Ember smiled bravely; "you must be Mortimer. It's a pleasure to meet you. Don't be alarmed at my friend here -" She gestured to Crispin who was crouching behind her, trying to fade his outline sheepishly, "he's perfectly safe and means you no harm. We are acquaintances of your nephew, Anar. We were hoping to find him here..."

"Well, you're not going to! This is private property, get out!" he snarled, flicking his cane irritably.

Ember frowned and turned, hissing, "he's not here."

"So I heard. What now?"

"I don't know. I could try asking, but I think Mortimer's just going to shout again."

Crispin thought a moment, "if Anar was here, he'd probably tell Mortimer to say he wasn't, right? He'd be expecting demons to come after him." He stood up and walked forward, tentatively, giving a little cheery wave, "I'm Anar's best friend, Crispin Huttgart. He might have mentioned me? I helped him escape the Underworld. That's why he's come back. If he's hiding, I understand, we just want to know that he's safe."

"I wouldn't come any closer if I were you," Mortimer frowned, reaching for a brass bell on a chain by the doorframe.

"I... I can prove I'm his friend," the demon human gulped as the elderly aardvark's stare bore into him.

The reply was icy, but open to persuasion, "oh, can you now?"

"He showed me... a page from a book. A special book. One that nobody could read..."

Mortimers eyes slowly widened and he nodded for Crispin to continue, his hand withdrawing from the alarm.

"It's... written in Draconish. I... I can read it. It said about a dragon and a Tri-Horn staff of sorts that murdered Anar's ancient ancestor."

"You can read it?" the aardvark snapped.

Crispin nodded. "I know about Anar's natural magic. I've seen him use it. He saved me. He saved my father. He always said he would come back here, to his ancestral home, to live with you."

Mortimer's shoulders sagged and he briefly looked away, sniffing and blinking. "I have not seen my nephew in many years. I miss him dearly. I worry about him daily, no - hourly! I'm sorry to say he isn't here, no matter what his wishes may have once been."

Ember spoke up, "there's a reason we're here," she said, "I spent enough time around Anar to understand that he summons people exactly when he needs them. He's brought us here, now, today, for a reason. He might not be at Warlock Court, but the Book of Warlock is, and Crispin can read it."

Mortimer nodded, "yes, yes I always knew one day someone would read it. I thought it would be Anar. It wasn't. I can't express my disappointment when he turned the pages and shrugged at me. Especially after the Nightmare had appeared to him," he added bitterly.

"So... can I look at it?" Crispin asked, rather eager for a chance to show off his linguistic skills in front of Ember.

He sighed a deep sigh, "I would be lying if I said I had not wanted to know what was in that book my entire life. It's one of the few relics I have left from the past."

"Like the bag!" Crispin exclaimed.

"Does he still have it?' Mortimer asked, his mouth turning up into a faint smile.

"You betcha! It's amazing. The Ferrari is pretty cool, too."

He clutched his hand to his chest, beaming, "I knew he would look after my gifts. He was too good for Hell!"

They entered the grand house together, past empty sunlit rooms and faded carpet, worn cabinets and peeling wallpaper. It had once been beautiful but time had passed and money had not been invested in its upkeep. Mortimer apologised as the climbed a winding staircase, "I have no children of my own and I lost all hope when my brother had Anar. We had waited hundreds of years for the last name on the scroll to be allocated to a Warlock child. I knew it was the end for us. My brother was not interested in our magical heritage, he only wanted money and power. He would bring up Anarchy to be just like him." He paused on the top step, "I should have had faith. Anar turned out to be far greater than anything I could have hoped. If he really is out of Hell and trying to come back home, I will bring the castle back to its former glory in celebration."

He led them down a cold corridor to where a tower rose out of the slated roof. Inside was a wooden table with a glass cover. Inside lay an old book, stained and curled-edged.

"This really has seen better days," Crispin mumbled.

Ember nudged him, "don't be rude!"

Mortimer coughed, "It's true. Many have turned the pages; none have read a single line. The pictures are nice." He raised the glass and allowed the demon to turn to the bookmarked page.

They stood in silence for a few minutes while he read. "This could take a while," he frowned.

"We've waited five hundred years," Mortimer grinned, taking a seat at the window. A small cloud of dust glimmered in the air.

"I'd better start at the beginning. I don't know who Threllif is yet." The bookmark was placed on the wooden table with a metallic clink.

"Wait... wait wait wait," Ember reached across for it.

"Gimme a minute, will ya?"

She held it up, close to her face, turning it this way and that. "Do you know what this is?"

"Yes," sighed Crispin, "it's a book mark. Very handy for keeping your place in a book, or so I hear."

"I'll clip you round a red ear in a minute."

"What did you expect me to say?" he argued.

"It's very pretty, isn't it?" Mortimer added.

She waved it in front of them both, agitatedly, "this isn't a bookmark! Look at the little crystal, the etched lines, the tiny circles..."

Crispin pursed his lips, "mmm." He clearly had no further comment.

"It's a Gate Activator!" she cried. "This crystal comes from another universe entirely. They're incredibly rare!"

"Oh! So... Mortimer could sell it and fix up the house?"

"No, you idiot! You can open a Gate with it!"

"What, like... a portal?"

"Exactly like a portal! You put this in the console and enter your Destination Code."

Crispin furrowed his brow, "that's great, but we don't have a portal console, or a code to go anywhere. I'll carry on reading, shall I?"

Mortimer shuffled up to the demonologist, "what do these... consoles... look like?" he whispered.

Ember shrugged, "like a little side table, usually made of metal. There's a number-pad close by, usually."

"Are there... err... funny squiggles?"

She flapped her mouth for a second, "can be... on the really old ones. Our sequences don't need them because we don't travel in time."

"Ah. Interesting." He turned to Crispin, "how's it going?"

He groaned and shook his head, "Draconish is tough. I'm good, but, the thing with dragons is they struggle to be linear. It jumps about a bit. Look, even the page numbers are all out of order! Some of them aren't even numbers, see?" he pointed to a loopy squiggle and to two different pages with the same number. "You can't really read it front to back." He flipped through to the back page and tried there, "it's not back-to-front, neither. Maybe I need a notepad?"

"Crispin..."

"What?" he looked up to see Ember's face and the look of pure shock upon it. "Well, what?"

"They're not page numbers."

Crispin looked cross, "oh, of course. It's the code thingy, must be, that's what you're going to say, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Well, I hope it goes somewhere nice, I need a holiday."

"You don't understand! It's got the time elements, Crisp. This destination is in another time. The Book of Warlock has held all this for hundreds of years inside its pages, and we were meant to find it. You wanted to see because you could read it and I knew what the bookmark and page numbers meant."

"We don't have a console!" the demon huffed.

"Actually..." Mortimer smirked, "I think we do."

The third floor of the building was the eeriest. Damp from the roof had seeped and lent it a musty air. A draft rustled the splintering windowsills as they walked towards a broken door. Mortimer stood and touched the damaged wood. "Anar did this, when he visited the first time. He probably hoped I'd never come up and find it. I wouldn't have if it wasn't for a strange dream I had that compelled me. It's not exactly... structurally sound up here."

"Now he tells us," Crispin murmured to Ember.

"Shh!"

"What I found was nothing short of bizarre. It looks like something from the future, which is impossible as I have all the records from past furnishings and repairs and nothing on the third floor has been touched since the time of our ancestor. Certainly not in my living memory." He carefully pushed the remains of the door inward.

"It's all metal," Crispin marvelled. "A metal room."

"Look at the star charts! Oh my goodness. This is a satellite image of Earth," Ember pointed, "here's a map of our galaxy. I don't even know what this is."

They peered at an image of a ringed planet, taken from space. It was strangely dark. It was not Saturn, that was for sure.

"Five hundred years, eh? So, this code, it's going to take us back to see your ancestor?" Crispin asked Mortimer.

"Wouldn't that be marvellous? General Warlock, the great and powerful mage, able to tell us his story in his own words."

Ember slotted the bookmark-turned-portal-gadget into a thin gap on the side of the metal console. The raised dais in the centre of the otherwise bare room hummed. "Ok, now to tell it where we want to go. Just type in our handy dandy fifty-digit number with added squiggles."

"I don't want to be a party pooper, but I'm assuming if we get a bit wrong we're going into the vacuum of space or the middle of a volcano or..."

"I'll double and triple check, Crisp, stop panicking. Anyway, you'll just pop up back in Hell, it's alright for you!"

"It's an adventure," Mortimer grinned. "I lived my whole life and never had one single adventure, I'm ready!"

Crispin leaned into the aardvark's long grey ear, "if anything happens to you, can I have the E-Type on the drive?"

Mortimer smacked the demon in the leg with his cane. "I can see why Anar liked you. You have the same humour."

"Owowow. Just asking. Just asking."

A dazzlingly bright, blue swirly circle appeared in the air upon the dais.

"It looks like the Abyssal gate," Crispin remarked.

"All portals are the same. This is a home rig, not as modern as what the Council have, that's why it's all metal. It prevents interference from outside energy."

"But it's all secret, right? Ordinary citizens aren't supposed to know about Gates and stuff."

Ember gave him a look, "whatever their ancestor was, I think we can safely say he wasn't an ordinary citizen."

Mortimer chuckled in agreement. Then he stepped up onto the thick, flat metal plate, "I want to go first. If my ancestor is across this divide, I want to be first to see him. I've waited a lifetime."

"Yeah, sure, go for it, man."

"Crisp, you're losing that heroic edge of yours," Ember tutted sarcastically.

"Ladies first?" he grinned as Mortimer disappeared.

"If you want to date me, you've got to step up. Especially as we're meant to be professional enemies. Lots of challenges ahead."

"Alright, alright," he gave her big eyes, "just for you."

She gave him a hard shove, "see you in a minute!" she laughed as he stumbled backwards into the blue.