Crelt's public library is about five minutes' walk from the office. The streets are quiet: it's cold and it's the middle of a workday, so most people are indoors where they belong. I used to know these streets but now they seem foreign, unfamiliar.

It's because the architecture is so different from that of Ryk, I decide. There most of the streets are narrow, tightly packed, twisting; but here there are wider roads, the buildings at most two or three stories high instead of the five or six that's not unusual in the capital. Crelt is a newer city, and space is less precious here.

I reach the library without incident. And it's a place where I don't have to fear hyperspace or receptionists questioning whether I have the right to enter. I can wander the stacks and shelves as I please, and stay as long as I like. I can't help smiling at the thought. Maybe I could get lost here, and…

No. I do still have a purpose here. I came for a reason more than just burying myself in the history section. I have a mysterious creature to track down. Spirit-forests are the obvious place to start, as I know only a little about them and it's probable the creature is related to whatever a destroyed spirit-forest becomes. But finding the books on them is less straightforward: do they belong to a section on geography, or magic, or history, or legend?

A few minutes' searching reveals that there isn't a consistent way of doing it; the categorisation depends very much on the content of the particular book. I find one history book telling the story of how spirit-forests have shaped and been shaped by history in unexpected ways (something I'd be interested in reading regardless, and I have to struggle to not start reading it there and then); two geographical accounts; a case study in the magic section looking at how the spirit-forests choose who is worthy of being granted their magic; and two accounts of myths surrounding spirit-forests, one of which specifically mentions the supposedly-haunted one in which I met the monster in its introduction.

I take the stack I've acquired to the nearest unoccupied table and settle down to search for information. Most of the books start by recapping the commonly-known basics: spirit-forests are believed to have some degree of sentience as a single organism. They bestow the magic of Latira on those they choose to favour, but those they take a dislike to seldom leave the forests alive, and stars help anyone who dares try to chop down a tree in a spirit-forest.

More details are hard to find. The only people who truly understand the forests are the Latira they choose, and it's noted in more than one place that they're without exception unwilling to discuss it. Some sources speculate that magician and forest make a bargain as part of the process, and that the magician's secrecy is a condition.

Instead I'm left with accounts of those who ventured into the forests without their blessing. They talk of tree branches moving treacherously of their own accord, paths appearing and vanishing and trees moving so that it's near-impossible to navigate within, eagles and packs of wolves which prey on the vulnerable humans (there's no reliable answer to whether the animals are actually part of the forest, have an accord with it or just survive within it).

It sounds terrifying, but it's not the same sort of terror as what I experienced. There are no records of strange shadow-creatures who gave the impression of being human.

More useful, I think, are the accounts of destruction of the forests. Foolish and cruel though it might seem, people were willing to face their wrath for the promise of the natural resources they held and the faster trade routes from roads built through them. Though somehow I doubt that those making the decisions were the ones on the front line of the war between humans and forests.

Because it was war, no doubt about it. The forests seemed to sense hostile forces and would do everything in their power to destroy before they were destroyed. And there were humans who fought to protect the forests, too. Their Latira were by far the greatest threat; their magic was stronger within the forest that granted their power, and they could coordinate with the forest itself.

The only method that was at all effective was fire, sparked and fuelled by magic until it became an unstoppable blaze that burnt the entire forest to a crisp. There are records of five to seven spirit-forests that were destroyed in this way, and three still known to exist in remote corners of the continent.

The forest we passed through is one of the ambiguous cases: two of the books list it as a destroyed spirit-forest, two more don't mention it at all, and one claims it was never more than an ordinary forest. I'm most interested, though, in the account that claims it was partially destroyed: that a path was burnt through the centre where the road now passes, while the two halves on either side were left untouched.

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That seems to me like the sort of thing that would create monsters. I page through that particular book, one of those that focuses on the mythical, in more detail. It suggests that the consciousness of the spirit-forest might have been fractured into a thousand tiny pieces, each with a scrap of magic and a vengeful instinct. That certainly explains the disappearance of a vanquished army, but the monster I encountered didn't seem like a tiny piece of spirit-forest: why was it able to take on the forms of a human girl or a shadow-creature, if it was?

The idea does raise another possibility, though: if I was interacting with a fragment of forest, was that in some way related to how Latira is granted? Did I earn its respect or blessing somehow? I think I'd know if I were Latira, but it makes sense that a tiny piece of the forest wouldn't be able to grant magic fully. I wish I had Electra's device for measuring magical signatures, so I could see if anything has changed.

But I know that the forests are less likely to grant their powers to those who are already magicians. And… my instincts say that the anomaly has to relate to this somehow. Or maybe I just want that to be the case, because there are only so many strange revelations about my magic that I can deal with.

There's a passing reference to evil spirits. They're said to haunt battlefields and places of execution, but maybe the death of a spirit-forest leaves the same echoes that attract them. And some of those spirits are rumoured to lure the unwary to their doom by taking human form…

The thought that there's something in me that evil spirits could respect is terrifying.

I pause, unsettled. The feeling shakes me out of the trance of work I was in, and I discover that I've been sitting still for too long: my legs are protesting. I stand stiffly and pace around the table. It takes me two short laps to remember to check the time. Four and forty after noon, I'm grimly unsurprised to see. It could be worse. What time does the library close?

That's not important, though. I need to be back at the office before five if I want to walk back to the apartment with my dad. And I probably shouldn't worry him in the current circumstances. I wonder if I can take out some of these books. My Crelt library registration is still active as far as I know – I used to visit often during the school holidays – but for the next week or two it remains a child's account, and I can't quite remember what restrictions that places on my borrowing.

And even assuming I can borrow them, I'd then have to smuggle the books back to the apartment without my dad seeing them, or answer awkward questions about why this is my new research interest. It's probably not worthwhile with the time I have left. I can always come back another day.

"Tallulah."

The voice is a boy's, unfamiliar. I could have sworn I was alone. I spin around, my gaze searching the gaps between bookshelves, until I see him. He's tall and skinny, with skin a few shades darker than mine and an intense dark stare.

I realise my hands are already moving into the position to cast a shield-spell and my heart has skipped a beat. But his posture is open and unthreatening. His hands hold only a scroll of paper. He lowers his head in a gesture that's not quite a bow, and then raises it again to meet my gaze.

"What do you want?" I ask, keeping my voice as neutral as I can.

"I was sent to deliver this to you." He holds the scroll out to me.

I consider for a moment. If this is a trap, there would have been far more effective ways to go about it. Tentatively, I reach out and take the scroll; nothing happens. The parchment is thick, but there isn't as much of it as I expected.

"Don't let anyone see this. And destroy it when you are finished," he says. Then he inclines his head again, turns, and walks away without another word.

There are only so many people who would want to pass me secret documents. This doesn't seem Electra's style, and I don't think any Blackthorn would do something like that without some form of verification protocol. Combined with the colour of the boy's skin, and something I can't quite define in his manner… it seems Amara and her people have found a way to reach me.

I'm not sure how many more complications I can take.

I could just destroy the paper without reading it at all, forget that I ever received it. Maybe that would make things simpler, but I already know I won't do it. I curse my own curiosity as I tuck it into my bag.

I pack up the rest of my things methodically, as if having my notes in just the right section of my bag will make things any easier. Then I return the books to just the right positions on their shelves, one section at a time, making a mental note of where I found them.

It's four and fifty-two by the time that's done, if the library's clock is reliable. Just enough time. I'm surprised to find when I step outside that it's dark, though I shouldn't be. It is winter, after all. The skies are clear enough that I can see the stars. I trace the shapes of the constellations with my eyes, taking comfort in the familiar patterns.

Then I hurry back. The streets are quiet and poorly lit, so I'm a little scared of what could be lurking in the shadows, but not so much so that I want to declare myself a magician by casting a light-spell. Fortunately it's not far, so I make it back without incident.

The reception room of Roberts and Bryant is deserted except for a bored-looking Jamie, who doesn't look as if his mood is much improved by my appearance: he looks up as he sees me enter and openly scowls.

It's not worth picking a fight with him, I tell myself firmly. I have far more important things to worry about. Just smile and be polite. "Is my dad back yet?"

"Mr Roberts has not returned from the hearing."

I grimace. That leaves me stuck waiting here until he does return. It doesn't feel right to go into my dad's office when he's not there, or to disturb Simon or Tara (I've probably caused enough disruption to their work already today). "Then I'll wait here for him." I pray he doesn't make that into a problem.

He doesn't. He doesn't even acknowledge me. And we wait in painfully awkward silence.

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