The upper floors were where the poorer students took residence, as the rich ones preferred to avoid the daily climb. Tyen and Miko’s room was on the fourth floor, second from the top. When they finally reached their door they were both a little breathless. They tossed their bags on the floor, threw off their jackets and collapsed onto the beds.
“Home,” Miko said.
“Yes,” Tyen agreed.
“I’m hungry.”
“Dinner isn’t for an hour.”
Miko tapped his fingers together. “Then I’ll take my gear to the washhouse. Want me to take yours?”
“Thanks.”
They set to unpacking, and soon Miko had gone off with a bundle of dirty clothing under one arm. Alone, Tyen looked at the rest of his travel gear, now strewn across his bed. He began putting everything away. Miko had emptied the contents of his luggage on his desk, but Tyen’s was covered in tools and parts for making insectoids. A few partially made beetles, hoverflies and arachnids sat within rings of components needed to finish them. The cleaners had learned long ago not to disturb anything, so all was covered in a fine layer of finger-marked dust – thicker away from the central work area. Tyen did most of his studying and essay writing while sitting on the bed.
I wonder if Kilraker will make me help catalogue Neel and Miko’s finds, he thought. Perhaps he’ll take pity on me, since I didn’t find anything. Then I can finish these. The insectoids always found eager buyers, especially the customised ones with special abilities like playing tunes, or imprinted with specific commands.
“Beetle,” Tyen called. A whirr came from his satchel as the insectoid came to life. “Come.” One side of the bag’s flap lifted and the little machine emerged, scuttling to the edge of the bed, its auditory antennae waving. “Guard the room,” Tyen ordered.
Iridescent wings sprang open then blurred, carrying the insectoid up and over to the door. It landed and scurried into the gap beneath. Tyen smiled. Miko’s habit of barging in without knocking had been one of the reasons he’d created the insectoid in the first place.
With most of his gear stowed away, he sprawled on the bed and dragged the satchel closer. Taking Vella out, he considered where he should keep her.
Hide her? Knowing Tyen’s luck, Miko would burst in just as he was slipping her in whatever hiding place he came up with. Tell Miko about her? He shook his head. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Miko, but the young man lost the ability to keep secrets when he was drunk. Though he remained good at keeping his own secrets, so perhaps he would stay silent because Tyen knew about the poible he’d kept.
And that was another point. If Miko can keep something, why shouldn’t I?
Because Vella is no mere bauble. He sighed as the same old arguments ran through his mind. Disobeying the Academy made him uneasy, but Gowel’s story of the Academy letting discoveries go to waste worried him. He needed time to think about it, and in the meantime … around Miko he would simply behave as if Vella was an ordinary book. He might even be able to read her while Miko was around, though he’d still have to make sure he angled the book so his friend didn’t see the text appearing on the paper. Perhaps he’d tell Miko she was a boring textbook. No, he won’t believe that if he sees me reading it all the time. Perhaps a book about magic – something that sounded difficult and complicated. And if Miko still grew curious enough to investigate? Perhaps Vella can make herself look like an ordinary, boring textbook.
Opening the cover, Tyen looked down at the first, blank page.
I can’t do that. It would be a lie, and I cannot lie.
Can you say nothing at all then?
No. Remember, I must reply to questions if I know the answer. People often think in questions. He has only to think “What is this?” or “Why is Tyen reading a book with no text in it?” and I will have to answer.
I see. Though Miko is more likely to ask “When’s dinner?” or “Can I owe you for that?”
Both questions that he knows the answer to, therefore I know the answer to, and must reply.
Tyen chuckled as he pictured that conversation. Would Miko, like Tyen, find Vella’s honesty refreshingly frank or be put off by it?
From what I see of him in your mind, his taste in women tends towards those who offer physical rather than intellectual interaction.
You are – I am – probably right. At least Miko knew how to relate to women in one way. Unlike me … could Vella help with that?
Probably. Mostly because you are wrong to think you don’t understand women. You understand more than you believe. Men and women’s minds are not as different as you have been taught.
The world was different when you were whole. Women were different.
People stay the same. Only culture changes: traditions, ideas about right and wrong, what civilisation is and what threatens it. Your society has rigid ideas about the roles of men and women, class, manners and ethical behaviour while at the same time it has opened its mind to technological innovation and understanding of nature and the universe.
Tyen nodded. Perhaps these rules of society provided a safe feeling of stability when everything else was changing. Which reminded him of his obligation to her. I have so much to show you. But it will be some days before I am free to leave the Academy.
Take me with you anyway. Show me the Academy.
But I can’t get a book out and read in the middle of classes.
You don’t have to. Keep me against your skin and I will see all that you see and hear all that you—
A high-pitched noise jolted him from the page and he looked down to see Beetle scurry out from under the door. His heart skipped as he realised Miko was returning, but he made himself stay as he was. The door opened and his friend caught hold of the frame with the other hand to halt his forward motion.
“Dinner – you’re reading?”
Tyen closed the book and tossed it onto the bed. “Sorcery. Statistics. We’ll be back in class tomorrow. May as well get my head into the right frame of mind.”
Miko grimaced, then jerked his head in the direction of the stairs. “Come on. Neel’s back and has an audience already. He’s probably making up stories about us.”
“Can’t have that.” Getting to his feet, Tyen put Vella into his satchel then held the bag open. “Beetle. In.” The insectoid whirred into the air and dived inside. He slung the bag by its handle over the back of his chair, then followed Miko out of the room.
The sound of laughter drifted up the stairwell and when they reached the ground floor they found Neel sitting on a table, waving his arms around as he addressed a circle of students. Though they hadn’t worn them for days, Neel had his aircart jacket on over ordinary clothes, scarf wrapped close under his chin and his goggles strapped around his forehead.
Tyen stopped. “What … why is he wearing that here?”
“Apparently it’s the height of fashion to look as if you just landed an aircart. Women love it.”
“He looks ridiculous.”
“A right poser,” Miko agreed.
Tyen chuckled. “Must we sit near him?”
“I’m afraid we must.”
Shaking their heads, Tyen and Miko entered the dining room. Maybe it isn’t women I don’t understand, Tyen thought, but why men make such fools of themselves over them. Though it was more likely Neel wanted to impress his peers tonight, since no women were allowed here other than the serving staff. The few women students of the Academy were housed on the other side of the buildings, guarded by ever-watchful Matrons.
CHAPTER 5
With Vella safely tucked inside his shirt, Tyen strode out of the Academy gates. He hadn’t left the grounds for five days, but it felt far longer and the expedition already seemed a distant memory from months before. As he’d predicted, Professor Kilraker had recruited him, Miko and Neel after classes to catalogue the artefacts they’d brought back from Mailand, keeping them working well into the evenings and giving Tyen no chance to educate Vella. Eventually Kilraker had given
in to Miko’s relentless appeals that they have their first Market Day free to attend to familial or other duties.
Tyen doubted Miko or Neel had anything resembling family or duty to attend to. Not wanting to waste his first opportunity to show Vella the great advances of the modern era, Tyen had slipped away early. He’d decided to start with a visit to a place she would find both familiar and greatly changed.
A distant voice called from behind him.
“Tyen! Wait!”
He checked his stride, then cursed himself for betraying that he’d heard Miko’s call. As he heard two pairs of running footsteps behind him he knew that pretending not to would have been futile anyway. It was churlish to be annoyed that they wanted his company, too. He stopped and turned to wait.
“Where’re you going?” Miko asked as he slowed to stop before Tyen. Neel grinned as he followed suit.
“To the printery.”
Miko frowned. “Why?”
“I’m going to get a pamphlet made up denouncing the Academy as grave robbers.”
Neel’s smile vanished, but Miko laughed. “What are you really doing? Off to see some girl you haven’t told us about?”
Tyen shrugged. “No, I really am going to the printery to see how it all works.”
Miko’s eyebrows rose. “You know how it works.”
“In theory. I’ve not seen it for myself. Have you?”
To Tyen’s surprise, Neel was nodding. “Like going to Mailand. You can read all about it, but you don’t properly know about anything until you see it.” Then to Tyen’s dismay, he stepped up beside him. “I’m in. Let’s go.”
“Very well then,” Miko said, then grinned. “So long as afterwards we go and see something I want to see.”
“Sounds fair,” Neel said, and looked at Tyen expectantly.
Suppressing a sigh, Tyen nodded. “And you after that, Neel?”
Neel shrugged. “If I think of something, and there’s time.”
The printeries of Leratia were within half an hour’s walk of the Academy. Closer than most industries because the institution was a good customer, but not so close that the academics would be bothered by the noise and smells. Tyen picked a company name he recognised, Leadbeater & Sons, walked into the reception and enquired if he and his fellow students might see how it all worked.
Eager to please potential future customers, Mr Leadbeater himself took them on a tour of the premises, first showing them some paper samples.
“We use the best paper-makers in West Leratia,” the man assured them.
“And vellum?” Tyen asked.
Leadbeater nodded. “We can get it. It is rarely asked for due to the expense, and we have very satisfactory alternatives.” He moved to a chest of wide, shallow drawers and drew out a small, creamy sheet, then took what appeared to be a book from a case but which was, in fact, bound samples of paper. Placing both on a table, he opened the sample book to a page near the back. “Examine these, and see if you can tell the difference.”
Tyen fingered the sheet and the page of the book, noting the surface texture and flex when he curled the page, then passed them to his friends. “I can’t tell which is which.”
Mr Leadbeater smiled and pointed at the sample book. “Paper can simulate vellum, but to do so involves extra processing therefore extra cost. For most purposes, ordinary paper will suffice – and I think people have come to expect the crispness of modern paper and its particular crinkle as the page turns. Would you like to see the printing machines?”
“Yes, please.”
He ushered them to a heavy door. As it opened, their senses were assaulted by a cacophony of noise and a mixture of smells both unpleasant and familiar. They followed Leadbeater into a long room filled with men and machines. Tyen immediately noted the arms extending from each machine to a long, revolving shaft stretching across the roof to a hole in the far wall. Not all the machines were working, so not all the arms were attached, but those that were pumped steadily. The printery owner followed Tyen’s gaze.
“We’re connected to the same engine as four other printeries,” Leadbeater told him, shouting to be heard above the noise. He waved at the far wall. “Behind there.”
Tyen did not need to be told. The printery was dark with Soot. Even had he needed to use magic now, he would have had a difficult time finding any within his reach. Though if I … He stretched his senses beyond the high ceiling and felt magic flowing down to a point not far beyond the end wall.
Which meant a sorcerer must be there as well, directing the flow and keeping the engine working.
I could end up with a job like that one day.
As always, he had mixed feelings about the prospect. His father had been employed as a machine driver for most of his life. It was menial work, but it paid well. Enough that he’d been able to send Tyen to the Academy in the hopes his son would do something more interesting with his gift. Trouble is, interesting uses of magic that pay well are few and far between. Which was why he’d chosen to study history as well. If he didn’t make it as an archaeologist and treasure hunter, or find something exciting to do with magic, at least he could stay at the Academy and teach.
Mr Leadbeater had stopped beside a two-tiered table. A man with blackened fingertips was plucking type from trays spread over the table and slotting it into a device rather like a short dustpan. As the printery owner explained the steps in setting the type, then led them over to printing machines to see the inking of type and sheets of paper being pressed to the plate, Tyen focused on the pressure of the book tucked into his shirt and wondered what Vella was making of all this. Is the demonstration going too quickly? Does she understand all of what she is being shown? I wish I could take her out and see if she has any questions.
They moved on to cutting and folding machines, slicing the printed sheets of paper to size and bundling them ready for binding. A row of men were sewing these together. Their guide took them aside to a corner of the printery that smelled strongly of glue. A grey-haired man wearing a leather apron peered at them through a single eye lens set within a bracket affixed to his hat brim.
“Mr Balmer is our cover-maker,” Leadbeater explained. He turned to the employee. “Could you demonstrate to these young future academics the construction of a cover?”
The man’s eyebrows rose, but he nodded then beckoned them over to a table. He moved aside stacks of stiff cloth rectangles piled on the table then turned to what looked like a bin of offcuts and drew out a scrap of dark green fabric.
“The cloth covering is more than decoration,” he explained. “It forms the hinge. We use two thicknesses of card. These are for the covers…” – he took two rectangles of card from a shelf, cut into what Tyen guessed were standard measurements – “… and the spine is done with thinner, flexible strips of card.” He now cut a strip from a large roll. “Glue it all into position.” With practised efficiency, he took a brush from a large tin of glue and slathered the sticky substance over the front of the cards. Taking the thin strip, he laid it down the centre, then he picked up the two rectangles of thick card and placed them on either side.
“Now we cut.” Taking a knife, he deftly sliced away fabric until there was an even overhang on all four sides of the card, and removed a wedge at each corner. Taking away the scraps of fabric, he smiled. “Glue and fold.” He wetted the overhang then picked up a tool made of bone and began to coax the fabric over the back of the cards, first starting at the corners to tuck the excess in before concentrating on the edges.
“It must be dried in a press to avoid warping. Of course, this is very plain. We can create impressions by gluing thinner card with areas removed onto the front before applying the cloth, or add string to form ridges around the spine which, while only decorative now, emulates a form of binding from the past. Any questions?”
Tyen opened his mouth but Miko spoke before he had a chance. “How do you get the pages into it?”
The old man gestured to a long table in the centre of th
e bindery, where men were operating smaller machines. “You will see that in a moment, but essentially we glue them in, using a sheet of heavy paper at the front and back.”
“Do you use leather for covers?” Tyen asked.
The binder nodded, and the skin crinkled around his eyes. “Yes, on more valuable books. It is a pleasure to work with.”
“Do you prepare the leather yourself?”
“No.” His nose wrinkled. “Tanning is an unpleasant process, best done well away from cities. The skin must be soaked in lime and the hairs scraped from it, then stretched and worked to make it supple. By the accounts I’ve heard, it makes quite a stink.”
“Like that glue?” Miko asked.
The man laughed. “That makes a fragrant perfume compared to tanning.”
Tyen grimaced. I suppose he’s used to the printery smells after all these years.
“Any more questions?” Balmer asked.
Tyen hesitated as one came to mind. His friends would think he was crazy. But he couldn’t ignore the opportunity. He steeled himself for ridicule.
“We’re history students. I’m interested in strange old books. Ever heard of a book made of bones and skin and hair?”
The binder’s eyebrows rose. “No.” He looked thoughtful. “I suppose it could be done. Vellum is skin. Thread can be spun from hair. The bone … perhaps if you found a piece flat enough it could be used instead of the cover card. Though you’d need a flat bone, and I don’t know enough about the bones of animals to say if there’s one suitable.” He shrugged. “You’d have to ask a meat man about that.” Then he smiled. “Are you writing a book about that? A book about books?”