14 
There were huntsmen on the wall. Ottilie could see their silhouettes in the flickering torchlight high above. She hastily tucked away her glow sticks, and they tripped, bumped and stumbled all the way to the inner edge of the boundary wall.
Besides their encounter with Hero, none of the shepherds bothered them. A couple prowled past, monitoring the inner perimeter: just heavy shadows, crunching twigs in the night.
A stairway zigzagged up the face of the wall. Feeling her way up, Ottilie kept one shoulder pressed to the rough stone, avoiding the exposed edge. Finally, they reached the base of the tower and gathered close, hunching in a slice of shadow.
‘Where’s the window?’ breathed Skip.
They had discussed this beforehand. Alba said that Whistler’s door seemed to be locked, with no visible lock to pick. She assumed it was some bone singer trick. But there was a window above that she always left ajar.
Alba’s eyes were anxious, but her mouth was set with determination. ‘The other side,’ she said, patting the rough stone of the cylindrical tower.
‘But there are huntsmen patrolling on the other side,’ said Skip.
Ottilie knew that stretch. It was the gap between the east gate and the Bone Tower, where she and Leo had been rescued by the owl.
‘They’ll stay down the other end, by the gate,’ said Ottilie. ‘As long as there isn’t too much light, we should be fine.’
Her words seemed to reassure the others; she only wished her own nerves would settle as they crept around the edge to the lockless door. It was narrow and painted pale blue. Ottilie pressed her fingers against it and quickly withdrew them. It was like ice.
‘Cold?’ said Alba.
‘What do you mean?’ said Skip, stroking the door. ‘Argh, it’s like being burned, except –’
‘The opposite,’ said Ottilie.
Alba nodded. ‘It’s always like that.’
The window was small, too small for anyone bigger than Skip, who was the tallest of the three. It was a fair way above the door, just low enough for Alba to pull herself in when she stood on Skip’s shoulders. Ottilie kept her eyes fixed anxiously on the silhouettes of the huntsmen, while holding her hand as high as she could, helping Alba balance.
Alba disappeared inside with a loud thump. Skip followed after with a little more grace, leaving Ottilie to climb up herself. It was no worse than the wall in the Wikric tunnels that Bill had helped her scale, but it took her a while to riddle it out. She was so lost in the task that she didn’t sense anyone approaching.
‘What are you doing?’
Ottilie lurched in shock, and nearly fell. She was caught so off-guard, she hadn’t even recognised the voice. Turning her head slowly, she breathed a huge sigh of relief. It was Gully.
‘Gully? What are y–’
‘Wall watch,’ he said, gesturing to a far-off figure by the east gate. ‘We saw movement and Ned sent me to see what’s going on. What is going on?’
Ottilie’s eyes flicked over to Ned. ‘We’re breaking in to the Bone Tower,’ she whispered.
Gully’s eyes lit up. ‘Why?’ He didn’t bother to lower his voice.
‘To steal books.’
‘Can I come?’ he asked eagerly.
‘No, Gully, you’re on wall watch,’ she said, grinning. ‘Do you think you could lie to Ned?’ Her smile faded quickly. ‘Tell him we’re a bunch of bone singers or something?’
Gully frowned. He had never liked lying, and had never been any good at it. It was too late anyway. Ned was coming over. Ottilie’s pulse quickened. She’d just been caught breaking into a restricted building, but still, this hummingbird beat did seem fairly common around Ned.
‘What are you doing?’ His voice was reproachful, but there was an amused glint in his eyes.
Ottilie let herself drop to the ground and shook out her arms. ‘Does it matter?’ She wriggled her fingers, trying to get a bit of life back into her cramping joints.
Ned smiled. He didn’t seem to be able to help it. His face was shaped for laughter. ‘Yes.’
She weighed her options. She trusted Ned, but he’d been a huntsman for nearly three years and he was an elite. He hadn’t told anyone she was a girl – that was something – and he’d been discreet about the petition. Ned wasn’t like Leo. If he thought her reasons were good enough, he might not report her.
‘We’re borrowing books,’ said Ottilie.
He raised an eyebrow. ‘We?’
‘Me, Alba Kit and Isla Skipper.’
Alba and Skip both stuck their heads out the window, looking sheepish.
‘Why?’ said Ned, supressing a smile.
‘Because things are getting worse here, and there are too many secrets in this place,’ she said, very quickly. ‘I think the rule of innocence is a lie, and someone let that wyler inside, and we think some answers might be in Whistler’s collection of books.’
Shadows gathered behind his eyes. ‘You think the rule of innocence is a lie?’ The tone of his voice suggested he might have considered it himself.
‘Yes,’ said Ottilie, ‘but I don’t have time to explain.’
His eyes searched hers. Finally, he seemed to make a decision. ‘We’ll give you a leg-up. But the watch changes soon, so be quick.’
Gully and Ned locked their arms together and Ottilie used them like a step ladder, gripping the wall for support. Ned, who was far taller than Gully, helped push her higher until she was able to scramble through the window and join her friends.
She pulled the glow sticks from her pocket, washing the circular room in greenish light. By a triangular hearth there were benches and shelves with pots and jars full of all manner of strange plants and powders. The room smelled of rotting parchment and dried herbs, and a thick layer of dust rested on every surface.
Skip turned to Ottilie. ‘You think someone let that wyler inside?’
‘Don’t you?’ said Ottilie.
Skip considered it for a moment.
‘It could have been by accident,’ said Alba.
‘I think it was a witch,’ said Ottilie.
‘There are no witches anymore,’ said Skip with a snort.
Ottilie opened her mouth to argue, but Alba got in first. ‘That’s why we’re here – to find answers.’ Gesturing to the room, she added, ‘Come on, we don’t have much time.’
The walls were lined with books of varying thickness and states of decay. Ottilie guessed that at least as many books were piled up on the floor, some open, some closed, some just covers with all their pages ripped out. Here and there a scroll peeked up through a mound, and by a spiral staircase Ottilie saw a bolted chest with loose sheets sticking out.
‘I think we can take as many as we want,’ said Skip with a grin. ‘I don’t think she’ll notice they’re gone.’
Alba had already begun to go through them, running her fingers along spines and flicking hungrily through their pages. Ottilie settled on a mildewed rug to do the same.
It didn’t take long for Alba to gather a fairly extensive collection. Ottilie was having less luck. Many of the books didn’t have titles and the writing was small and difficult to read.
‘Look at this!’ said Skip. She was holding up a medium-sized book with a dark, greenish cover. Its pages looked like they had been soaked in the blackest tea.
‘What’s it called?’ said Ottilie, forgetting for a moment that Skip couldn’t read very well.
Skip ran her fingers over the cover. ‘There’s no words on the front. But it’s creepy – and so heavy! Feel it.’ She tossed it to Ottilie.
Skip was right. The book was smaller than many of the others but it seemed to weigh three times more than it should. She opened it to the middle and saw a drawing of what looked like a woman being shoved into a coffin by a host of bodiless arms. She snapped it shut and passed it to Alba.
Alba had a quick look through, her eyes growing wider by the second. ‘It’s about witches!’ she said, adding it to the pile of books she had collected.
Ottilie felt jittery with excitement. This might be just the book they needed!
There was a ghastly screech somewhere far off and the gentle night-bells tolled.
‘That’s the shift change,’ she said. ‘We have to go.’
Alba gathered the pile in her arms.
Ottilie turned for the door, but something froze her in place. In the darkened spiral stairway was the outline of a figure, sitting, watching them in silence, the whites of her eyes unnaturally bright in the dark.