On Al Ahiz’s table was a pile of outsized books, enormous tomes meant for show and public reading: a Qur’an, a Capital, and a Bible, sitting together. One at a time he carried them out of the bedroom and put them on the floor.
He pulled the bedroom door to and brightened his light-bee.
The Qur’an was an exquisite work of illumination and calligraphy, compared with the prosaic Cyrillic of the Capital. Both books were post-Turn, painstakingly copied by hand by scholar or holy man. The Bible had a heavy tooled leather and wood cover, a gilded cross supported by an ox, an eagle, a lion and a man. The clasp that held it shut was fastened by a little brass lock.
‘This is the one,’ said Benzamir, and faithfully carried the other two books back into the bedroom. Al Ahiz was now on his vast stomach, snorting into his pillow.
Benzamir heaved the Bible up; it was a heavy, cumbersome thing, to be processed and venerated, not carried under one arm or slipped into a bag. He staggered downstairs with it and backed into the first library, where Alessandra was still scooping books off the shelves and tapping behind on the woodwork.
‘What’s that?’ she asked.
‘I think it’s what everyone in this city is looking for.’ He laid it down on the floor and inspected the lock. ‘I could pick it, but I don’t have a bent piece of wire of the right gauge.’
He pressed the mouth of his laser against it and gave it the most perfunctory of pulses. Shiny metal slithered into the cracks between the stone flags, leaving a thin smoke trail of burned dust as it flowed.
‘Ready?’ he said, and flicked the remains of the clasp away. ‘Normally, I wouldn’t dream of wrecking such a beautiful piece of work, but I have a feeling someone’s beaten me to it.’
He opened the cover, and Alessandra crowded close. Her fingers turned the pages over one by one: title page, a list of the books of the Bible, Genesis Chapter One. ‘What language is this?’
‘Greek. It’s post-Turn, but it’s an ancient translation. A shame, really . . .’ He leaned forward, gathered enough of the unopened pages to take in half of Numbers, and drew them back.
Al Ahiz had cut out the centre of the Bible, leaving a rectangular space big enough for the User book. Everything from Balaam’s donkey to the Damascus Road had been excised.
Alessandra lifted the User book free. ‘This is it. How did you ever find it?’
‘Luck and intuition. Maybe even magic.’ Benzamir closed the Bible and left it on the floor for Al Ahiz to find in the morning.
‘And really?’
‘The Ethiopians are Copts. They’d never have imagined for one moment that a man would have cut up the Scriptures, let alone one as rich in history as this. It must have broken Al Ahiz’s heart to do it: his loss, our gain.’
Alessandra put the book on the rug that had covered the trapdoor and wrapped it up carefully. ‘Can we go now?’
‘Do you think we’ve left Wahir and Said outside long enough yet? Shouldn’t we leave it a little longer, so that their relief at our reappearance is all the greater?’
‘That’d be a terrible thing to do. Wizard or no, get down those steps.’ Alessandra handed Benzamir the book. ‘And you can get rid of this damn glowing insect. It’s just too strange.’
Her light-bee sailed across and joined his, and immediately she stumbled over the Bible.
‘Don’t reject something just because it seems strange. It’s comfort that will kill you in the end.’ Benzamir clutched the book to his chest and carefully descended into the cellar. Alessandra picked herself up and followed the fading light.
CHAPTER 28
THEY WERE BACK in Benzamir’s old lodgings. The four of them crowded round, kneeling, staring at the still-wrapped book lying on the floor. Benzamir had ordered more light, and when the lamps had proved insufficient, stationed his light-bees over the rug.
‘Master, what are you waiting for?’ Wahir reached forward, and Said slapped the boy’s arm and shook his head in reproof.
‘I don’t know,’ said Benzamir, and sat back on his heels. ‘I never open presents straight away. I always try and guess what’s in them first, and see if I’m right afterwards.’
‘But you know what’s in it,’ sighed Alessandra.
‘No. No, I don’t. I know what it’s supposed to be. I’m hoping it might well be something greater.’
‘The traitor’s magic?’
‘Thank you, Said.’
Alessandra had had enough. ‘For heaven’s sake.’ She peeled back one of the folds of heavy cloth and let it fall back in a cloud of sparkling dust. Despite herself, she grew hesitant.
‘Do it.’
She complied. The ceiling shimmered with reflected light.
‘Shiny,’ said Wahir, and dared to place a greasy fingertip on the cover.
Benzamir frowned. ‘This isn’t right.’
‘What do you mean?’ Alessandra breathed on the cover, watched the way her breath condensed on it, then evaporated away. ‘This is the User book.’
He jabbed his finger down. ‘But this is a User book.’
‘I just said that.’
‘I wasn’t expecting an actual User book.’ Benzamir pressed his palms together so that his nails turned white. ‘It’s not what I thought it would be.’
‘Will someone tell me what’s going on?’
‘The master doesn’t have to explain himself to you,’ said Said.
Alessandra took offence and narrowed her eyes at him.
Benzamir opened the cover and traced his fingers over the map-and-leaves symbol cut into the surface of the first page. There was writing beneath it.
‘Can you read what it says?’ asked Said.
‘Maybe. This language is as dead as a dead thing, but it gave rise to World. Anyway, there’s more to reading than just the words. There has to be context and meaning and understanding.’ He looked up, his face illuminated. ‘This is a genuine antique. Pre-Turn. This isn’t something from the traitors, dressed up to be User tech: this is the real thing.’
‘Are you disappointed, master?’
Benzamir slowly smiled. ‘How could I be disappointed with something as magnificent as this? Look.’ He drew his fingers across the first page, bowing it up, bringing it down onto the cover. There were more words, arranged in columns, in the same precise, inhuman hand. He slid pages by until he reached one that showed a picture of some coloured balls.
There was something odd about the picture. It seemed to be set behind the book, like a tiny model. Wahir tried to dip his finger into it, and only hit hard metal.
‘Where is it?’
‘Watch. I think I know what this does now. Just watch the picture.’ Benzamir brought the light-bees down so that the page shone.
The balls started to turn, then fly apart, disappearing under the edge of the frame. At their first movement, everyone but Benzamir rocked backwards. Gradually they edged forwards again. One ball of each colour was left behind. Each of these was broken down in turn, and then those parts turned into a pastel line of various lengths.
Suddenly the balls were back, and the whole sequence started again.
They watched, entranced, but when it became clear that nothing else was going to happen, they grew restless.
Their impatience eventually penetrated Benzamir’s rapt attention. He opened another page at random and let it charge up enough to play its video clip through.
‘But what does it do?’ asked Said. ‘Why is the emperor turning the city upside down to find this?’
‘Apart from the fact that this is simply amazing? This is all the secrets of the Users in one handy volume, complete with moving pictures. Except’ – and he turned the book over, opened the back cover and leafed a few pages in – ‘except this is just quantum physics. It’s not genetics, or cosmology, or chemistry. Or geology, ecology, or any other -ology you care to mention. There’s more out there than this.’