And now it was all over. He'd go home in disgrace, if his father let him come home at all, and he would never see this place again, walk these streets again, feel this friendship again.
Morgan was holding her own tile in her palm, staring at it. The colour had faded again from her cheeks. Like Khalila, like Thomas and himself, she held one of the fatal numbers. At least she didn't have time to get used to all this, Jess thought, though the unfairness of it ached. At least she hasn't worked so hard and lost so much.
Some people were sobbing. Some were gasping in relief. The rebels were muttering, clearly unsure what their next move should be.
All except Hallem, who looked triumphant. 'You're finished, Wolfe. If you dismiss those of us who didn't draw, and those who hold the wrong numbers, you'll be down to only three students. So this lottery can't possibly count.' He looked elated now, and he was right. The maths of it was on his side.
Hallem had won. Wolfe couldn't possibly drop the class all the way down to three. The Archivist wouldn't allow it.
Wolfe said, 'Solidly reasoned, Mr Hallem. But I still expect all who refused to draw a tile to be at Misr Station within the hour. Leave your trunks. We will have them shipped home to you. I want you gone.'
'You can't!' Hallem said. 'You just said--'
'Your mistake, former postulant,' Wolfe said, 'is assuming that I was ever going to dismiss anyone. I said you would all draw tiles this morning; I never said it meant anyone would be dismissed. It wouldn't have mattered what number you drew, as long as you drew a tile. I knew some of you would let your outrage override your good sense, because yesterday, for the first time, every one of you was a complete success.' He shook his head. 'A pity you didn't trust me. But then, I haven't given you any reason, have I?'
Silence fell heavy in the room. Everyone seemed stunned - those who'd held on to their tiles and thought they'd survived, those who thought they'd drawn losing numbers. Those who'd refused to play at all.
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 entitled On Press-Printing: A New Beginning by Research Scholar Christopher Wolfe, submitted to the Artifex Magnus for peer review and brought by him to the Curators of the Library. Marked as SEDITIOUS CONTENT and sent to the Black Archives by order of the Archivist Magister, for his eyes only.
... 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 cannot long sustain the massive burden of the Library, which calls on them for mirroring, for translation of books, objects and even people, and for many more similar demands.
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 annotation from the Artifex Magnus to the document:
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 connected to the Iron Tower itself, makes it even more disturbing.
As with Gutenberg and all others who have followed, we must destroy this heresy immediately and completely. We have no choice.
A following annotation from the Obscurist Magnus to the document:
The work that Scholar Wolfe has done must be destroyed, there is no question of it, but I cannot and will not agree to the destruction of the man himself. All his research, even that unrelated to this heresy, can be interdicted from the Codex and sent to the Black Archives. He can be effectively erased without the need of his death.
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 cannot see that, but I do.'
'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.'
He was. His fingers were dark with grease, and he blushed a hot red and left the room. When he came back, his skin was scrupulously clean, and he retrieved a light breakfast before crowding into a seat beside Jess and Khalila. 'Guten Morgen,' he said. 'Will we survive the day?'
'Depends,' Jess said. 'We don't know what Wolfe's got for us. What were you working on down there?' Thomas had established his own space downstairs, in a corner of an old storage room, where he rebuilt things that he rescued from dumps and market stalls. How he found the time was a mystery, given the work Wolfe piled on them, but Thomas insisted it was soothing.
'Something amazing,' Thomas said, and the delight in his face had a sly cast to it. 'I think you will especially like it, Jess. You see, I've been thinking about how the Codex functions.'
'The Codex functions through the Obscurists, and Wolfe made it very clear that the details of just exactly how it functions remain the secrets of Obscurists,' Khalila said. 'Thomas, I thought you would know all this by now.'
'I do! But only imagine if we could make all that unnecessary!'
'Make what unnecessary?'
'The Codex. Obscurists. All of it.'
'Unnecessary? Thomas! It's the basis of the Library!' Khalila had lowered her voice, and Jess saw the flash of worry on her face. When he tried to speak again, she gestured for him to speak more quietly.
Thomas's version of quiet was a hoarse whisper, and Jess didn't know that it helped much. 'It's inefficient, yes? Obscurists are rare. It is an unstable resource, you said that yourself in class. Safer to find another method. What if we could eliminate the need for the Codex?'
'You're barking mad,' Jess said. 'The Codex is necessary. Always will be.'
'What if I could show you something else? Something better?'
'You'd be the bloody Archivist Magister in a day. If it worked.'
'It will,' Thomas said, with complete confidence.
'Then show us.'
'Not yet. It isn't finished. But when it is, I will be able to make the Codex obsolete.'
Khalila was still frowning. 'Thomas, I don't know about this. It sounds like heresy to me. Be careful, will you? Please?'
'I am not a Burner!'
'I said it sounded like--'
Jess's Codex flashed and hummed. He pulled it free, and all the others buzzed as well.
From Wolfe.
It had an address listed, and nothing more. No instructions other than that, but it was clear what Wolfe wanted from them. Jess drained his coffee, and around him everyone else was doing the same.
'Come on,' Glain said. She was the first to the door. 'It's a long walk. We'd better hurry.'
The heat beat down from a shimmering molten sun, with no hint of clouds; the ocean breeze didn't help much, since it came weighted with moisture. Jess was getting used to the climate, but in the half-hour it took to follow Glain's long, fast strides to the address Wolfe had messaged them, he began to really miss the bone-chilling days of a London winter. The light cotton shirt he wore stuck to his skin in uncomfortable patches, and the crown of his head felt as if someone held a hot metal plate to it. When Thomas took a swig of water, his face brick-red from the exertion and heat, Jess remembered to do the same.
'Up there,' Glain said, and indicated a nondescript shop on the street. She paused, and when Dario would have pushed past her, she grabbed his shoulder to pull him to a stop. Unlike the rest of them, she didn't seem tired, or even overly warm. Jess wasn't even sure she was sweating. 'Wait. This seems wrong.'
'What do you mean, wrong? Wolfe sent for us. He gave us this address. What are you afraid of?' Dario pushed her hand away and kept walking.
They all followed him. Jess watched Glain, because she positioned herself near the back of the group, and he thought, she's using us for cover.
She really did sense something. He had no idea what, but it woke a stinging prickle of alarm on the back of his neck.
Dario had almost reached the front of the shop when Guillaume Danton said, 'Wait!' Dario came to a halt and looked back, frowning.
Guillaume drew in a sudden, sharp breath, and said, 'Step back, Dario. Carefully. Now.'
'Don't be stupid, there's nothing ...' Dario looked down, and his voice faded away to nothing.
His leg was just touching a thin, almost invisible, silver wire that stretched across the doorway. Guillaume moved forward and crouched down, face close to the wire. He straightened up. 'I can't see where it attaches. It may be an alarm, or something worse. Burners sometimes rig up Greek Fire to fall using this method.' When they all looked at him, he shrugged. 'I never said my family didn't know things.'
Dario took a very careful step back from the wire.
'We should go back,' Khalila said.
'Wolfe gave us the address,' Thomas said. 'I think he means for us to go inside.'
Izumi sighed. 'Why does he insist we do these things? Why can we not just learn - learn how to run a Serapeum for a change? I came to be a Scholar!'
'Haven't you paid attention?' Glain snapped back. 'That isn't why we were chosen. If they'd wanted us to be librarians, we wouldn't be here; we'd be taking training in our home cities and signing one-year contracts for a copper band. If you want to be a Scholar, you have to be better. You have to be able to handle yourself, out in the world.'
Glain was right. Absolutely right. Jess knew Thomas was right, too; retreat from this would mean a black mark. Wolfe wanted them inside.
'We have to go,' Jess said. 'You know we do.'
'By all means, go,' Danton said, and backed away. 'I'll be waiting out here. Better failure than funeral.'
'Coward,' Portero said. Danton raised his eyebrows and folded his arms with no evidence of caring. 'Fine, stay here. I'll take the lead.'
'Wait,' Jess said. 'Not through the front. There's another way.'
That got all their attention, and Dario said, 'How do you know?'
'Because there's always another way.' He hadn't lived his entire childhood running from one thing or another without learning something. 'Stay here. Let me scout it.'
Jess spotted the alleyway only when he was almost past it; it was hardly wider than his shoulders, and the walls converged into an optical illusion that was hard to distinguish unless you were looking for it. He kept his eyes open as he moved that way, but there were no tripwires below, no traps dangling above. The alley led around to the back of the shop, and he backed up and gestured for the others. They followed him to the small courtyard in the back.
The shop's door was shut. 'Now what?' Khalila asked. She was, for once, out of her depth. This wasn't a problem that would be solved by anything in her experience.
Glain turned to Jess. 'Locked. Can you op
en it?'
'Yes. Probably.'
She searched around and helped him locate pieces of wire, which he stripped and bent to the necessary angles. It was a simple lock. His da would have been disappointed in how long it took him to crack it, but the others seemed suitably impressed. When he started to open it, Glain caught hold of the latch and shook her head. 'Step back,' she said. 'Everybody. Back and to the sides.'
She was right. Glain kicked the door open with a sudden, violent movement and darted off to the right, and a glass bottle that had been balanced inside crashed down on the stone floor inside. The chemical reek of it hit Jess an instant before he saw a single, vividly green flame flare up. Greek Fire, but the bottle had been almost empty. It wouldn't have killed anyone, but it would have left a scar.
Glain swept the glass fragments aside with her boot and stepped inside ... and froze.
'What is it?' Jess asked.
She let out a fast, huffing breath, and stalked into the room to glare at Scholar Wolfe, who was sitting in a chair, calmly enjoying a hot cup of tea. 'Slow, but acceptable,' he said. 'Glain, well done.'
'Greek Fire?' Glain stood right in front of the Scholar, and glared. She had a fairly magnificent glare, Jess had to give her that. 'What kind of test was that?'
'An hour ago, it wasn't a test at all,' Wolfe said. 'Santi and his men arrested a nest of Burners in this shop this morning, and defused a series of traps, many of which they have left in place for you to discover, though they rendered them relatively safe. You did well in avoiding the tripwire in front, and the Greek Fire at the rear door. Now join Postulant Danton and search the rest of the shop.'
'Danton?' Jess turned, and saw that Guillaume was behind them, already going through boxes. 'I thought you were staying outside.'
'I waited to see if you died back there,' Guillaume said. 'You didn't. So I thought it was safe enough to come in.' He lifted a box from the pile next to him and carried it over to put it in the centre of the room. 'I found this: copper igniters. Burners use them for large Greek Fire containers. They might have been planning something big.'
'They were,' Wolfe said. 'I leave it to the rest of you to work it out for yourselves.'