Free Crowned by Cheryl S. Ntumy Page B

energy, but no gifted signature. If it is a ritual of some sort it is very well protected.”
    “By a powerful, egomaniacal sorcerer?”
    He looks at me sharply. “We must not assume.”
    I sigh, frustrated but not surprised. Ntatemogolo always prefers to err on the side of caution.
    “We should get back to work,” he murmurs.
    My gaze drops to the book on the mat. I haven’t tried to open it since that first time. “Maybe I’ll have a breakthrough,” I remark, cracking my knuckles in preparation.
    “I doubt it,” he says cheerfully. “But there’s no harm in trying. Are you ready?”
    I take a deep, steadying breath. I focus all my attention on the book, letting my gift dance around it for a minute before trying to break through it. Like a human mind the book is surrounded by a barrier, only this barrier is artificial.
    When I read the Puppetmaster’s magic box I could see the words of the spell that protected it. All I had to do was unravel them, like pulling stitches from a piece of fabric. This is different. Ntatemogolo has put up a barrier to conceal the words in the book, and then a barrier to conceal the concealment. So far all I’ve done is walk my gift round the barrier, searching for a weak point that doesn’t seem to exist.
    “Take your time,” he tells me. “Focus.”
    Focus. There must be a crack. There’s always a crack. I just have to keep looking.
    Or you could break it open.
    What? Where did that thought come from? Break it open, indeed. Who am I, the Incredible Hulk? Despite my scepticism, the thought persists. I try to brush it aside. My gift is growing, but it’s not that strong. I can’t break barriers – I need a crack. I focus my gift, drawing all the filaments together into one point, centred on a spot in the barrier.
    No. Target the entire barrier.
    The voice echoes inside me. It’s the strangest sensation. It sounds like me, but calmer, steadier. I listen, waiting to hear it again, but all is quiet in my head. This must be related to my growing gift. I take a deep breath. I’ve never thought of targeting a barrier all at once. The logical thing to do is find a weak point. Then again, logic hasn’t got me anywhere so far. I shift tack, letting my gift spread across the barrier until the entire glowing ring is encircled by my energy. I breathe in and out, in and out…and then strike, squeezing hard.
    I keep up the pressure, though I see no sign of the barrier weakening. Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze… The barrier shatters in my mind’s eye, revealing the concealment. I sneak inside where I can see the stitches holding it together. I pick them apart one by one. I lift up the book and open it. Words appear on the pages, faint at first, then bold and clear in black ink. I laugh, thrilled by my success.
    I flip the book over so the open pages face my grandfather. “Ta da!”
    His jaw drops. He stares at me, speechless, and licks his lips. “How?”
    “Thinking outside the box,” I reply with a smug grin. “See, all this time I was looking for a crack. That’s my usual technique – look for the crack and force my way through it. This time I spread my energy across the whole barrier instead of one point, and it was much more effective. Like a bomb rather than a bullet.”
    “Graphic, but fitting,” he says wryly. He’s quiet for a while, then says, “Let’s try another one.”
    I feel almost invincible. I thought only Rakwena’s energy could make me feel that way. It’s good to know that I can be awesome all by myself.
    * * *
    I leave Ntatemogolo’s house giddy with triumph. I passed every test he set me. I’m eager to tell my friends, but my SMS won’t go through. I have to wait till I get home to call them and arrange a Skype chat for tonight. I’m surprised to find Dad home when I get in; he usually stays in the office till late, working on the Salinger project.
    “Your friend came by to deliver a gift,” he says as I head for the fridge.
    “Which friend?” I