All around, growing out of the soil in incredible profusion, were mushrooms. These ranged from whole banks of familiar-looking fungi a few inches high, topped with caps or puffballs, to truly enormous specimens taller than Alice was. The bigger they were, the stranger their shapes, dividing into many quivering branches or forming neat, concentric rings like a wedding cake. They came in all colours too, not just the drab grey and brown of ordinary mushrooms. She could see streaks of green, red, violet and royal blue in the light of the bonfire.

Ashes stood at the edge of the pond, back arched, trying to keep his body as far away from the ground as possible. He caught Alice’s eyes with his yellow ones and gave an exaggerated sigh.

‘I don’t know how he stands the damp,’ the cat said. ‘It’s a nasty little hole, if you ask me.’

‘Who is “he”? Is someone living in here?’

‘All in good time.’

Alice gave the cat a cross look. ‘You’re not being very helpful.’

‘No,’ Ashes said, sounding pleased with himself. He yawned. ‘However, perhaps a little quid pro quo is in order. Do me a favour, and I’ll answer your questions.’

‘A favour?’ Alice narrowed her eyes. ‘What kind of favour?’

‘Let me ride on your shoulder,’ Ashes said, holding up his front paw. ‘This stuff mats my fur something awful.’

Ashes was lighter than he looked. She lifted him to her shoulder and he shifted around until he found a comfortable position, the tips of his claws pricking through the thin fabric of her nightshirt. His tail flipped back and forth against her shoulder blades.

‘All right,’ Alice said. ‘So where are we?’

‘Hmm?’ Ashes said. ‘We’re in the library, of course.’

‘You don’t have to be clever about it,’ Alice said. She pushed a foot into the ground, which squelched. ‘This doesn’t look like any library I’ve ever been in. And it certainly doesn’t look like the library out’—she gestured vaguely—‘there.’

‘I’ve never been in another library, so I wouldn’t know,’ the cat said. ‘But you’re right. “Out there” is what you might think of as the front parlour. This is Master Geryon’s private collection.’

‘But—’

‘He keeps his really important books here. But they start to . . . leak, after a while, and you end up with places like this.’

‘Leak?’ Alice frowned. ‘Books have always seemed fairly solid to me. Paper, leather, ink. How can they leak?’

‘I can see that you’re an expert,’ Ashes said, with injured pride.

‘Sorry,’ Alice said. ‘What books are we talking about?’

‘Look at one of the big mushrooms,’ the cat said. ‘Like that one just there, see?’