“Ah,” said the Armourer reluctantly. “There are many stories about that. The one I tend to believe the most, because I dislike it the most, is that someone asked the Glass a very specific question, and got a very specific answer that disturbed the shit out of him. So he took the Glass and hid it, to prevent anyone else from asking the question, or learning the answer.”

“I can’t see this family giving up anything that useful so easily,” said Molly.

“I can,” I said. “The Droods have always been very cautious about anything involving time travel. Ever since the Great Time Disaster of 1217, when the family almost wiped itself out after inadvertently setting up a Möbius-strip time paradox. There’s still some rooms in the Hall we can’t find, because of what we had to do to break free. And we don’t even think about what might still be happening to the poor bastards we had to abandon in those rooms. The human mind just isn’t equipped to deal with all the possible complications and downright nasty ramifications of mucking about with time.”

And then I stopped short as an idea came to me, hitting me hard enough to stop my breath, while a cold hand curled around my heart. I looked into Merlin’s Glass, and my face stared back at me, so cold and harsh and determined I barely recognised it.

“Can I contact anyone in the past?” I said, and even I could tell that the voice didn’t sound like mine. It sounded reckless, and even dangerous. Everyone looked at me sharply. I think Molly got it first, perhaps because her mind had already begun moving along similar lines. I looked at the Armourer, and I think anyone else would have flinched at what he saw in my eyes. “I know it’s dangerous, and I don’t care,” I said. “Tell me, Uncle Jack, can I use this Glass to talk to my parents in the past, before they were murdered?”

“I’m sorry,” the Armourer said gruffly, kindly. “I thought of that. There’s always someone we’d like to speak to in the past. Friends and relatives and loved ones, gone too soon, before we could say all the things we meant to say to them. The things we put off saying, because we always thought there’d be time . . . until suddenly there wasn’t. But the Glass doesn’t allow anyone to ask questions for personal gain. Only for the good of the family. And the Glass can always tell the difference. A built-in safety factor, perhaps, to prevent . . . abuse of time.”

“Or perhaps the sorcerer Merlin Satanspawn just had a built-in nasty streak,” said Molly.

“There is that,” said the Armourer.

“I need to know what really happened to my father and my mother,” I said. “I will find out the truth, whatever it takes.”