The librarian’s Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. ‘Well, you see, er, there’s, um…’

Winter was obviously growing impatient. He tapped his foot and glared at the man. No wonder he was nervous. We’d be here all day at this rate. I stepped up. ‘What’s your name?’ I asked softly.

‘Philip. Philip Maidmont.’

‘And you’re a librarian here?’ I questioned, ignoring Winter’s frosty demeanour.

‘Yes. Four years now. I’m Practicus but I never managed to proceed to Philosophus.’

‘Those exams are a bugger.’

He tittered slightly. ‘Yes, yes, they are.’

I ignored the question in his eyes about what level I was at and gently touched his arm. ‘Philip, can you tell us what wards were in place around the case?’

His eyes widened. ‘Oh, the very strongest. The Ipsissimus himself put them in place.’

‘When did that happen?’

‘After the swearing-in ceremony for last year’s Third Level witches.’

I calculated: that would have been during the Winter Solstice, which was almost five months ago. The Order liked using auspicious dates to add to the pomp and circumstance of their ceremonies. ‘And no one’s opened it since then?’

‘No, of course not.’

‘Thank you, Ms Wilde,’ Winter interrupted tautly. He focused on Maidmont. ‘When was the last time you saw the sceptre?’

Maidmont swallowed again, his eyes shifting nervously as if Winter were accusing him of stealing the damn thing. This time, at least, he held it together to answer. ‘Last night. I did the final rounds around ten o’clock.’

‘Bloody hell!’

Both Winter and Maidmont turned to me. ‘What is it?’

‘The library closes at ten?’

Maidmont nodded.

‘You have a thought, Ms Wilde?’ Winter asked.

‘I’m having several thoughts, Adeptus Exemptus Winter,’ I returned. ‘Who in their right mind is studying at ten o’clock at night? Clearly, they’re several sandwiches short of a picnic.’

Winter’s blue eyes filled with exasperation. ‘You have the logbooks?’ he asked Maidmont.

‘Yes, yes, I’ll get them for you. But everyone left.’ He shot me a look. ‘I made sure of it.’

‘Just get us the books,’ Winter demanded.

Maidmont half bowed and half curtsied, as if he couldn’t make up his mind how to treat either of us, then skedaddled downstairs.

‘You are not exactly helping,’ Winter informed me.

I crossed my arms. ‘I think I’m helping a lot. That poor man would still be trying to answer your first question if I hadn’t stepped in. Softly, softly catchee monkey.’ I shook my head. ‘Getting things done quickly takes a gentle approach sometimes.’

A muscle throbbed in his cheek. ‘I’m not interested in getting things done quickly, Ms Wilde. I’m interested in getting them done right. Now stay quiet and let me do my job.’

I rolled my eyes. Fine. I leant back against the nearest wall and let Winter go to it. Idiot man.

He withdrew a stick from the inside pocket of his jacket. It was similar to a chopstick in length, maybe a few inches longer. I stared at it then snickered. Was that supposed to be a magic wand? Winter ignored me. Using the wandy chopstick, he probed the display case. The moment the tip touched the glass there was a faint hissing sound and the stick turned green around the edges. It didn’t take a Second Level genius to realise that vestiges of the original ward were still in place. All the same, as far as I could tell the sceptre had been lifted right out of the case with incredible ease. Some ward.