‘No, I’m human,’ Irene said slowly. ‘Which means you’re going to have to depend on my sense of honour instead.’ And on her urgent need to get Catherine into the Library, so as not to disrupt Library–Fae relations. But it wasn’t the moment for ulterior motives. ‘Are you really asking me to pledge my name and power in the Language to teach you, in return for your Fae oath to obey me? Do you actually want to bind us in an unbreakable bond, unto death – as that’s what it would mean?’ She leaned in closer. ‘Do you think that you’re actually going to be any happier or better off that way, Catherine?’

Catherine edged back in her seat a little, unease showing in her eyes. ‘I . . . perhaps that might have some disadvantages I hadn’t considered.’

‘I’ll do it if I must,’ Irene went on, holding the Fae’s gaze. ‘I honestly thought we could trust each other. I’ve tried to be fair and honourable. But if a binding oath is the only thing you’ll accept, then I’ll do it, and God help us both. So make your choice, Catherine. Are you prepared to bind yourself to obey me as my loyal student? Or can we simply trust each other to keep the deal we’ve made, and do our best to behave like rational adults?’

‘Perhaps I should consider apologizing instead?’ Catherine suggested in a tiny voice.

‘Perhaps you should. Just a moment.’ The cab had slowed to a crawl. Irene rolled down the window and leaned out to call to the driver on the roof. ‘Is something the matter?’

‘Traffic jam, ma’am,’ he said. ‘We may be a bit late getting to the zoo.’

While Irene didn’t think that Lord Guantes would tie up London’s traffic, just to catch her, staying in one location was dangerous. ‘We’ll walk from here,’ she said.

Two hours, three cabs and a fair amount of walking later, Irene finally sat down, feeling something approximating safety. The cheap rooms they were staying in were near Heathrow Aeroport, but within the zeppelin port’s workers’ district, rather than near the opulent hotels for incoming visitors. All her usual precautions were in place too, so she felt confident that Lord Guantes wouldn’t have found this hideout yet.

‘You said you wanted me to teach you,’ she said to Catherine, who was staring gloomily out of the window at the smoke-stained wall of the house opposite. ‘This is a very important lesson. Always maintain a few alternate hideouts in case things go wrong. I rent this place and a few others, using different bank accounts under different names, and I drop by once or twice a month to check that things are in order.’

‘All that for emergencies that might never happen?’

‘Things have gone wrong,’ Irene pointed out. ‘This is not an academic exercise. You wanted to be a Librarian. You wanted me to teach you. So pay attention, because we’re about to have a very thorough class on paranoia, why it’s a good idea, and how to be motivated by it.’

Catherine pulled off her bonnet angrily and threw it down on the battered dresser. ‘You’re not listening! At least I’ve got you to myself now and I don’t have to compete with Kai all the time. But I want to be a Librarian – a real one.’

Irene was about to say, What do you think I am? – but something made her pause. She had an unpleasant feeling that she and Catherine were operating on different wavelengths, and this had to be sorted out before matters became any more dangerous. ‘So explain to me,’ she said, keeping her voice mild as she sat down in the room’s only chair. ‘I’m listening now. Tell me what you mean.’

‘Irene, you’re a very nice person,’ Catherine said, obviously slathering on the honey before she got to the vinegar stage of the conversation. ‘I’ve nothing against you personally. I’m sure that you really believe in what you do.’

‘But?’ This didn’t sound promising. Though it did sound patronizing.

‘I don’t want to be a librarian spy! I don’t even want to be an archivist. I want to be a proper librarian. I want to be someone who shares books, who shares knowledge, who makes the library a better place!’ Catherine was transfigured. Her face was alight with eagerness, and her eyes were almost literally glowing with emotion. ‘I want to be the sort of librarian who curates books, who loves them and cares for them and shares them with other people. I want to welcome little children into the library and hand them books which will make their imaginations blossom. I want to find the books people have spent their lives looking for, to help them achieve the things they were always meant to do. I want . . .’ Catherine must have noticed Irene’s horrified expression. ‘You did ask,’ she said resentfully.

Screaming would not help. ‘How long have you felt this way?’ Irene asked, as gently as she could manage.

‘Years.’ Catherine sat down on the edge of the bed. The springs creaked under her weight. ‘I wasn’t lying, you know. When I said I wanted to be a librarian I was telling the truth. If I have to go on a few adventures with you first, I don’t mind doing that, as long as I end up where I want to be.’

‘But your uncle negotiated your apprenticeship so you’d end up being a Librarian like me,’ Irene said. That had been quite definite. ‘Collecting rare stories, helping keep the many worlds stable, that sort of thing.’ The sort of thing that was Irene’s work and life. ‘Not to become a glowing, romanticized librarian archetype.’

‘I’m not responsible for what Uncle said to you,’ Catherine said, hunching her shoulders again. ‘Besides, he knew what I wanted, he must have deliberately chosen to ignore it. And it’s not as if you have to do that much to help me. Just get me into the Library and I’ll take care of the rest. If I can do that to keep them happy, they won’t care what I do next. I want the books and I want to share them.’

How many other ‘little details’ had Lord Silver left out? Catherine’s current over-emotional, brattish behaviour suggested one possibility. Irene tapped her finger on the arm of the chair. ‘Catherine . . . your uncle assured me that you were “of age”, and that you were experienced and reliable. That I shouldn’t make any judgements based on your appearance. In retrospect, he was trying to make me think you were older than you look, wasn’t he? Just how old are you?’

‘Twenty-five,’ Catherine said brazenly.

Irene met her gaze.

‘. . . next year.’

Irene stayed silent.

‘Okay, I’m twenty-three.’

Irene raised her eyebrows.

‘Twenty-one?’ Catherine said hopefully.

‘Just tell me which side of eighteen you are,’ Irene said wearily.

‘I’m eighteen in five months’ time,’ Catherine muttered. ‘And there are lots of cultures which consider me to be fully adult and capable of making my own decisions about my future.’

Dear merciful heavens. I have a teenage Fae on my hands. One who feels she has a vocation to be an archetypal librarian. Irene wished that she believed in prayer. It would have been nice to have someone to ask for help. Unfortunately she had committed herself to taking on Catherine as her apprentice – and neither Lord Silver nor the older Librarians were about to let her off the hook in a hurry.