Even this close to the city’s geographic heart, and so far from the walls that not even the towers could be seen, soldiers stood on many corners. Patrols hurried past in full armour and the colours of the Seventh. The citizens watched and worried. Verity was the only city Nona had spent time in so she didn’t know if other cities had moods, but Verity did, and it was scared.

‘Tree of Gold.’ Jula pointed to the elaborate cathedral tower peering over the roof of the mansion ahead.

‘It doesn’t look like a tree,’ Ruli said.

‘That would be architecturally challenging,’ Ara said.

‘At one time,’ Markus’s deep voice sounded behind them, ‘the central tower bore golden branches similar to the arborat. I believe they were wooden and covered with beaten gold. The taproot runs down through the great hall and is said to burrow beneath the catacombs.’

Nona glanced at the cuffs of her habit. The arborat was stitched there, a dozen of the tree symbols embroidered to encircle her wrists. Their taproots strained towards the first ancestor, though they thinned and vanished before reaching her elbows. She tried to imagine the arborat a hundred feet tall, the Ancestor’s tree gleaming in the sun. ‘Serenity,’ she instructed, and reached for her own.

The former cathedral stood at the centre of a broad plaza where a handful of stallholders still lingered, dismantling their awnings and counters. Guards stood at attention on the main steps, six of them. Their presence was probably dictated by the fact that the clergy’s wages were held somewhere within, rather than the need to watch over dusty books, but they would guard the high priest’s vault just the same.

‘Ruli, I want you high and watching. There might be thread-works on the vault. We could trigger an alarm. If anyone comes running do what you can to slow them up with mist and shadows.’

Ruli nodded. ‘I’ll try.’

‘Ara, you’re on diversion. If we have trouble it could bring soldiers. If that happens they’re going to need a better reason to head somewhere else. Perhaps a light-and-thunder show would do it.’

Ara nodded. ‘I’ll be up there.’ She pointed to the roof of a mansion facing onto the plaza.

‘Markus, you’re with me. All we need is for everyone we meet to be agreeable.’

He nodded. ‘That rather depends on who we meet, but I can be pretty persuasive.’

‘And, Jula, you’re the brains.’

‘I am?’ A moment of panic threatened from the far side of Jula’s serenity. ‘I am.’ The repetition bore more confidence.

‘Let’s do it then.’ Nona led towards the cathedral doors wondering where it was that Jula renewed her confidence and whether there was any more left there. This was dangerous. The killing kind. Stealing Sister Pan’s book could see them thrown out of the convent and possibly into a cell. Being caught stealing from the high priest’s vault would see them executed, no doubt in some unpleasant manner prescribed by an antiquated Church law.

Nona tried to steady the tremor in her hands. So much at stake and all for a promise to an old woman. Staked on a promise and on the faith that even at the end of her life Abbess Glass could still outplay all comers in the long game.

As she mounted the broad steps Nona reached for the order imprinted with the abbess’s seal of office. Jula had Sister Pan’s book in a leather satchel beneath her arm.

‘Sister?’ One of the guards stepped down to intercept her. ‘It’s too late in the day to go inside. All the clerks have gone home.’

‘I’m delivering a forbidden text to the high priest’s vault.’ Nona nodded towards Jula, who held out the order blazoned with the abbess’s seal.

‘I’m sorry, sister.’ The man frowned at Jula’s paperwork. ‘You should have sent ahead to make an appointment. You’ll have to return in the morning.’ He blocked her path. He lacked an inch or two on her in height but stood far broader in the shoulders, a steel breastplate protecting the space between them.

Markus stepped up, an easy smile in place. ‘Guardsman, this blue-eyed nun can’t wait in a war-torn city with a forbidden book. It could fall into the wrong hands. It needs to be placed safely in the vaults.’

A moment’s silence hung between them. Markus started to nod and the guardsman hesitantly took to nodding too. ‘Blue eyes …’ A frown and then with more confidence he said, ‘Yes. It would be better stored away, brother.’

The guardsman led them up the steps. The other guards opened the doors, two men to each, then closed them at their heels. And although Markus had won their entrance with a power that should see the three of them safely in and safely out again Nona couldn’t help feel those great doors closing behind them were the jaws of a trap that they had willingly stuck their heads into.

‘We’ll roust Brother Edran from his chambers and get that book where it belongs.’

‘Brother Edran?’ Nona asked.

‘He oversees the high priest’s vault. Spends more time locked up with those books than he does with people.’ The guardsman shuddered.

The cathedral’s great hall had been divided up long ago, timber frames set to support new levels and partition walls. The guardsman led them into a maze of corridors, smoke-stained and sparsely lit with lanterns. They passed a few elderly clerks, one busy locking doors and extinguishing lights. Here and there guardsmen slouched along on patrol, old men and boys now that the wars had claimed those fit for battle.

Their guardsman stopped at a door deep within the structure and hammered on it.

‘Edran? Edran! Customers for you!’

A long pause followed. ‘He’s a bit deaf.’ The guardsman shrugged apologetically. ‘EDRAN!’

This time a series of clatterings mixed with complaints grew louder until the door jerked open and an old man in a bed-robe stared up at them, his bald head surrounded by a fringe of white hair, with more of the stuff erupting from both ears.

‘These folk have a book for the vault,’ the guard said.

‘Has ale finally turned your brain to mud, Mika?’ Edran squinted at Nona, Jula, then finally Markus. ‘Tell them to come back in the morning.’

Mika frowned and eyed Nona with a measure of suspicion. ‘It is irregular …’

Markus spoke, his voice vibrant, each word sinking into the mind. ‘It is important. The book must go in the vault now.’

‘Nonsense! The day some monk, too young to shave, comes to order me about in my own archive …’ Outrage overtook the old man’s tongue. ‘Get out!’

Markus blinked and shot Nona a worried look. ‘It. Is. Important.’

‘It will be important in the morning. Right now it’s just irritating.’ Edran advanced, pushing Markus before him. ‘Get out! Mika, drag this boy out of here or so help me …’

Jula backed away, looking mortified.

Nona couldn’t believe how easily the old man was shrugging off Markus’s best efforts. Despite herself she believed his words, more deeply than she believed her own name. She stared at the librarian, hunting for some clue to his resilience.

‘Yes, Edran. Apologies.’ Mika interposed himself between the two men and took hold of Markus.

Nona moved quickly. She moved in front of Edran, meeting his outraged stare with her wholly black eyes, and pressed one hand firmly to his chest.