Paper and Fire (The Great Library #2)(94)
“I hope Glain will be all right,” Khalila said, as she helped Thomas up.
“She’s in good hands,” Wolfe said, turning in a storm of black robes to stride back to them. “The Tower gets the best of everything the Library has to offer.”
“Except freedom,” Morgan said. He turned to look at her, and she dropped her gaze.
“Except that,” he agreed.
Gregory said, “Come on, then,” and led the way out.
Jess supposed he shouldn’t have been astonished by the interior of the Iron Tower, but he was, and felt as much of a bumpkin gone to market as he had on his first day in Alexandria.
The tower’s central core held rooms. The garden room and Translation Chamber—which sat atop everything else—stretched across the entire expanse from side to side. Beneath that, stairs wound in a flat spiral around the outer walls of the tower, and Jess could feel the warmth of the Alexandrian sun radiating through the metal skin—muted, but not completely gone. Nevertheless, it was cool inside, an artificial sort of coolness that puzzled him, until he felt a breeze from a grate blowing unnaturally cool air. He mentioned it to Thomas, who nodded. “It’s like the heated air we use in the winter,” he said. “Here, heat is as much the enemy as our cold.”
“I can understand heat, but how do you cool air down? Ice?”
“Chemicals,” Thomas said. “There are some that freeze things. I suppose blowing air over a mixture of them might do the trick. I never thought of it before.” He seemed thoughtful, distracted by the question. That was good. He even seemed strong enough to take the stairs alone, though with Santi’s watchful support at the ready.
The cool air wasn’t the only marvel. The lights were made of clear glass globes with glowing centers that seemed like trapped starlight. And they were everywhere . . . hanging from chains overhead, powering lamps sitting on tables. When he reached out to touch the nearest lit glass, it scorched his fingers as if he’d put them in an open flame. He felt like an idiot.
“It’s powered by electricity,” Morgan said. “The heat’s a by-product.”
“I didn’t think electricity could be used for illumination! I thought it was just a party trick, of no real useful application.”
“One of a great many things we’ve been taught that isn’t true,” she said. “Don’t be fooled by all the wonders. It’s a pretty prison. Still a prison.”
Gregory was already proceeding down another round of stairs ahead of them, and they had to hurry to catch up. Khalila seemed as fascinated as Jess with what they were seeing, though far less willing to risk skin in experimentation. She dropped back to chat with Thomas, and they had an animated conversation about the wonders of the square lifting device, quite like a small room on tracks, that rose and fell, carrying people from one floor of the tower to another. Electrical as well, Jess gathered from the densely technical discussion. Jess was used to the ever-present sound of steam pumps; it had been the constant heartbeat of London, and even in Alexandria the hiss of them was never far away. But here . . . here the power they used gave it an eerie, calm silence.
They arrived at a floor near the middle of the tower, and Gregory led them through a closed door. A central hallway ran straight through, bisecting the circle, and on each side of it lay more closed doors. “There,” he said. “One for everyone. Choose your own; they’re all equally well appointed, with full baths and fine beds. You’ve even got a window in each, though I would recommend against trying to open them. Or break them.”
“Are we to be locked in?” Santi asked.
“Certainly not. You’re free to come and go as you like. Explore the Tower. Just don’t try to leave.” His gaze swept over them and fixed on Jess. “We have sphinx guards downstairs. Ours do not turn off. Nor are they susceptible to rewritten scripts. Their behavior is etched into their metal bones.” He checked an elaborately gilded clock that graced an alcove in the center of the hall, between two of the rooms. “Dinner will be downstairs in an hour. Morgan can show you the way. There are bells in your rooms. Pull them if you require anything. Someone will be on duty no matter the hour.” Gregory smiled, and for the first time he looked less than friendly. It was not a pleasant change. “Morgan. After dinner, I will expect you back in your own room.”
She nodded, but said nothing. They watched as the Obscurist left and made his way down the stairs, and waited until he was gone before Jess walked to the door they’d entered and shut it. There was no lock to keep Gregory out. He wasn’t overly surprised.
“Morgan?” Wolfe was looking at the girl now, turning her to face him. “I know Gregory. I know what he does. Do you want to talk to me?”
“No,” she said. “You can’t help me, can you?”
He seemed to consider that for a moment. “We’ll see about that. Nic? Do you have a preference for a room?”
“One that isn’t inside this damned tower?” Santi chose a door at random and swung it open. Stopped and seemed to reconsider. “Or . . . I suppose I might grow accustomed.” The room, Jess realized as he craned to look, was enormous and luxurious, and the bed looked more lushly comfortable than anything he’d ever seen. Surely even kings didn’t sleep that well.
Jess opened the door across the hall. It was a mirror image, just as rich. The fabrics were muted golds and crimsons, and the floor was covered with a carpet so soft it felt like stepping on pillows.