be a whole series of upheavals in the Hall now, with people dragging suitcases and crates up and down the hallways as everyone moved up one. So I just nodded, and followed William up the stairs, all the way to the top floor. A room on the highest floor of the Hall was a mark of the exalted status the family afforded Jack, and not just as Armourer. He’d served the family in so many ways, for so many years. It’s all about seniority and respect.
Jack’s room turned out to be cosy and comfortable, with a large window and a really nice view out across the grounds. I knew people in the Hall who would kill for a window, with or without a really nice view. I stopped just inside the door and looked the room over. Decent-sized if characterless furniture, white walls, and a grey carpet. It all seemed very . . . tidy. As though Jack had hardly made an impression on the space.
William wandered around, looking at things, picking them up and putting them down again. After a while he realised I hadn’t moved from the door, and he stopped to look back at me.
“He wasn’t ever here much, you know. Spent all the hours he could down in the Armoury. Even kept a cot there, for emergencies. He did love his work . . . It was different, I think, back when he had Clara. Do you remember his wife, Clara?”
“Not really,” I said. “Did you know her, William?”
“I think so,” he said. “My memories still tend to come and go, but . . . yes, I’m pretty sure I knew her. A pleasant enough sort. You know, he should have had this carpet cleaned. Look at the state of it . . .”
“I haven’t been here in years,” I said. “Not since I was a kid. But nothing seems to have changed much. Why are we doing this, William? Why does it have to be us? Shouldn’t something like this be down to the Matriarch, or the Serjeant?”
“We get to do the honours,” said William, “because we were his friends. We knew him best.”
“You were his friend?” I said. “I never knew that.”
“Jack . . . liked to compartmentalise his life,” said the Librarian. “Kept things, and people, separate. Easier to keep secrets that way.”
“Secrets?” I said. “What kind of secrets?”
But William was already off again, bumbling around the room with vague eyes, as though expecting to see something he couldn’t quite remember.
I moved slowly forward, to look at the Armourer’s bed. It was still unmade, the blankets thrown back from where he’d got out of it just that morning. There was even a dent in the pillow, from where his head had rested. It seemed wrong to me that so many things could just go on when my uncle Jack didn’t. The world should have stopped, at least for a while, when he died. It was as though the world didn’t care. Didn’t realise what a marvellous thing it had lost.
“Your uncle Jack left you something,” William said suddenly.
“Yes, I know,” I said. “The Bentley.”
“No,” said the Librarian. “I meant this . . .”
I looked around. William was holding out an object to me, wrapped in rough cloth. The kind of rag Uncle Jack always kept handy to mop up spills. I took the object from the Librarian and carefully unwrapped it. And of course, it was the Merlin Glass. The silver-backed hand mirror looked innocently back at me. I studied the Glass for a long moment, and then looked at William. He shrugged quickly.
“Jack had it delivered to me, in the Library. Don’t ask me how; it was just . . . suddenly there. With a note saying I should get the Glass to you if anything should happen to him. I don’t think it was any kind of presentiment; he was just being cautious. Which is always a good idea, with something as powerful as the Merlin Glass. Can’t risk it falling into the wrong hands, hmm? According to the note, he hadn’t had time to do any work on the Glass . . . Presumably you know what that means.”
I nodded and put the Glass away in my pocket dimension. And then I carefully folded the piece of cloth and tucked that away too. Because it was the last thing Uncle Jack ever gave me. Of course, he would never have approved of such a gesture. He was never sentimental. I