Pita looked up. Now she, too, could see what had startled Cat. A spiral pattern was forming on the ceiling, swirling inward through the grimy glass to coalesce at the spot at which Aziz was staring. It was fantastically bright, as difficult to look at as the sun. In another second the brilliant light formed a tornado spout. It spiraled down, down, closer to Aziz. As it approached him, he chanted faster. A frightened look crept into his eyes. Face locked in a grimace, he screamed at the thing that had formed above his head. His face was awash with light. The candle in his right hand flared brilliantly, was consumed in one burst. The earth in his left hand turned to ash. Aziz screamed as blisters erupted on his face and hands, and turned his head aside, his eyes screwed shut. He seemed to be struggling, unable to move.