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their first meeting in this very room. Closing the Book again, he laid his hand on the rough texture of its cover and said, “My name is Marcel.”
    Nothing happened at first, and he wondered whether the Book would teach him anything at all, but then it began to glow a comforting golden-red. With his hand still in place, Marcel spoke again. “I am an orphan.”
    Instantly the glow ceased and his hand was flung aside. The Book unfurled its pages, fanning rapidly and fluttering the flame of the meagre candle until it reached the second-last page. Here, it wrote his words.
    I am an orphan.
    Marcel’s smile almost split his face in two. “See how it works?” he said excitedly. “Truth and lies. I’m not an orphan. The Book knows it somehow, even though I don’t.”
    He didn’t bother with his hand this time but simply leanedover the open pages. “I want to know the true story of who I am.”
    The Book closed without delay and sent out its golden glow. They watched expectantly but it did nothing more. Marcel’s fingers worked unconsciously at the ring Lord Alwyn had forced him to wear, waiting for a further sign.
    “What’s wrong?” asked Bea after they had waited a full minute.
    “Who am I?” Marcel asked stiffly, but this time the yellowish tinge ceased and the book simply lay there, making no response at all.
    He thought back to what Old Belch had told him and slowly he began to understand. “It can’t tell me who I am. That’s not what it’s made to do. It might contain the most powerful magic in the world, but it can only do one thing: judge what is true and what is not.”
    He discovered that he was right when the Book glowed in response.
    “Why is it called the Book of Lies, then?”
    “You’ve seen the way it works, Bea. Every word written in this book is untrue. No wonder they call it the Book of Lies! And look at it, almost full.”
    Suddenly he realised what this meant, and his heart sank inside his chest. “It’s hopeless. This book doesn’t have my life on its pages. It can’t tell me who I am or where I come from. That would be the truth, and all of this is…” He flicked hishand disdainfully at the cover. “You risked your life to get it for me, but it’s nothing but lies.”
    Bea had stopped listening, to stare intently at the doorway leading into the hall. Then she murmured, “Someone’s coming.”
    “Hide the Book!” Marcel whispered urgently, passing it to her and shooing her into the pantry. The sound of slow footsteps grew louder. He expected to hear Albert or Mrs Timmins herself, but instead the silence was broken by a girl’s voice. “Who’s there?” she called curtly.
    “It’s Marcel,” he replied.
    The girl came closer until the candle’s pale light caught her face. It was Nicola. “What are you doing down here?” she asked suspiciously.
    “I couldn’t sleep,” he answered quickly, but to his horror he heard the pages of the Book of Lies flap and unfurl somewhere in the pantry behind him. Nicola had heard the sound too and glanced over his shoulder, looking for the cause.
    He distracted her by asking, “How did you know I was down here?”
    “I was awake and I heard someone trip going down the stairs. I waited for a while but they never came back up. I’m surprised that strange old man in the tower hasn’t come down to check as well. He’s going to make sure you stay here, that’s for sure,” she said, rather unkindly. “Not like me,” she addedwith a bitter chuckle as she walked to the back door and looked out into the night. “They can’t wait to get rid of me. Already tried once.”
    “I heard you were sent back.”
    “Sent back!” she snapped indignantly. She spun round to face him again, making no effort to keep her voice down. “I ran away. They treated me like a slave, those people. I had to do everything, cook and clean and wash all their filthy clothes. And the boys in the family! Stank like pigs, all three of them, and they wouldn’t