Smoke and Iron (The Great Library #4)(62)

Why, then, do we treat Obscurists as such a special and prized breed?

The answer lies not in our desire for the innate value of their talents, though we value the skill of the Medica, the metalworker, or the writer.

The answer is that we value them out of proportion because we simply need them to operate a system that has not been changed in thousands of years. That is, namely, the Codex and the Archives. If the Obscurists were no longer necessary to make those core functions of the Library work, how much more could be accomplished in our world? How much better and faster and stronger would the Library now be?

We have fettered ourselves to a system that is bound to fail, and is failing now.

I am only a Medica, and not even Medica Magnus, but I will say this: we must see beyond our present needs to our future state.

If we do not, there may be no future for us at all.





PART EIGHT





MORGAN





CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO




It took weeks for Morgan to work out what clever thing Gregory had done to cripple her abilities. Elegant work, masterful . . . and, she strongly suspected, not his doing. Someone else had written the script, which by itself was useless; the targeted Obscurist had to have a particular innocuous drug in her system for the script to take any effect.

There was nothing she could do about the script, which he’d built into the crafting of her collar.

But the innocent companion drug? That was a point of failure.

She and Annis both looked up at the quiet knock, and Annis whispered, “Ready?” Morgan nodded, and the older woman stood and went to open the unlocked door.

The kitchen server brought in the tray and set it down silently on the nearest table.

“Good, I’m famished, and the wee girl here needs that soup; she can’t seem to keep anything else down,” Annis said. Her winning smile and warm charm disarmed whatever wariness the server might have had, and he smiled back, and instead of bolting from the room, as he’d probably been directed to do, he took the time to uncover the dishes and show Annis the contents.

“Lovely,” she said. “Just lovely, the work you do. Food is home, as I’m sure you know, and I thank you for it.” She put a gentle touch on the young man’s wrist, staring straight into his eyes. “You’re so tired, dear lad. Why don’t you sit for a moment?”

If this was going to work without violence, it had to work in that moment . . . and it did. The server, without a question, slipped quietly into the chair next to the table. Morgan watched in fascination as Annis weaved a silken, unbreakable web of words, lulling the man into a relaxed, trancelike state. She’d known Annis’s Obscurist powers were slight, but in this one area, she truly excelled.

Morgan sat up slowly when Annis gestured, but didn’t come closer.

“Now, my friend, is there any special seasoning in these dishes?” Annis asked.

“Yes.” The young man’s voice was flat but calm. Annis sent Morgan a nod. All was well. “Salt, pepper, curry powder, cardamom—”

“That’s in my dish, yes. And in my friend’s soup? Was there anything added to hers that is not added to someone else’s?”

The answer came slowly but firmly. “Yes.”

“And what is it?”

“I don’t know. It’s from a bottle we were given. It isn’t harmful.”

Annis’s glance at Morgan had taken on a hard look, but her voice remained quiet and gentle. “Of course not; you’d never do such a thing. None of you would. And who assured you it was harmless?”

“The Obscurist.” The young man frowned a little this time, as if the mere mention of the title disturbed him.

“I see. Tell me, do you like him?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m loyal to the Tower and the Library.”

“Yes, I know that. And it is to your credit—what is your name, young man?”

“Friedrich,” he said.

“Well, Friedrich, you have done nothing at all wrong in following the Obscurist’s orders; of course you haven’t. That liquid you add is as harmless as water. So it really doesn’t matter which bowl you add it to, does it?”

“No. But I was told—”

“If it’s harmless, it doesn’t matter, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, that’s right.” His frown cleared.

“And could you do me a favor, my friend Friedrich?”

“Of course, Obscurist Annis.”

“From now on, when you reach for that bottle, you will pour it instead into the food next to the one designated for Obscurist Morgan.”

“But I have orders—”

“The liquid is harmless, remember? So it doesn’t matter which food it goes into. You’d never do anything to harm any one of us, isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” Friedrich said, and then more strongly: “Yes, that’s right.”

“Then from now on, you will just add that liquid to my bowl, or if I am not eating at the same time as Obscurist Morgan, then to anyone else’s food. That sounds perfectly fine, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“So what are you going to do at the next meal?”

“Add the liquid to someone else’s bowl. Yours first. But anyone other than Obscurist Morgan’s if you aren’t there.”