‘Have you been in the library lately, Mr Black?’ Alice said, doing her best to sound innocent. ‘I could have sworn I heard your voice the other day.’

Mr Black fixed his gaze on her, bushy black eyebrows rising.

‘Maybe I have and maybe I haven’t. I go where I please on the master’s business, and it’s no concern of yours.’ He leaned closer, voice dropping to a low growl. ‘If I were you, I wouldn’t go poking your nose where it doesn’t belong. Just because you’re a Reader doesn’t mean you’ve got the run of the place. And you ought not to hang around with cats. You might get fleas.’

Without waiting for a response, he straightened up and brushed past her, his bulk forcing Alice and Ashes to squeeze to one side of the stairway. Alice stared after him until he’d gone out of sight, then looked down at Ashes.

‘What an awful man,’ she said. ‘He doesn’t seem to like you.’

‘He doesn’t like anyone he can’t order around,’ Ashes said. ‘And I only take orders from Mother, not from the likes of him. But I think it’s mostly you he’s angry with.’

‘Me? Why?’

‘You’re Geryon’s new apprentice,’ Ashes explained. ‘That puts you above him, or will eventually. What did you mean about hearing him in the library?’

Alice frowned. Ashes had vanished just before she’d started eavesdropping on Mr Black, and apparently he hadn’t overheard the conversation . . .

‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘Just . . . trying to needle him.’

‘You ought to watch yourself around him,’ Ashes said. ‘He’s dangerous.’

‘I’m not afraid of Mr Black,’ Alice said, though she was, a little. ‘Come on. Let’s get something to eat.’

After breakfast, Alice and Ashes walked over to the library. This time the door opened easily when she pulled on the ring, and she lit one of the hurricane lamps and went inside. The neat rows of bookshelves by the entrance bore little resemblance to the weird geometries she’d seen that night, and she ran one finger along the scab on her cheek to remind herself that she hadn’t made any of it up.

Mr Wurms was right at the long table where she’d last seen him, surrounded by piles of books. He looked up as she approached, and favoured her with a brief smile, showing a mouthful of rotten teeth.

‘Ms Creighton,’ he said, with his soft, buzzing accent. ‘How nice to see that you’ve recovered from your . . . adventure.’

Alice nodded. ‘Ashes tells me I’m to work with you.’

‘Indeed. You will assist me, and begin picking up some of the . . . ah . . . tricks of the trade, as it were. If you have any questions, feel free to ask.’

‘Thank you.’ She hesitated, then said, ‘Are you a Reader, then? Like Geryon?’