She took a few minutes to rest once she got back to the cavern, just sitting cross-legged on the edge of the cliff. The spray still buffeted her, but it was not too strong. Mogget sat on the table, watching Aziminil, who was watching the falling stones. But the cat did not say anything as Clariel got up and came over to the table. His eyes narrowed, and his tail twitched, but he said no word.

‘I forgot to ask,’ said Clariel, as she wearily put her protective garments back on, fastening hood, gauntlets and overboots. ‘Are you coming with me?’

‘I cannot leave the House without the permission of the Abhorsen or the Abhorsen-in-Waiting …’ said Mogget thoughtfully. ‘But then, no Abhorsen has forbidden me to leave for a very long time … I wonder if I can … Do you want me to come?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Clariel. ‘Maybe. Yes. I just don’t know if I can trust you.’

‘Our interests are aligned,’ said Mogget very carefully.

‘I wish I could ask Bel,’ said Clariel. ‘But I know he’d try to stop me.’

‘There you are then,’ said Mogget. ‘The point, in any case, is moot. Neither of us may be leaving, unless you get on with it.’

‘I suppose so,’ said Clariel. She looked down at the green glass bottle with its tarnished silver stopper wound with gold wire. ‘Do you know what … who is in this one?’

‘There are spells of enquiry,’ said Mogget. ‘But I fear you do not know them. It doesn’t matter. I am sure … I am confident … you will prove stronger than the entity within.’

Clariel looked over at Aziminil, who was watching the fallen stones around the former door like a cat before a mouse hole. Then she looked back at the bottle. Such a small thing to contain a creature of elemental power …

‘Hesitation oft incurs a price,’ said Mogget. ‘One you might not be willing to pay.’

‘I make my own decisions,’ said Clariel, and called up the fury.

Mogget backed away as she stood rigid above the bottle, her fists clenched within the gauntlets. Once again she relived the night of her parents’ death, the smirk of Aronzo, the crushing boot of the guard outside Kargrin’s door, the darkness of the prison hole …

But the fury would not rise. Clariel bit her lip again, but even the blood in her mouth would not kindle the fire within. She had damped it down too far, and the spark was cold.