“I
think I'm getting the hang of this,” Robert says, looking at the
notebook he's just imagined into his hand. He puts it on the ground,
alongside the marble, pen, scissors, comb, tin can and yo-yo he's
created while practising.
“Okay,
one more,” he continues, closing his eyes and concentrating.
“Let's have a gun this time.”
“I'd
advise against that,” Tom tells him. “Guns do unexpected things
here in the Weave, and it's not as if you can kill anything here
anyway.”
“If
you say so,” Robert replies. “Well then, a sword.” In moments
he feels a cutlass in his hand, heavier than he was expecting.
“Very
good,” Tom says, “Now why don't you try for something bigger.”
