They’d avoided challenges, other ships and mines of all sorts, finally making the journey in ten days. The Sage Jundriance was attended by a couple of burly Prime servants, Nuern and Livilido, each dressed in fussily ornate and ill-fitting academic robes. They were sufficiently senior to have servants of their own; a half-dozen highly reticent Adults who looked like identical sextuplets. They were big on scurrying but almost autistically shy.

The senior of the two elder servants, Nuern — a mouean to Livilido’s one-rank-more-junior suhrl — had welcomed them, allocated rooms and informed them that his master was engaged in the task of cataloguing the remaining works in the libraries — as Y’sul had warned, a significant proportion of the contents had been given away since Valseir’s accident. Probably only the remoteness of the house had prevented more scholars showing up to pick over the remains. Jundriance was, however, in slow-time, so if they wanted to speak to him they would have to slow to his thought-pace. Fassin and the colonel had agreed. Y’sul had announced he was having none of this and took the Poaflias on a cruise to explore the local volume and see what there might be to hunt.

“Your duty should be to wait for us,” the colonel had informed him.

“Duty?” Y’sul had said, as though hearing the word for the first time.

They had a half-day or so, at least, while Jundriance was informed by a message on his read-screen that he had visitors. If he would see them immediately, they could go in before dark. Otherwise it could be some long time…

“Colonel,” Fassin had said, “we will have to go into slowdown for some time. Y’sul might be as well amusing himself nearby -’ Fassin had turned to look at Y’sul to emphasise the word “- as mooching about this place for who knows how long.”

· He’ll get into trouble.

· Probably. So, better trouble close to home, or trouble further away?

Hatherence had made a rumbling noise and had told Y’sul, “There is a war on.”

“I’ve checked the nets!” Y’sul had protested. “It’s kilo-klicks away!”

“Really?” Nuern had said, perking. “Has it started? The master doesn’t allow connections in the house. We hear nothing.”

“Began a dozen days ago,” Y’sul had told the servant. “We’ve been in the thick of it already. Barely avoided a smart mine on the way here. My servant got himself injured, may die.”

“A smart mine? Near here?”

“You are right to be concerned, my friend,” Y’sul had said solemnly. “The presence of such ordnance hereabouts is another — the real — reason why I’ll take my ship on patrol around you.”

“And your servant, injured. How terrible.”

“I know. War is. Other than that, elsewhere in the hostilities, barely a spineful of deaths so far. Couple of Dreadnoughts crippled on each side. Far too early to tell who’s winning. I’ll keep a fringe cocked, let you know what’s happening.”

“Thank you.”

“Not at all.”

· You’re right, Hatherence had signal-whispered to Fassin as this exchange was taking place. — Let’s just let him go.

· You can signal the ship from your esuit while still in slowdown?

— Yes.

— Okay.

“You will stay nearby?” Fassin had asked Y’sul. “You won’t let the Poaflias venture too far out?”

“Of course! I swear! And I shall ask our two fine fellows here to extend you every courtesy on my behalf!”

They were to be seen at once. Nuern had shown them into one of the outer library pods. The library had a roof of diamond leaf looking directly upwards into the vermilion-dark sky. Jundriance was settled into a dent-desk near the centre of the near-spherical room, facing a read-screen. Around him, the walls were lined with shelves, some so widely spaced that they might have doubled as bunk space for humans, others so small that a child’s finger might have struggled to fit. Mostly these held books, of some sort. Spindle-secured carousels tensioned between the walls and between the floor and a network of struts above held hundreds of other types of storage devices and systems: swave crystals, holoshard, picospool and a dozen more obscure.

They’d joined Jundriance at his desk, floating through the thick atmosphere to his side. Nuern had swung dent-seats into place and they’d both clamped onto one, Hatherence positioning herself with Fassin between her and the Sage. Jundriance, of course, gave no sign of having noticed them.

They’d slowed. It had been much easier for Fassin than for Hatherence. He’d been doing this for centuries; she’d been trained in the technique but had never attempted it for real. The experience would be a jerky, shaky journey for her, at least until they smoothed out at the Sage’s pace.

The day darkened quickly, then the night seemed to last less than an hour. Fassin concentrated on his own smooth slowdown, but was aware of the colonel seeming to wriggle and shift in her dent-seat. The Sage Jundriance appeared to stir. By the next quick morning, something actually changed on his reading screen; another page. That day passed quickly, then the next night went quicker still. The process continued until they were down to a factor of about one-in-sixty-four, which was what they had been told Jundriance had come up to meet them at -he’d been even slower until their arrival.

They were about halfway there when a signal-whisper had pinged into the little gascraft. — You receiving this all right, major?

· Yes. Why?

· I just interrogated the screen reader. It was working in realtime until the Poaflias arrived.

· You sure?

· Perfectly.

· Interesting.

Finally they were there, synchronised to the same life-pace as the Sage. The short days became a slow, slow flicker above them, the orange-purple sky beyond the diamond leaf alternately lightening and dimming. Even at this pace, the great tall veils of gas seemed to hang above them in the sky, unmoving. Fassin had experienced the feeling he always got when he first went into slowdown during a delve, the disquieting sensation that he was a lost soul, the feeling of being in a strange sort of prison, trapped in time inside while life went on at a quicker pace outside, above, beyond.

Jundriance had turned off his read-screen and greeted them. Fassin had asked about Valseir but somehow they’d got onto the subject of life-pace itself.

“One feels sorry for the Quick, I suppose,” the Sage said. “They seem ill-suited to the universe, in a way. The distances between the stars, the time it takes to travel from one to another… Even more so, of course, if one is thinking of travelling between galaxies.”

A hole in the conversation. “Of course.” Fassin said, to fill it. Are you fishing for something, old one? he thought.

“The machines. They were much worse, of course. How unbearable, to live so quickly.”

“Well, they mostly don’t live at all now, Sage,” Fassin told him.

“That is as well, perhaps.”

“Sage, can you tell us any more about Valseir’s death?”

“I was not there. I know no more than you.”

“You were… quite close to him?” Fassin asked.

“Close? No. No, I would not say so. We had corresponded on matters of textual verification and provenance, and debated at a remove on various questions of scholarship and interpretation, though not regularly. We never met. I would not say that that constituted closeness, would you?”

“I suppose not. I just wondered what drew you here, that’s all.”

“Oh, the chance to look through his library. To take what I might for myself. That is what drew me. His servants took some material before they left, others — mostly scholars or those who chose to call themselves such — came and took what they wanted, but there is still much here, and while the most obvious treasures are gone, much of value may remain. It would be derelict to ignore.”

“I see. And what of Valseir’s libraries? I understand you are continuing to catalogue them?”