Sword and Pen (The Great Library #5)(58)

Here is the map to the location. I suggest you arrange for a distraction to draw High Garda and automata to the other side of the city. Perhaps there’s finally a use for those Russians camped outside the walls.

I would attempt this myself, but if I leave the Iron Tower there will be no one left to cover for you and warn you of any actions. They already suspect, after discovering the rewriting of the sphinxes at the Greek fire armory.

I’m of more use here, for now. Until things change.


Reply from the Archivist in Exile, hidden from observation


We both know why you haven’t left the Iron Tower. You’re a coward, Vanya. But that makes you valuable to me. As to a candidate to undertake the trials . . . I think I know exactly who to get.

There is only one person alive in this city who understands Heron’s work as deeply as Heron himself.





CHAPTER TEN





THOMAS

“No, not like that,” Thomas said, and elbowed the Artifex Magnus aside. He was sweating, stripped of his jacket, and he hardly recognized that he’d just shoved a member of the Great Library’s Curia out of the way until it was far too late. “Sorry,” he mumbled, but not with any real regret. “We have little time.”

“Yes, I know that, son,” Artifex Greta Jones said. She was American, which was a curiosity in and of itself—a round, pleasant woman with more than enough talent at engineering for nearly any task set before her. A rich, slow accent like melting butter. “Easy, now. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it.”

There was no time to be polite, or easy. Thomas knew she was wrong. That wasn’t modest, but it was true. He quickly unscrewed the bolts holding the gigantic crystal in place and gently lowered it to the worktable nearby. Everything looked fine, but he could read from the power consumption curve that it was not fine at all. “It’s not performing as expected,” he said as he unbolted the platinum casing that held the crystal. “The power cycle should have been longer, and recovery shorter. There’s something—”

As soon as the casing was off, he saw it, and his heart sank. Something had been off in the measurements, just the tiniest bit, and the distribution of stress must have thrown the calculations off and caused vibration. Vibration had caused a flaw.

The crystal was useless. The crack within it was tiny, a speck that would have been meaningless for any other purpose . . . but not this one. It could be recut and the flaw eliminated, but he’d custom built the casing for this stone to exacting specifications. That had been shortsighted.

The Artifex looked at the crystal, and he could tell she saw what he did. “It’ll crack straight through the next time we use it,” she said. “You were right. I’m sorry I doubted you. We could recut it, but that will reduce power . . .”

“It will,” he confirmed. “I’ll have the jewelers cut more crystals while I make a different kind of casing. One that can adjust to different crystal dimensions, in case we must change them more frequently. Put this one back, reduce the power output, and pray that they don’t force us to use it again more than once before the replacement is ready.” The Lighthouse Ray was, in effect, a giant bluff, a gamble that he and the Artifex had decided was worth the risk when they embarked on it. Now it had become more threat than reality.

“I’m concerned that should the crystal shatter, the power released could destroy this chamber and even the top few floors of the Lighthouse,” Artifex Jones said. “Look.” She took out a tablet and quickly scratched out equations, a dense forest of variables and calculations that were impressive even by Thomas’s standards. She finished and held it out, and as he took it and mentally recalculated, he nodded. She was right. There was a significant risk that if the crystal failed under use, the resulting explosion would create a deadly hail of fragments and shatter the Lighthouse’s magnificent focusing mirror. It would destroy this chamber, possibly even cause damage down the central airflow chamber. The Lighthouse itself was built to withstand huge forces—floods, storms, earthquakes—but a single catastrophic explosion might even topple part of it into the sea. It was an enormous responsibility, and Thomas felt himself recoil. I don’t want to be the person who destroys the Pharos Lighthouse.

But neither did he want to be the person who lost the Great Library because he couldn’t mitigate the risk.

“It will hold for one more shot,” he told her. “But only one, and then you must shut it down. I’ll go immediately to the workshops.”

“Requisition what you need. I’m giving you blanket authority.” She’d already unsnapped her Codex and was writing the message by the time she finished the words. He refastened the casing to the flawed crystal, carried it back to the frame, and bolted it back in place. He adjusted the angle of it to be sure the alignment was perfect and then turned to the Artifex.

“Thank you for trusting me,” he said. Her dark eyebrows rose at the same time she smiled.

“Why wouldn’t I trust you?” she asked. “You’re a brilliant engineer, maybe the best we’ve seen since Heron. Our business is one of careful steps, development, and revision until a thing is perfect. You can’t predict that. Never forget: even geniuses make mistakes. It’s not a moral failing. It’s inevitable.”