that,” Skulduggery said again, and the lady laughed and shrugged and looked back at Stephanie.
“Sorry about that,” she said, and Stephanie felt a fog lift from her mind. She felt dizzy and staggered, but Skulduggery was there, a hand on the small of her back, supporting her.
“My apologies,” the lady said, giving her a small bow. “I do forget the effect I have on people. First impressions and all that.”
“Seems like every time you meet someone new, you forget that little fact,” Skulduggery said.
“I’m a scatterbrain, what can I say?”
Skulduggery grunted and turned to Stephanie. “Don’t feel self-conscious. The first time anyone sets eyes on China, they fall in love. Believe me, the effect lessens the more you get to know her.”
“Lessens,” the woman named China said, “but never entirely goes away, does it, Skulduggery?”
The detective took off his hat and looked at China, but ignored her question. China smiled at Stephanie and handed her a business card. It was eggshell white and bore a single telephone number, etched with delicate elegance.
“Feel free to call me if you ever stumble across a book or an item you think I might be interested in. Skulduggery used to. He doesn’t any more. Too much water has flowed under that proverbial bridge, I’m afraid. Oh, where are my manners? My name is China Sorrows, my dear. And you are…?”
Stephanie was about to tell China her name when Skulduggery turned his head to her sharply, and she remembered what he had said. She frowned. The urge to tell this woman everything was almost overwhelming.
“You don’t need to know her name,” Skulduggery said. “All you need to know is that she witnessed someone breaking into Gordon Edgley’s house. He was looking for something. What would Gordon have that someone might want?”
“You don’t know who he was?”
“He wasn’t anyone. His master, that’s who I’m after.”
“So who do you think his master is?”
Skulduggery didn’t answer and China laughed. “Serpine again? My darling, you think Serpine is the culprit behind practically every crime.”
“That’s because he is.”
“So why come to me?”
“You hear things.”
“Do I?”
“People talk to you.”
“I am very approachable.”
“I was wondering if you’d heard anything: rumours, whispers, anything.”
“Nothing that would help you.”
“But you have heard something?”
“I’ve heard nonsense. I’ve heard something that doesn’t even deserve to be called a rumour. Apparently Serpine has been making inquiries about the Sceptre of the Ancients.”
“What about it?”
“He’s looking for it.”
“What do you mean? The Sceptre’s a fairy tale.”
“Like I said, it’s nonsense.”
Skulduggery fell silent for a moment, as if he was storing that piece of information away for further study. When he spoke again, it was with a new line of questioning. “So what would Gordon have that he – or anyone else – might want?”
“Probably quite a lot,” China answered. “Dear Gordon was like me: he was a collector. But I don’t think that’s the question you should be asking.”
Skulduggery thought for a moment. “Ah.”
Stephanie looked at the two of them. “What? What?”
“The question,” Skulduggery said, “is not what did Gordon have that someone might want to steal, but rather what did Gordon have that someone had to wait until he was dead in order to steal it?”
Stephanie looked at him. “There’s a difference?”
China answered her. “There are items that cannot be taken, possessions that cannot be stolen. In such a case, the owner must be dead before anyone else can take advantage of its powers.”
“If you hear anything that might be of use,” Skulduggery said, “will you let me know?”
“And what do I get in return?” China responded, that smile playing on her lips again.
“My appreciation?”
“Tempting. That is tempting.”
“Then how about this?” Skulduggery said. “Do it as a favour, for a friend.”
“A friend?” China said. “After all these years, after everything that’s happened, are you saying that you’re my friend again?”
“I was talking about Gordon.”
China laughed and Stephanie followed Skulduggery as he walked back through the stacks. They left the library and travelled back the way they’d come.
When they were out on the street, Stephanie spoke up at last.
“So that was China Sorrows,” she said.
“Yes, that was,” Skulduggery responded. “A woman not to be trusted.”
“Beautiful name, though.”
“Like I said, names are power. There are three names for everyone. The name you’re born with, the name you’re given and the name you take. Everyone, no matter who they are, is born with a name. You were born with a name. Do you know what it is?”
“Is this a trick question?”
“Do you know what your name is?”
“Yes. Stephanie Edgley.”
“No.”
“No?”
“That’s your given name. That’s the name other people handed you. If a mage with any kind of knowledge wanted to, he could use that name to influence you, to attain some small degree of control – to make you stand, sit, speak, things like that.”
“Like a dog.”
“I suppose so.”
“You’re likening me to a dog?”
“No,” he said, and then paused. “Well, yes.”
“Oh,
