She turned.

Behind her was a small dark alley.

It was squeezed between two houses, and its slanty strangeness made her take a few steps closer. Its walls were cobwebbed and its cobbles glittery. There was something not quite right about it, as if it led right out of the happy sunlit day. She was about to turn away, when she saw the nearest stall.

‘Oh!’ she said.

It was a little way down, against one wall. Its lop-sided trestles were piled with old junk, kettles and books, looking worn and tattered and wonderfully musty.

Seren hesitated, just for a moment. Then she hurried down into the dimness.

No one was there. A small lantern was propped on the top of a pile of china saucers, and a cup of ale, half-empty stood beside it.

‘Hello?’ she said softly.

Her voice rang round the stone walls and overhanging roofs. The Fair seemed very far away, its noises distant.

Next to the lantern was a sign. It read:

EVERYTHING ONE PENNY.

Seren was relieved, because that was all she had left.

The books were certainly old. They were piled in dusty heaps, some of them spotted with mildew. They were bound in leather and calfskin, with their titles in worn gold letters. A few had metal clasps and locks and, when she prised them open and looked inside, they were written in languages she didn’t recognise at all. One actually fell to pieces as she turned its pages; she glimpsed unicorns and manatees and impossible beasts but the pictures crumbled to dust even as she tried not to breathe on them. They were unreadable.

Disappointed, she pushed them aside and from the bottom of the pile, she pulled out something else.

It was a small casket, made of a dark metal.

Thousands of tiny stars glinted on its sides.

Beautifully painted on the lid, the face of a swan was staring out at her. Seren gasped. The Swan’s gaze was so direct she almost thought it was alive, especially as the eyes were inlaid with some shiny silver foil.

It was a black swan, and it wore a diamond collar. All around the painting were some words. She had to turn the box to read them.

The Box of the Midnight Swan

If you can open My closed lid

Your heart’s desire Inside is hid

Seren’s eyes went wide. This might be just what the Crow was looking for! After all, his heart’s desire was to be magicked back to human form. Could it really only cost one penny? It seemed too good to be true.

She tried to open it, but the lid wouldn’t budge. She tugged and peered, to see if it was glued or stuck together, but no, there wasn’t anything wrong with it, and no keyhole either. There must be some trick to it, or…

Something hissed.

Seren turned, quickly.

On the corner of the nearest house a gargoyle was carved. It was an ugly goblin face, with its tongue out, eyes wide-open, ears like bat-wings. Below it another peered round a pillar, goat-eyed and angry. Seren backed away.