‘I see that you’re awake,’ he said, setting the mug on the nightstand. He settled himself in the chair beside the bed and gave a brief smile. ‘I can only imagine you’re very confused.’

‘You’re a wizard,’ she said flatly. He raised one eyebrow, and she shook her head violently. ‘You’re a wizard, and you’ve got a magical library, and if you try to tell me that I’ve been . . . ill, or hallucinating, or anything like that, I swear I’m going to scream. That was not a fever-dream.’

‘I wouldn’t insult your intelligence with the suggestion.’ Geryon stroked his whiskers.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I just—I wasn’t sure if you would—’

‘It’s all right.’ Geryon settled back in the chair. ‘As for “wizard”, I have certainly been called such a thing. Also a sorcerer, a magus, a saint and a devil. Among ourselves, we tend to use the term “Reader” for those who have the gift. It is a little more . . . accurate.’

‘Ashes said something like that,’ Alice said. She paused. There were a thousand questions that leaped immediately to mind, but one shouldered the others aside. ‘Do you know what happened to my father?’

Geryon pursed his lips. ‘I’m afraid that is a long story, and not a pleasant one.’

‘Please. I have to know.’ Alice looked away from his face, almost afraid to ask. ‘Is he really dead?’

‘I . . . do not know.’ Something of Alice’s feelings must have shown on her face, because Geryon sighed and shook his head. ‘Oh, I don’t wish to give you false hope. He is dead, almost certainly. All I meant is that the manner of his death might not be that which was reported to the world.’

Alice’s throat was suddenly tight. ‘What really happened?’

‘To understand that, you must understand a little bit about Readers.’ He glanced at the mug on the nightstand. ‘You should drink that before it goes cold, by the way.’

‘Why?’ Alice eyed it suspiciously. ‘Is it a potion?’

Geryon chuckled and shook his head. Alice picked up the mug and took a sniff, then a cautious sip. It was cocoa, thick and sweet.

‘There aren’t many of us,’ Geryon went on. ‘Readers, I mean. The talent is a rare thing, and of those who have it, the vast majority go through their whole lives without ever realizing their potential. There are perhaps two dozen fully trained Readers in the entire world. Most of them, I’m sorry to say, prefer things this way, and to them any talented newcomer is either a prize to be possessed or a threat to be eliminated.’

‘You mean me, don’t you?’ Alice said.