inside the entrance to a library filled with two rows of tall bookcases. The shelves of the bookcases were lined with actual physical, bound volumes, and each bookcase
rose to well above head height, terminating just beneath a ceiling four or five metres overhead. Reading tables and thickly upholstered furniture on ragged and dusty-looking rugs filled the space
between the two rows, while the walls of the library appeared to have been cut from the same unadorned stone as the hall.
A body lay slumped a few metres from a pair of glass-panelled doors at the far end of the library, beyond which lay an outside patio with a view over the rest of the island. Two mechants hovered
near the corpse, presumably set there to guard it.
Luc stepped forward, then glanced back to see Zelia de Almeida and the rest of the Councillors gathered by the entrance to the library. De Almeida fluttered one hand towards Vasili’s inert
form as if to say go on .
Luc stepped around the body where it lay sprawled across a patterned rug. Part of Vasili’s head, along with much of his torso and almost the entire pelvic region, had been burned to ashes.
The rug beneath the body was crisped black.
Luc tried to keep his breathing shallow as he knelt on one knee by Vasili’s remains. He glanced toward the patio doors, thinking.
Vasili had hit the floor face-down, but the blackened remains of one arm reached towards the patio. Luc put one hand on the scorched rug near what remained of the head, then leaned down until
his cheek almost touched the floor, trying to get a better look at the dead man’s face without disturbing the body. One side of the skull had melted, exposing the brain, but the side of the
face that had been facing away from the blast that killed him was recognizably that of Sevgeny Vasili. That, at least, removed any doubts about who had been killed.
Luc sat back up and looked towards the patio doors, noting that the glass panels nearest the ground had melted and shattered.
He glanced back down at Vasili, and spotted something he’d missed at first glance. Leaning down again, he saw that a book lay wedged just beneath the body, and by some miracle appeared to
be intact. It lay partly open beneath Vasili’s chest, and what pages Luc could see had a slight metallic lustre to them, as if they were formed from sheets of some metallic composite instead
of paper. That, at least, might explain why the book had survived as well as it had.
He reached down to see if it was possible to carefully tug the book out from under the body without disturbing it too much. As he did so, his fingers brushed the edge of one page, and what
happened next took his breath away.
He stumbled into the library, frightened and alone. Beyond the patio, the sun cast long streaks of fire across the evening sky as it sank towards the horizon. He searched frantically for what
he needed.
There. He raced towards a shelf and picked out the book, catching sight of the lettering on the spine: A History of the Tian Di , by Javier Maxwell.
Stepping towards the glass doors, he peered out to see a flier drop towards the courtyard outside. Fear clutched at his heart, but then he took a deep breath, pressing trembling fingers
against the pages, desperate to record one last message . . .
‘Winchell,’ he muttered under his breath. ‘I was wrong, so very wrong. I see that now.’
Luc gasped, and rocked back onto his haunches, pulling his fingers away from the book and pressing them against his chest as if he had been scalded.
Just for a moment, he had been Sevgeny Vasili.
‘Mr Gabion? Are you all right?’
Luc turned to see Cheng standing halfway between the entrance to the library and the corpse. The rest remained huddled together by the door.
Luc glanced down at Vasili’s body, the book still mostly hidden beneath it. From where he stood, Cheng couldn’t see it.
‘I’m sorry, I guess this is all just a little . . .’ Luc shook his head, struggling to
rose to well above head height, terminating just beneath a ceiling four or five metres overhead. Reading tables and thickly upholstered furniture on ragged and dusty-looking rugs filled the space
between the two rows, while the walls of the library appeared to have been cut from the same unadorned stone as the hall.
A body lay slumped a few metres from a pair of glass-panelled doors at the far end of the library, beyond which lay an outside patio with a view over the rest of the island. Two mechants hovered
near the corpse, presumably set there to guard it.
Luc stepped forward, then glanced back to see Zelia de Almeida and the rest of the Councillors gathered by the entrance to the library. De Almeida fluttered one hand towards Vasili’s inert
form as if to say go on .
Luc stepped around the body where it lay sprawled across a patterned rug. Part of Vasili’s head, along with much of his torso and almost the entire pelvic region, had been burned to ashes.
The rug beneath the body was crisped black.
Luc tried to keep his breathing shallow as he knelt on one knee by Vasili’s remains. He glanced toward the patio doors, thinking.
Vasili had hit the floor face-down, but the blackened remains of one arm reached towards the patio. Luc put one hand on the scorched rug near what remained of the head, then leaned down until
his cheek almost touched the floor, trying to get a better look at the dead man’s face without disturbing the body. One side of the skull had melted, exposing the brain, but the side of the
face that had been facing away from the blast that killed him was recognizably that of Sevgeny Vasili. That, at least, removed any doubts about who had been killed.
Luc sat back up and looked towards the patio doors, noting that the glass panels nearest the ground had melted and shattered.
He glanced back down at Vasili, and spotted something he’d missed at first glance. Leaning down again, he saw that a book lay wedged just beneath the body, and by some miracle appeared to
be intact. It lay partly open beneath Vasili’s chest, and what pages Luc could see had a slight metallic lustre to them, as if they were formed from sheets of some metallic composite instead
of paper. That, at least, might explain why the book had survived as well as it had.
He reached down to see if it was possible to carefully tug the book out from under the body without disturbing it too much. As he did so, his fingers brushed the edge of one page, and what
happened next took his breath away.
He stumbled into the library, frightened and alone. Beyond the patio, the sun cast long streaks of fire across the evening sky as it sank towards the horizon. He searched frantically for what
he needed.
There. He raced towards a shelf and picked out the book, catching sight of the lettering on the spine: A History of the Tian Di , by Javier Maxwell.
Stepping towards the glass doors, he peered out to see a flier drop towards the courtyard outside. Fear clutched at his heart, but then he took a deep breath, pressing trembling fingers
against the pages, desperate to record one last message . . .
‘Winchell,’ he muttered under his breath. ‘I was wrong, so very wrong. I see that now.’
Luc gasped, and rocked back onto his haunches, pulling his fingers away from the book and pressing them against his chest as if he had been scalded.
Just for a moment, he had been Sevgeny Vasili.
‘Mr Gabion? Are you all right?’
Luc turned to see Cheng standing halfway between the entrance to the library and the corpse. The rest remained huddled together by the door.
Luc glanced down at Vasili’s body, the book still mostly hidden beneath it. From where he stood, Cheng couldn’t see it.
‘I’m sorry, I guess this is all just a little . . .’ Luc shook his head, struggling to
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