“I expect there’ll be some good healing books down here that you can’t get anywhere else,” said Raven to Lexy. “I’m looking for a healing spell myself. One of the tarantulas is a bit off-color. I’ve tried everything else I can think of.”

“I’ll help you find it,” said Lexy, smiling gratefully at her friend.

“What are you looking for in the library?” Raven asked Effie.

“Books on the Otherworld,” said Effie. “Otherworld customs, histories . . . I won’t know exactly until I find it.”

“I thought you already knew everything about the Otherworld,” said Maximilian.

“Apparently not,” said Effie.

“Is that why you suddenly need more deepwater so quickly?”

“Sort of.”

“Has something happened?” asked Maximilian.

Effie sighed. Where would she begin? She couldn’t tell the whole story of what had happened in Frog Hole. She didn’t want her friends to think that there was even a possibility that she might be a galloglass. They might start speculating about her like Rollo had done, and she couldn’t risk that. Perhaps Maximilian would understand, but she couldn’t tell him with the others here.

“It’s all right,” said Effie. “It’s boring. I’ll tell you some other time.”

The children made their way down the last twisting flight of stairs and suddenly there it was. SPECIAL COLLECTIONS. This was presumably what it had once said. Now it simply said SP I L COL ONS. The sign was—or had once been—a handsome wooden rectangle with gold lettering hanging from a brass chain above an ancient-looking oak rolltop desk. But the chain was now tarnished and the sign was draped with cobwebs. The desk, however, was tidy. It was the only thing in the whole library that seemed free of dust. On the desk was yesterday’s edition of the Old Town Gazette, open at the cryptic crossword.

“What do you want?” said the man sitting behind the desk. He was small and wrinkled and had an awful lot of facial hair, all of it red.

“Who are you?” said Maximilian.

“I am the Special Collections librarian,” said the man. “Who are you?”

“I’m Euphemia Truelove,” said Effie stepping forward. Her name sometimes had a helpful effect on elderly magical people who remembered her grandfather. But not this time.

“And?” said the man, unimpressed. “We don’t usually have children down here. In fact, we don’t usually have anyone down here. Been quite a rush on today, though. Very curious indeed. Very curious.”

Lexy sighed. “Come on. We might as well go. He’s not going to let us in.”