glare.
"Well," Sonia says eventually. "Always nice to be wanted."
"Usually, I'd be happy to stay outside her office," Max admits. "But we probably should get inside somehow."
"Of course," Romilly says. "The question is how."