a curtain instead of a door. The cat slipped round the curtain. Christopher flung the curtain aside and dived after it, only to find it was so dark beyond that he was once more blinded.
“Who are you?” said a voice from the darkness. It sounded surprised and haughty. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“Who are you?” Christopher said cautiously, wishing he could see something besides blue and green dazzle.
“I’m the Goddess of course,” said the voice. “The Living Asheth. What are you doing here? I’m not supposed to see anyone but priestesses until the Day of Festival.”
“I only came to get a cat,” said Christopher. “I’ll go away when I have.”
“You’re not allowed to,” said the Goddess. “Cats are sacred to Asheth. Besides, if it’s Bethi you’re after, she’s mine, and she’s going to have kittens again.”
Christopher’s eyes were adjusting. If he peered hard at the corner where the voice came from, he could see someone about the same size as he was, sitting on what seemed to be a pile of cushions, and pick out the white hump of the cat clutched in the person’s arms. He took a step forward to see better.
“Stay where you are,” said the Goddess, “or I’ll call down fire to blast you!”
Christopher, much to his surprise, found he could not move from the spot. He shuffled his feet to make sure. It was as if his bare soles were fastened to the tiles with strong rubbery glue. While he shuffled, his eyes started working properly.
The Goddess was a girl with a round, ordinary face and long mouse-coloured hair. She was wearing a sleeveless rust-brown robe and rather a lot of turquoise jewellery, including at least twenty bracelets and a little turquoise-studded coronet. She looked a bit younger than he was – much too young to be able to fasten someone’s feet to the floor. Christopher was impressed. “How did you do it?” he said.
The Goddess shrugged. “The power of the Living Asheth,” she said. “I was chosen from among all the other applicants because I’m the best vessel for her power. Asheth picked me out by giving me the mark of a cat on my foot. Look.” She tipped herself sideways on her cushions and stretched one bare foot with an anklet round it towards Christopher. It had a big purple birthmark on the sole. Christopher did not think it looked much like a cat, even when he screwed his eyes up so much that he felt like Tacroy. “You don’t believe me,” the Goddess said, rather accusingly.
“I don’t know,” said Christopher. “I’ve never met a goddess before. What do you do?”
“I stay in the temple unseen, except for one day every year, when I ride through the city and bless it,” said the Goddess. Christopher thought that this did not sound very interesting, but before he could say so, the Goddess added, “It’s not much fun, actually, but that’s the way things are when you’re honoured like I am. The Living Asheth always has to be a young girl, you see,”
“Do you stop being Asheth when you grow up then?” Christopher asked.
The Goddess frowned. Clearly she was not sure. “Well, the Living Asheth never is grown up, so I suppose so – they haven’t said.” Her round, solemn face brightened up. “That’s something to look forward to, eh Bethi?” she said, stroking the white cat.
“If I can’t have that cat, will you let me have another one?” Christopher asked.
“It depends,” said the Goddess. “I don’t think I’m allowed to give them away. What do you want it for?”
“My uncle wants one,” Christopher explained. “We’re doing an experiment to see if I can fetch a live animal from your Anywhere to ours. Yours is Ten and ours is Twelve. And it’s quite difficult climbing across The Place Between, so if you do let me have a cat, could you lend me a basket too, please?”
The Goddess considered. “How many Anywheres are there?” she asked in a testing kind of way.
“Hundreds,” said Christopher, “but Tacroy thinks there’s only twelve.”
“The priestesses say there are twelve known Otherwheres,” the Goddess said, nodding. “But Mother Proudfoot is fairly sure there are many more than that. Yes, and how did you get into the Temple?”
“Through the wall,” said Christopher. “Nobody saw me.”
“Then you could get in and out again if you wanted to?” said the Goddess.
“Easy!” said Christopher.
“Good,” said the Goddess. She dumped the white cat in the cushions and sprang to her feet, with a smart jangle and clack from all her jewellery. “I’ll swop you a cat,” she said. “But first you must swear by the Goddess to come back and bring me what I want in exchange, or I’ll keep your feet stuck to the floor and shout for the Arm of Asheth to come and kill you.”
“What do you want in exchange?” asked Christopher.
“Swear first,” said the Goddess.
“I swear,” said Christopher. But that was not enough. The Goddess hooked her thumbs into her jewelled sash and stared stonily. She was actually a little shorter than Christopher, but that did not make the stare any less impressive. “I swear by the Goddess that I’ll come back with what you want in exchange for the cat – will that do?” said Christopher. “Now what do you want?”
“Books to read,” said the Goddess. “I’m bored,” she explained. She did not say it in a whine, but in a brisk way that made Christopher see it was true.
“Aren’t there any books here?” he said.
“Hundreds,” the Goddess said gloomily. “But they’re all educational or holy. And the Living Goddess isn’t allowed to touch anything in this world outside the Temple. Anything in this world. Do you understand?”
Christopher nodded. He understood perfectly. “Which cat can I have?”
“Throgmorten,” said the Goddess. Upon that word, Christopher’s feet came loose from the tiles. He was able to walk beside the Goddess as she lifted the curtain from the doorway and went out into the shady yard. “I don’t mind you taking Throgmorten,” she said. “He smells and he scratches and he bullies all the other cats. I hate him. But we’ll have to be quick about catching him. The priestesses will be waking up from siesta quite soon. Just a moment!”
She dashed aside into an archway in a clash of anklets that made Christopher jump. She whirled back almost at once, a whirl of rusty robe, flying girdle, and swirling mouse-coloured hair. She was carrying a basket with a lid. “This should do,” she said. “The lid has a good strong fastening.” She led the way through the creeper-hung archway into the courtyard with the blinding sunlight. “He’s usually lording it over the other cats somewhere here,” she said. “Yes, there he is – that’s him in the corner.”
Throgmorten was ginger. He was at that moment glaring at a black and white female cat, who had lowered herself into a miserable crouch while she tried to back humbly away. Throgmorten swaggered towards her, lashing a stripy snake-like tail, until the black and white cat’s nerve broke and she bolted. Then he turned to see what Christopher and the Goddess wanted.
