‘Then there is hope for you yet,’ said the cat. ‘I believe you wanted to see the Abhorsen’s study?’

Clariel saw the glint in Mogget’s eye and correctly deduced this was part of his plan to get rid of the eavesdropping sending.

‘I would,’ she said. ‘If I am allowed.’

‘I am a great believer that anything not expressly forbidden is explicitly allowed,’ said Mogget. ‘What did your grandfather tell the sendings when you first arrived?’

Clariel thought for a moment.

‘I think he said I should be treated as his granddaughter and guarded, but not to be allowed to cross the bridge, step into a boat or a Paperwing,’ she said.

‘The sendings are very literal,’ said Mogget. ‘Hmm … “Not allowed to cross the bridge, use a boat or Paperwing.” That was rather lax of Tyriel. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised at his ignorance. Follow me.’

Clariel followed the cat into the tower reading room and then up the narrow staircase. The study above was also lined with shelves and many books, but Clariel’s attention was immediately drawn to the one glassed-in cabinet set among them, home to a single book bound in pale green leather with silver clasps. It was as if the book were watching her, as much as she watching it.

Mogget saw her staring.

‘The Book of the Dead,’ he said. ‘Best left alone.’

‘I am an Abhorsen,’ said Clariel. She remembered Bel talking about this book, how it contained the knowledge the Abhorsens needed to enter Death and return, how to wield their seven bells to bind and command the Dead. The book itself was fascinating. It was like she was watching an animal, waiting to see where it would spring, being on guard in case it attacked but also tensed to pursue if it fled. ‘Doesn’t that give me the right to read it?’

‘No,’ said Mogget. ‘You’re one of the family, sure enough, but only the Abhorsen or the Abhorsen-in-Waiting can read that particular book.’

‘Bel told me he read it,’ said Clariel. ‘And he thought Yannael hadn’t, maybe even Tyriel had never read it.’

‘Like I said,’ replied Mogget.

‘What?’ asked Clariel.

‘People seem to have got confused about who’s who and what’s what since I last got let out of this house,’ said Mogget, which didn’t help Clariel at all. ‘Now, you wanted writing materials, I believe?’

‘Um, yes,’ said Clariel. She was still thinking about what the cat had said. ‘But everyone calls Yannael the Abhorsen-in-Waiting … you mean she isn’t?’

‘Everything you need is on the desk,’ said Mogget. ‘Be very careful you don’t spill the ink.’

Clariel looked at the massive redwood desk. Each corner of the tabletop was adorned with intricately carved dragon heads. The dragons all had individual expressions; she could see the character of each of them: melancholy, angry, happy and a fourth had its eyes closed, apparently asleep.