Page 184 of The Mirror of Beasts

“I sent Bran to collect him and anything else salvageable,” the Bonecutter said. “I had the thought I might fix him.”

She had. Outwardly, at least. The damage to his chest had been mended, a new plate welded into place. A tube fed liquid silver death magic into the joint between Librarian’s left arm and his chest.

“What is this going to cost?” I asked. I could only imagine.

The Bonecutter switched to her crimson lenses. “Nothing you could pay. And I must warn you, even if I succeed, he will not be the same as he was. He will not have his memories.”

I jerked back from the table, turning to Neve. “Do you have my bag?”

She jumped into action, digging through her fanny pack until she eased my much larger satchel out of it. I caught it when she tossed it over.

Unwrapping the loose bandage I’d placed around it for its protection, I held the small bottle of quicksilver liquid I’d collected from Librarian out to her.

The Bonecutter had to fight to not look pleased as she took it from me. “I suppose that might work.”

“Is there something inside?” Olwen asked, cocking her head.

The Bonecutter pulled off her glasses, handing them to her. Olwen jolted as she looked at the bottle through them, then back at me. “Tamsin … is this molten silver what you saw in the cauldron in Avalon?”

I nodded, my throat constricting. “Lucky me.”

Neve had a look, then Caitriona, but when Olwen took the glasses back, she didn’t immediately relinquish them to the Bonecutter. “Can I observe?”

“I suppose you should,” the Bonecutter said, pouring the contents of the bottle into a small cauldron on the table. “If you wish to become my apprentice, you’ll need to learn.”

My mouth formed a ring of surprise. Even Neve looked at a loss for words.

“Really?” Olwen asked, lowering the glasses. “You’d be willing to teach me?”

“Well, don’t flatter yourself by thinking it’s because you’re special,” the Bonecutter said gruffly. “I’ve need of someone who can tend to the pub when Bran and I travel to source materials. And seeing as you possess some intelligence, you may yet grasp the finer arts of the trade.”

“Yes,” Olwen said. “Absolutely.”

“Wait,” Caitriona said, shocked. “But that would mean …”

My heart throbbed with the unspoken. You would leave us.

Suddenly, I knew who the upstairs flat was for.

Olwen balanced her empty cup on the rim of the bathtub and clasped her sister’s hand, stroking the back of it. “Dear heart, you’ve always known I’ve never had the same appetite for adventure as you. What I desire most of all is to be able to learn, to be of use to those who need it. I need to find a place for myself in this world, as do you.”

Caitriona looked troubled. “If … if that’s what you want.”

“All the more reason to drop in for visits,” Neve told her.

“Please, no,” the Bonecutter said, stirring the contents of the cauldron with seven clockwise strokes, then seven counterclockwise. “Besides, you’ll be quite busy with your adventuring.”

“What do you mean?” Neve asked.

The Bonecutter nodded toward a small cream envelope resting haphazardly on the top of one of the chairs piled high with scrolls. “A pooka flew in yesterday and dropped that off for you. I assume you know the one.”

“Griflet?” I asked. “Seriously?”

“Smelled the same to me,” the Bonecutter said, her small fingers adding flakes of something crimson to the cauldron. “Though I’ll leave it to you to confirm that suspicion. And when you do, please inform it I am not a post office.”

Neve picked the envelope up gently, holding it as if she believed it might turn to dust in her hands.

“Open it,” I told her.

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