Early the next morning she went in search of Gilbert. His office was on the ground floor and she found him sitting behind his large oak desk. She was relieved to see a normal office with computer, printer and phone; suddenly her task seemed less formidable. Gilbert welcomed her in warmly, pleased to see her back in good health again. Sitting down, she got her thoughts together and explained what she wanted to do. Gilbert sat silently, his face guarded as he listened to her ideas. When she had finished he leaned back in his chair, sucking air through his teeth.

‘That, my dear, is quite a plan. Have you mentioned any of this to Wisby?’

Sara shook her head. Gilbert sat silently, thinking things over.

‘Well, I can’t think why you shouldn’t try, so let’s go find these rooms and start to make some phone calls,’ he finally said.

‘Oh,’ said Sara, remembering something else, ‘I want to arrange some driving lessons for him.’

At this Gilbert almost choked on a biscuit he was eating.

‘Sara, my dear, are you sure?’

She nodded. ‘If he can travel, he can start to explore the outside world.’

Gilbert shook his head. ‘He really doesn’t like cars at all and he could react very badly to that idea.’

But Sara was determined. 

‘Poor Wisby, he didn’t know what he was taking on when he found you, did he?’

She looked at him seriously. ‘I won’t let him down, sir.’

Gilbert walked around the desk and held his hand out to her.

‘John was right; you do have all the qualities of the Chosen. Come on, let’s get to work,’ and they spent the rest of the morning clearing rooms and ringing around phone companies and computer specialists. 

She found Father Wisby as usual, eating lunch, and dutifully followed him over to the Abbey that afternoon. He gave her a book on the history of the Barrier, while he sat sorting through a pile of books and papers. Finally he found what he was looking for and pushed everything else out of the way. It was a large book covered with green-coloured skin. He turned the fragile pages to one that had elaborately illuminated writing with pictures of dragons and a green monument depicting streams of shining light spreading out across the page.

‘This describes the opening of the Gates,’ he explained. ‘I will read it to you.

‘And a great light shone forth for all to see. She lifted her head high and roared. “The first Gate opens, may the others follow. May the Barrier hold strong and lands unite, Dragons awake and prepare to take flight”

‘This is a book of prophecy, not the past. Now look closely at the illustrations.’

Sara squinted at the picture. The bottom of the page had crumbled away but still visible was the image of the monument and two distinct figures. Her heart missed a beat. One was of a girl dressed in armour who looked just like her. The other was of a boy, also in armour. He was slight and smaller than her, but the oddest thing about him was his ears; they were pointed. The rest of the picture was gone, and that made her wonder what else should be in it.

Father Wisby handed the other book back to her.

‘Now this one talks of the history of the Gate. I have translated it for you so I will let you read it.’

Sara looked from one to another. Dragons, she suddenly thought.

‘Father, it talks about Dragons.’

He looked at her in surprise. ‘Well, yes, it would, the High Lord of the Sky is a Dragon,’ as if Sara should have known that.

‘Ah,’ said Sara, more calmly that she felt. ‘That explains it, then. Am I likely to meet one?’

Father Wisby grunted and nodded his head. ‘I would think so,’ he said absent-mindedly as he went back to his papers.

‘Well, I will look forward to that,’ she said sarcastically, but Father Wisby just nodded in agreement.

‘I hope I will get to meet her one day. I envy you, my father used to tell me stories about her.’

Sara looked at him stunned as he continued to study a book. If she was going to get Father Wisby to accept her world she had better try to understand his, but she began to have a sinking feeling that they were more different than she had imagined.

She had to concentrate on his curly writing but quickly became absorbed in the history of the Barrier.

So, she thought as she finished, the Barrier closed some thousand years ago, stopping wizards and elves moving to Earth. A lot of the document went into detail about the treaty and the roles of the wizards and the Elven Council. The most interesting section was about the Keys.

It was as Father Wisby had described - in each land elves and earthlings had been given the task of keeping the Keys until the time came for the Gates to reopen. At the time of opening the Keepers of the Keys would be named the Chosen and would come together in a Link Land to open the Gates. She sat back and looked around for Father Wisby, but he was nowhere to be seen, so she decided to have a wander around.

She noticed that each desk had carved names on it. Wisby’s had the name Bartholomew Breams. The next desk was carved with two names - Hilldra Roselyn and Thomas Roselyn. She wandered along the desks reading the names. Henry Fothrington and Rebecca Fothrington, George Saywood, William Whitberry, Martha Richards, Alistair Windmaster, Mabel Hilberton.  She was just about to read the names on the next row when Father Wisby and Beaver reappeared.

‘I have something to show you,’ he called excitedly, ‘come and look.’

She followed him into yet another cavernous room; this time the walls were covered with pictures. He pointed to a painting depicting an avenue of arches surrounded by small stone houses. In the background gigantic fir trees filled the skyline.

‘I think this is a Gate,’ he pointed out, ‘but I don’t know where or even if it is here or in Minuet. Look at the central arch - it is the same image as on the box.’

Sara studied the picture. ‘I don’t recognise this place,’ she said as her mind started to work fast, ‘but I think we need to research it.’

‘How can we do that?’ he asked. ‘It could take years to wade through these books and paintings and even then we may not find anything useful.’

‘No, not in here,’ she said, smiling, knowing her plan was falling into place far better that she had expected. ‘We will research by the Internet. It shouldn’t take us long to establish whether this place exists on Earth, and if it doesn’t, it must be in Minuet. Come on, we can use Gilbert’s computer.’

Father Wisby looked a little taken aback but before he could argue Sara grabbed his arm and as they walked back to the Hall she did her best to explain the Internet. They found Grace and Gilbert working through the Hall’s accounts when they arrived.

‘Come in, you two, what can we do for you?’ Gilbert’s eyes twinkled at Sara.

‘Can we have use of the Internet?’ she asked formally. ‘We need to do some research.’

Gilbert’s face remained fixed in its normal charming smile but Grace could not conceal her amazement.

Gilbert nodded seriously, however. ‘Of course you can, I will set up an access code for both of you.’

He offered his desk chair to Father Wisby, who hesitantly sat down in it and stared at the computer screen while Gilbert explained what he was doing. Gilbert then quickly ushered Grace out before she did something to upset Wisby.

Father Wisby, however, had remained transfixed, moving his eyes from the keyboard to the screen to the mouse. Sara took over, gently explaining each action and encouraging him to use the mouse. She typed in ‘Ancient Monuments’, and selected one of the sites. Father Wisby’s eyes widened as he watched Sara scroll through pictures and details. Suddenly he jumped.

‘That picture,’ he said excitedly, ‘I recognise it. I need to go back to the library.’

Sara clicked ‘print’ and wandered over to the printer. Father Wisby stared in bewilderment as she handed him the copy, looking back and forth between the screen and the printer. She closed the computer down, and while he hurried off back to the library she went back to her room, tired but quite pleased with herself. She knew she had captured Father Wisby’s interest; a few more days and she would have him hooked.

Music drummed through the corridor, and when she entered the kitchen Mrs Budd and some of the staff sat moaning.

‘Ruth is back,’ explained Mrs Budd, ‘and she isn’t very happy. It’s best if we just leave her, I just wish she would turn down that racket.’

Sara did not known much about Ruth apart from she was the other girl who the Hall had taken in and had been spending the summer holidays with her parents and if all went well she would move back with them.

‘Leave her be, Sara, she needs a little time to be angry. Her family decided they didn’t want her with them after all.’

Sara could not imagine anything more awful and so took Mrs Budd’s advice and went off to find Mr Stanford. Beaver followed, and at a more discreet distance her guards. She sighed - just another little problem to solve. Mr Stanford was in the great greenhouse. He stopped what he was doing when he saw her and found his tea flask and a packet of biscuits.

‘I heard you were feeling better,’ he said as he handed her a cup of tea and a biscuit.

‘I’ve come to say thank you, Mr Stanford. I remember it was you who rescued me.’

‘I’m just sorry it had to happen to you,’ he said. ‘The scum that did that to you should lose their right to life.’ And he spat on the ground.

‘Was it the same Black Wizard that killed Grandmother?’ she asked.

‘More than likely,’ Mr Stanford grumbled, banging his flask down hard on the table, ‘but don’t you worry, he will get what’s coming to him.’

‘Mr Stanford, did you talk to me in my sleep about warfare and tactics?’

‘I didn’t think you would remember that, lass. Emma said we must all keep talking to you, so I talked about what I know best,’ he confessed, looking slightly embarrassed.

‘How come?’ she asked, and to her surprise Mr Stanford abruptly became rather edgy, as if caught out.

‘I haven’t always been a gardener,’ he finally explained. ‘I was in the army when I was younger.’

That made sense to Sara, but she realised that she still did not know anything about these people. She needed to learn more about them. Mr Stanford stared into space and continued to look worried, even a little guilty. It was the kind of vacant stare she had often seen on Father Wisby’s face.

 ‘Mr Stanford, would you teach me?’  she asked, and he turned to look at her in surprise. ‘I would like to be able to protect myself, and if I am going into the unknown your information may be useful.’

She took a deep breath, hoping he would agree to her request.

But Mr Stanford suddenly beamed.

‘I would love to, and I would be happy to teach you some self-defence techniques and maybe how to use a bow.’

Sara left, happy with their arrangement. Now Ruth, she thought, but the racket coming from her room dissuaded her. Maybe tomorrow, she told herself.

It was late evening before she pushed Beaver off her bed and opened her grandmother’s case. Taking out the mirror, she stared into it.

‘Where are you?’ she thought. After seeing the picture in Father Wisby’s library she now had to be sure. As if being called, the reflection of a boy appeared and she was in no doubt.

‘You are him,’ she thought, ‘you and I are the Keepers of the Keys.’ The boy stared at her.

‘Can you see me?’ she whispered.

He seemed so serious as he looked at her, and then he frowned before disappearing.