For the first time she wondered if dragons had once really existed. These seemed modelled from life. In the middle of the dragon table there was a silver inkwell, very finely made and old, accompanied by several quill pens, a knife to cut them, a sheaf of paper and a blotter made from the dried sponge she had last seen in quantity, wet, in the fish market of Belisaere.

She pushed one of the high-backed chairs aside and bent down to cut a pen. Inking it, she held it above the paper, while Mogget watched from a safe distance on the other side of the table.

‘Oh no, you’ve got ink on your hand,’ he said, though she didn’t, or at least didn’t yet. ‘Best ask your sending for a wet cloth. Actually a wet cloth and a dry one, and perhaps a small bottle of spirits of hartshorn; that ink is very difficult to shift.’

Clariel spilled some ink on her hand, turned to the sending and repeated Mogget’s request. The sending bowed, and drifted out of the room. As soon as it was gone, Mogget leaped over to Clariel and began to whisper, his whiskers quivering because he was talking so fast.

‘That’ll only get us a few minutes. The ordinary ones aren’t very smart, but if it runs into one of the superior sendings it’ll be here in an instant. Do you still want to escape from the house?’

‘Yes,’ said Clariel. ‘But that’s not all.’

‘What else?’ asked Mogget.

‘I want to know where the silver bottle Tyriel brought has been taken.’

‘Ah-ha!’ cried Mogget. ‘I knew it. I smelt it on you, the lovely tang of Free Magic, and not just because you’re a berserk. Things come together, paths converge –’

‘What do you mean?’

‘When you held the creature, as Bel says you did, did it tell you its name?’ asked Mogget.

‘Yes,’ said Clariel. ‘Aziminil.’

Mogget’s eyes widened and his mouth curled up in a smile. He got up and circled around three times, tail almost whisking across Clariel’s face.

‘Aziminil, Ziminil, Zimminy-Az,’ he said. ‘Caught in Belisaere, you say. And now Az is here, and not completely put away, and so are you, and you’re a berserk and you want to get out when bridge, boat and Paperwing are barred against you.’

‘What are you talking about?’ demanded Clariel. ‘Quickly!’

Mogget stopped his circling.