I put the glass on the door and held my breath.

That sound. That continuous, liquid sound. Not a stream of water or the drip of a broken faucet, but somewhere in between. “It rains in cloudless nights”, she had said in her sleep, and indeed, that’s what it sounded like, the same sound that echoed distantly in her room at all times.

I looked around nervously, knowing it was fear that had made me do so, rather than caution. Matilda was in town, shopping. Jenkins was too busy fixing the mess I’d made in the library. And, most importantly, the Glassmaster was away.

My hand was trembling as it held the key. It felt warm, and it would be familiar and inviting but for an alarming thought that metal should feel cold. I held it tightly and brought it near the lock. “It rains” I heard her voice again, in my mind, her pale face appearing before me, smiling in her endless sleep. The only time she smiled.

I turned the key and pushed the door and my heart sank in the sound of rain, standing motionless in a pale gloom of silver-blue, among rows of shelves of countless water hourglasses.