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Lautric’s eyebrows rose. “Josefa? But the Grand Archivists said…” He trailed off, frowning as he thought. “They said she was no longer a candidate. I suppose they did not say why.”

“She disappeared after the first assignment. She spent the night with me and was gone when I awoke. She left her key in my room.”

Now that she was sharing all of these things with Lautric, Fern felt as though she had just let go of a terrible weight she’d been carrying. She almost sighed from the relief of it.

And as if the weight had transferred from her to him, Lautric’s shoulders slumped. A haunted expression drew his features into a grimace of worry. “I thought she might have left because of Edmund and Emmeline.”

“Because she refused their alliance?”

“And because she accused Edmund of stealing her work. I understand why she believed they might have, but part of me fears she might have dealt them a blow without intending to.”

Fern hesitated, then asked, “Doyouthink they stole her work?”

“No.” Lautric’s answer was immediate and certain. “Edmund and Emmeline are talented and proud. If they ever sought to seek an unfair advantage, it would not be by stealing someone else’s work.”

“Do you think theywouldseek an unfair advantage?“ Fern asked.

This time, it was Lautric who hesitated.

“I’m not sure. I don’t think failure is an option for them, and Josefa was their only true rival in the first assignment. My mentor confirmed it: Josefa was the only one to achieve a score anywhere close to theirs.”

Fern had been about to ask him more about the twins, but her mouth almost dropped open in disbelief. “Your mentor told you the scores of the othercandidates?”

“Yes.” Lautric sighed, rubbed his face as though he hoped to wipe the tiredness away from his eyes. “I think Dr Auden hoped it would motivate me to do better for the next assignment.” He glanced at Fern. “It’s partly why I hoped to work with you, since Dr Auden—since you…” He stopped himself. “Ah, I’m sorry, I’m tired, I’m losing my thread of thought. Are you saying you think it was Josefa we heard tonight?”

“Who else?” said Fern, but now she was also losing the thread of her thought, picking up his, wishing he had finished his sentence. He hoped to work with her. Why? Because she cared about nothing else but her work? Because she could be manipulated into helping him the way she had helped Josefa? Because she was—what had he said in the Palissy Auditorium? Clever and hard-working, the perfect partner?

She did not press him for those answers. There were more important questions anyway, and Lautric was silent for so long that Fern slowly began ascending the stairs again. They’d just reached the landing of their corridor when he took her elbow, drawing closer to her to speak in a low, urgent voice.

“You’re right, she wouldn’t willingly leave, not when she worked so hard and did so well. The Grand Archivists were impressed by her, Dr Auden himself told me so. Why would she leave if that was the case?”

“On the night after the assignment, somebody interfered with her apartment door. A locking spell or some sort of ward, a spell to keep her out of her room.”

Lautric narrowed his eyes. “Who would do such a thing? The Ferrows?”

“Josefa thought it might just be some childish jest. She never told me who, though I’m sure she had her suspicions. It wouldn’t be the first time somebody tried to sabotage her.”

Lautric shook his head. “No, that’s not what I mean. Even if one wished to sabotage Josefa, they would not have been able to ward her door. Let me show you.”

They had almost reached the end of the corridor, their footsteps swallowed by the blue carpet. Lautric stopped in front of a door where a brass plate spelt outL. Lautricin elegant lettering. He turned towards Fern, pointing at the door handle.

“Here, try it,” he said. “Try warding it against me.”

Fern only knew common wards: wards to keep books from being opened, or to keep her purse safe when she was travelling in crowded, disreputable places. And normally, even the smallest of those wards used up enough energy to tire her out for an hour or two.

But the pool of energy inside her was deep enough that she could easily dip into the source. She murmured an incantation; nothing happened. Lautric was right: here, her warding incantation was nothing more than softly chanted words.

“See?” he said.

She widened her eyes, turning her head to look at Lautric. “How did you know this?”

“I tried to place a simple ward on my door when we first arrived. That’s how I found out.”

Fern sighed. “How is it possible, then? Something kept her out of her room. If not magic, then what?”

“I don’t know.” Lautric shook his head. “But I believe you, Fern—that something might have happenedto Josefa, and perhaps even that something might… That other candidates will… This place, you see, is…”

“This place is—what?”