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distance, moving in a steady drift. The figures didn t even glance at her. As they passed through the gates,
into the clear, soft light on the other side, they seemed to dissolve into nothing.
 Move along, said a raspy voice.  Don t hold up the line.
Her eyes followed the voice to its source. A dark form stood beside the gates, leaning on a cane. Its
back was hunched, its body wrapped in folds of heavy, black cloth, its face hidden by a hood. The
figure s hands -- the only part of it she could see -- were long, brown, thin and withered, more like the
hands of a mummy than a living person. She peered into the shadows within the hood, trying to see its
face, but there seemed to be nothing there, just a solid, formless darkness.
The man s head turned toward her. The hairs on the back of her neck rose. For a moment, she wanted
to turn and run as far and as fast as she could, but she suppressed the urge. The man -- if itwas a man --
hadn t done anything threatening. He just stood there, leaning on his cane, and looked at her. She
couldn t see his eyes, but she could feel the weight of his gaze.
 Hello, she said. Her voice sounded very small in the vast silence. Her heart knocked against her chest.
 Who are you?
 I am the Guardian of the Gates, said a flat, empty voice.  I monitor the passage of souls between the
world of the living and the world of the dead. He glanced at the line of misty forms again. A smaller form
had stopped and was looking around, faceless head swiveling back and forth, as if in bewilderment.
 Move along! said the Guardian, and waved a hand.  This isn t a sight-seeing tour.
The ghostly form scampered through the gates.
 But what amI doing here? said Linda.  Am I& dead?
 Of course not. You ve still got your cord, don t you? He pointed at the silver string trailing from her
navel.  You ve just left your body.
 But why?
 Why are you asking me? You re the one who came here. You must want something.
 The last thing I remember is falling asleep in bed. That must mean& is this a dream?
 It is. And it isn t.
Linda frowned.  I don t understand.
The man shrugged.
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 Just tell me, am I asleep right now?
 Your body sleeps.
Well, okay then. It was a dream. Yet in spite of that, she knew somehow that this was just as real as
anything in her waking life. Oh, this was confusing. Linda shook her head, dismissing the question. She
could try to puzzle it out later.  I guess as long as I m here, I may as well ask you some questions. You
said you re the Guardian of the Gates, and the gates lead to the world of the dead?
 Correct, the Guardian replied in its dead voice. The voice was like the whisper of dry autumn leaves in
the wind, like the stale, cold air inside a tomb.
The sound of it made her skin crawl, as if she were covered with ants, but she continued.  There s a
man I know. His name is Gregory.
 I know of him. The fool who sought immortality. He chuckled, a hollow sound like stones rattling
down an empty well.  He trained for years with a shaman, teaching his soul to fly from his body and
return& then he came here, to me, and demanded the secret to cheating death. Demanded! Like an
impudent child, puffed up with pride and self-importance.  And why should I tell you? I said,  when I
could strike you dead on the spot? Why should I share with you the secret that has eluded philosophers
and kings since the dawn of time?  Because, he replied,  I am Gregory, the greatest sorcerer on Earth.
One day I will be a god, and when that day comes, I will remember that you helped me. If you don t tell
me, I ll just find out some other way.  The Guardian chuckled again. He glanced at the procession of
spirits and waved along a few stragglers.  Keep going. Yes, right through the gates. He sighed.  You d
think they d be able to figure it out. Anyway& yes, Gregory. No doubt he regrets his grand ambitions
now.
 So he angered you, and you punished him by turning him into a spirit? asked Linda. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]