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offered you up for selection.’
    Rook was confused. ‘It wasn’t?’ he said.
    ‘No, it was not,’ came a voice from behind him. Rook turned to see Alquix Venvax himself standing there. ‘Indeed, if it had been down to me alone, you wouldhave become my personal assistant—’
    ‘It was I who put your name forward for selection.’ The Professor of Darkness stepped forwards. He looked quite different in the formal ceremonial robes of his office, rather than the usual harness and jerkin of a sky-flyer. His dark, attentive eyes darted this way and that, seemingly missing nothing.
    ‘You?’ said Rook, surprised – and blushed at how insolent he must have sounded. ‘I mean … thank you, sir,’ he added.
    The Professor of Darkness nodded. ‘I’ve had my eye on you for some while now, Rook,’ he said. ‘Your perseverance and rigour have impressed me greatly – even though your willingness to bend the rules can, at times, be a little alarming.’
    Rook’s eyes widened. The professor clearly knew all about his reading the treatises.
    ‘Remember, Rook. While such behaviour was understandable in an under-librarian, it is completely unacceptable in a librarian knight elect. I shall continue to keep an eye on you.’ His eyebrows came together sternly. ‘Do not disappoint me, Rook.’
    ‘I won’t,’ Rook assured him.
    The professor nodded approvingly. ‘You have a long and difficult journey ahead of you. The treatise you will produce is precious, for it is only by librarian-academics constantly adding to our knowledge of the Edge that we will keep the dark ignorance of the Guardians of Night at bay – and in due course, Earth and Sky willing, discover the cure to stone-sickness. If you are to returnsafely and successfully, Rook, you must travel in secret and trust no-one. A single careless word, and you could all perish!’
    Just then a dozen tilderhorns trumpeted loudly, announcing that it was time for the three young hopefuls to take the Scholarship Oath. Rook took his place between the others.
    The High Librarian raised his head. ‘Do you, Stob Lummus, Magda Burlix and Rook Barkwater, swear to serve Edge Scholarship, both Earth and Sky, for the good of all?’
    Three voices rang out in response. With his eyes fixed on the High Librarian’s face, however, Rook was aware of no-one but himself. He heard the words come out of his mouth – words he’d always longed to say, but never dared to imagine that he ever would.
    ‘With my heart and my head, I do.’

    The Most High Guardian of Night, Orbix Xaxis, was standing on one of the uppermost gantries of the Tower of Night. A tall, imposing figure, he was wearing the heavy black robes of public office – and the dark glasses and metal mask of his own private fears. The glasses, he hoped, would repel any who would try to curse him with the evil eye, while the mask – which had a filter of phraxdust behind the muzzle – purified the germ-laden air he breathed.
    From below him there came the clanking and clunking of the mounted swivel telescopes turning this way and that as the Guardians scanned the early morning sky for any sign of illicit skycraft in flight. Sky flight, both in Sanctaphrax and Undertown, was strictly forbidden.
    Xaxis stared out into open sky. The high winds and driving rain which had been forecast only the day before had, once again, failed to materialize. ‘Surely a storm must come soon,’ he muttered to himself. He looked up at Midnight’s Spike, the tall, elegant lightning conductor which pointed up to the sky from the top of the tower, and shook his head. ‘Fifty years, and nothing. But soon. Soon a storm is bound to come,’ he hissed, ‘and when it does, the great Sanctaphrax rock will be healed, cured, restored …’ His eyes glinted unpleasantly behind the dark glasses. ‘And when that happens—’
    Just then there was a knock at the door. Xaxis turned and, with a flourish of his cape, stepped back through the open window and