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Silence fell heavy in the room. Everyone seemed stu
None of them had seen it coming.
There were nine of them left, Jess realised. Nine who hadn’t joined the rebellion.
However improbably, he’d survived another round.
EPHEMERA
An excerpt from a work entitledOn Press-Printing: A New Begi
… foundation built in those early days, when the Library was at its most vulnerable, was flawed by one thing: the relative scarcity of the Obscurists themselves. It is a skill which can be taught only to a point, and then there must be a real spark of talent with which to bring the alchemical theories into active life.
Fewer of these rare, bright talents are born now than ever before, and even within the Iron Tower itself, there is a growing knowledge that so few Obscurists ca
Without the Obscurists, the Library falls … unless another method of purely mechanical duplication of knowledge is put in place.
I propose the immediate and widespread use of a device I call a press-printer, which uses a system of movable letters that may be arranged into any grouping to form words, lines and pages of text. Once inked, these letters are then pressed by means of a mechanical arm upon an individual sheet, which may then be bound up into books.
By this means, we can distribute the knowledge of the Library in reproduced form, endlessly, in a way that removes the burden from the fragile shoulders of the Obscurists.
I have included full schematics of this press-printer and a sample page produced from the prototype device. I look forward to demonstrating this device to you at your convenience.
An a
The pernicious heresy that began with Gutenberg once again appears among us, as if some great and sinister force insists on destroying the greatest institution of learning mankind has ever known. That it should spring from the mind of one of our most valuable and well-regarded Scholars, one so closely co
As with Gutenberg and all others who have followed, we must destroy this heresy immediately and completely. We have no choice.
A following a
The work that Scholar Wolfe has done must be destroyed, there is no question of it, but I ca
He should be taken to a place of questioning and there made to see the error of his beliefs. Once he has been so instructed, he may then be useful to the Library again, but only under the close and constant watch of the Artifex Magnus.
He must, of course, be made to understand that this extraordinary mercy will not come again, and he lives on the sufferance of the Archivist and Curators.
I leave this in your hands, Artifex.
CHAPTER FIVE
Ptolemy House went from claustrophobic to uncomfortably empty, with only the nine of them left to rattle around inside. That included a few Jess wished had dropped by the wayside, like Santiago and Portero and Glain … but the addition of Morgan to their ranks made up for it. Jess enjoyed her company. More than he should, he knew. With nine of them left, three would have to leave by the end, and they would all be fighting for the six spots left.
On the morning of the third day after the false lottery, Jess was up before the bells, but he found Khalila there ahead of him, already sipping coffee and reading a blank. She was always reading now. It was probably why she would survive them all in the cut-throat world of the Library.
‘What is it?’ Jess asked, as he poured his cup. She shrugged. ‘Khalila, you’re never early. You sleep until the last moment, and arrive exactly on time. You’re precise about it.’
She shut the book. ‘I wanted to talk to you in private, and you get up early.’
‘Talk about what?’
She gave him a significant look.
‘If you’re waiting for me to guess, I haven’t got a clue,’ Jess said, and handed her a piece of pastry he knew she particularly liked. It had raisins. He loathed them, but she bit into it with enthusiasm.
‘You should be more careful,’ she said.
He froze cold inside. She knows. She knows about my family.
But that was proven wrong when she continued, ‘I assume you already know better, but anyone can see that you’re paying far too much attention to the girl.’
‘Glain? Well, she’s very tall. She’s hard to ignore.’ Khalila only sighed in response to that, so Jess conceded the point. ‘You mean the new girl? Morgan? All right, I like Morgan. At least she isn’t Glain.’
‘Glain is all right. She’s just very direct.’
‘And what do you think of Morgan, then?’
Khalila considered him over the lip of her coffee cup. ‘She is a mystery, and mysteries are dangerous, especially here. You should remember that. This is not a time to be distracted.’
‘I like mysteries.’
‘You like challenge, Jess. And I assure you that she is well aware of it. She’s very clever. Too clever by half. Maybe you ca
‘So you don’t like her?’
‘Oh, I do, very much. I just don’t trust her, and neither should you. The rest of us, we’ve spent time together. Sweated together. Failed together. She …’ Khalila tapped a fingernail on the heavy pottery of her cup. ‘She is a blank, and until we see what’s on her pages, I would keep my distance.’
‘There are only nine of us left. Three of us are leaving anyway. Maybe I should be worrying more about the devils I know.’
Khalila conceded that with another shrug, and a rueful half-smile. She was different now, Jess thought. More mature. More comfortable in her skin, and with her own brilliance. Here, among people who respected her, she shone like a diamond.
He might have also been drawn to her, except that she had made it all too plain to everyone that she was not available. Only Dario pursued her, and she found it, Jess thought, flattering and exasperating, in turns. But he didn’t think she would ever return Dario’s affections. She was too aware of the same advice she was giving him. Three of us will leave.
She didn’t want to be one of them … or have to give up someone she loved. And she didn’t want distractions.
They ate without talking more about it. He enjoyed Khalila’s ability to say what she meant and move on. Efficient.
Portero was the next one in, yawning and surly; he grunted a greeting to them and loaded his plate up before taking a seat far away. Dario settled for coffee, and a spot with Portero. Glain avoided them all, still, and sat solitary, at least until Morgan arrived with Izumi, and both infringed on her space. Glain suffered it, though not happily.
Thomas was almost late, and as he reached out for a pastry, Izumi – back at the food, which was remarkable for such a slender girl – slapped his hand away. ‘Wash your hands before you touch anything, Thomas,’ she said. ‘You’re filthy.’