‘Well, well, well,’ he said, in the nasal voice Alice had heard a hundred times in her dreams. ‘Here you are. Not such a goody two-shoes after all.’

‘You don’t know anything about me,’ Alice snapped. ‘But I know that you want the Dragon. And I know how to get it.’

‘So I’m told,’ Vespidian drawled. ‘My friend Mr Black informed me that you wanted to make a deal.’

‘Something like that.’ Alice put one hand on the tree, steadying herself.

‘So what is it you want? Charms? Books? I can be very generous, I assure you.’

‘What did you offer Mr Black?’

Vespidian cackled. ‘Him? All he wants is a way out of his service to Geryon.’

‘That’s it?’ Alice frowned. ‘Just freedom? Are you going to give it to him?’

‘Of course not. He couldn’t deliver what I asked for. Besides, turn him loose on the world and the next thing you know he’ll be snatching children from their beds and devouring them whole. Some people have no grasp of the modern world.’ The fairy sniffed. ‘That sort of thing is so old-fashioned. But don’t be shy, girl. What do you want?’

‘I want you to answer some questions.’

Vespidian frowned, and hovered a little lower. ‘I’m not sure I like the sound of that.’

‘I don’t care,’ Alice said.

‘Now listen to me, girl. Just because Geryon has taken you as his apprentice is no reason to put on airs. You have a long way to go before you’re a proper Reader.’ He backed away from Alice. ‘I think this was a bad idea. I wouldn’t trust you to steal a book, anyway. Tell Mr Black—’

Alice yanked on the tree-sprite thread, wrapping it around herself until she could feel the vast bulk of the banyan tree beside her, pulsing with life like a beating heart. Compared to the tiny, bedraggled thing she’d used in the Dragon’s realm, the banyan was a monster, huge and bursting with energy. It was the easiest thing in the world to force a few of the hanging tendrils into action. They lashed out like whips, wrapping around the fairy’s fat midsection and holding him fast.

Vespidian jerked to a halt, wings straining but unable to make any headway against the vegetable strength of the vines. He struggled, spitting and cursing, and she gave him a moment to calm down.

‘Look,’ he said, after a few moments. ‘This isn’t going to get you what you want.’

‘You don’t know what I want,’ Alice said, willing the vines to pull him down towards her. ‘The night you came to my house, I saw you speaking to my father.’

There was a long pause. It was hard to read much expression on the fairy’s small face, but Alice thought he looked worried.

‘So that’s it, is it?’ he said. ‘This is something . . . personal.’