The next morning, Effie work early, feeling troubled. She always gave baby Luna her morning bottle and prepared her breakfast of porridge and fruit, if there was fruit, or golden syrup if not. If there was no porridge or fruit, then the sisters shared a golden syrup sandwich. Baby Luna loved golden syrup, and so did Effie. Effie had managed to hide a large can of it at the very top of the closet in her bedroom, where Cait, her stepmother, could never find it, knowing if she did she would either eat it all (on binge days) or throw it out (on diet days).

This term Cait was teaching evening classes on medieval manuscripts, and so usually didn’t get up until later in the morning. On weekdays Effie and Luna usually had their breakfast alone. But this was a Saturday, which meant that Orwell Bookend joined them. On Saturdays, while Effie spooned porridge and golden syrup into baby Luna’s bowl, and then tried to stop it going all over the floor, Orwell Bookend would read out “amusing” things from the local paper.

Normally Effie only half-listened to these. Occasionally, there was something funny. More often it was disturbing or violent and Orwell simply thought it was funny. But this morning Effie didn’t hear a word he said. She was still trying to work out what had gone so wrong in the Otherworld. She kept replaying the scene where Rollo was saying, in that definite way of his, We can’t have a galloglass in our midst. We can’t have a galloglass with access to the Great Library. Maybe he was right. Maybe Effie didn’t fit into their world.

“Listen to this,” said Orwell, chuckling. He read out some story about the local cats’ home that Effie didn’t even hear. She knew she was supposed to be laughing, but all she could do was sigh.

“So,” said Orwell. “Ready for a bit of slave labor?”

“I suppose so,” said Effie.

“What’s wrong with you this morning? I thought you were looking forward to coming to the university.”

“I was,” said Effie. “I mean, I am.”

“Your fat friend’s going to be there too.”

“Maximilian?”

“Yep.”

“How?”

“I asked him the other day. And Nightgown Girl.”

“Raven?”

“Yep. I can’t believe that any of my other colleagues will have managed to recruit THREE willing children to help them. I know Callie Quinn has two, although one of them is reluctant, I hear. We’ll have the Linguistics Faculty stall done in no time. And then I’ll release the three of you into the library to run wild. That was what you wanted, right?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Dad.”

“And you will try not to die in there?”

“I really don’t think it’ll be that bad.”

“You do know that the bit you probably want is down about five flights of dark and rickety stairs?”

“We’ll find it.”