“That a Reader was involved is certain,” Geryon went on. “But beyond that, I can’t yet say. We are a jealous fraternity, and information is hard to come by. Still, I have . . . called in some favors, and set the wheels in motion.” He put on a sad smile. “We will know the truth in the end, I promise you.”

“Thank you.” Alice bowed her head. She wanted to question him, but she felt as though she’d pushed her luck already. “I’ll . . . go and help Mr. Wurms, then.”

He waved a hand in dismissal. “I’ll send for you if I have need.”

The wind went from pleasantly cool to vicious, and sheets of rain swept across the lawn between the house and the library like the ranks of a conquering army. The change in weather matched her mood, which had turned dark after she’d nerved herself up to question Geryon and been put off with vague promises. There has to be something he can do, something he knows. The more she learned about magic, the more certain she’d become that her father had to be alive, somehow, taken by one of the old Readers to who knew what hidden fortress. She needed to do something, but she didn’t know where to start.

There was an umbrella in her room, somewhere, but Alice couldn’t be bothered to go and search for it. I wonder if there’s a creature I could bind that could keep me dry? She checked the thought at once. That was old Reader thinking, the tendency to view the wondrous creatures that lived beyond the book-portals solely in terms of what power they could provide. For all that she was Geryon’s apprentice, she didn’t want to become that sort of person.

She made a dash for it, and the carved bronze door came open at her touch. She stepped into the warm, stuffy darkness of the anteroom and shook herself like a dog, spraying water against the stone.

The shelves were full of hurricane lamps, but she let them be. Now that she was a Reader, Alice didn’t need them. She wrapped the devilfish thread loosely around her, and her hand began to glow an eerie blue green. She concentrated until it brightened enough for her to see by. As usual, at least a dozen cats had come to greet her at the inner door, eyes glowing otherworldly colors in the strange light. Alice waved politely, in case any of them could talk. None of the cats had ever spoken to her except Ashes and Ending, but it didn’t pay to make assumptions.