A riot of voices. Wolfe scanned the crowd and pointed a finger. ‘You,’ he said. ‘Step forward, give your name, speak your mind.’

A pretty young girl with glossy red hair and a confident smile moved forward with perfect grace. ‘Anna Brygstrom, sir, from Denmark. Librarians run the daughter libraries, the Serapeum.’

‘Postulant Brygstrom, I did not ask for your nationality. You have no homeland here, because once you enter Library service, it is your nation. We are your countrymen.’ He paused, and there was a cruel glitter in his eyes. ‘If you’ve come all the way here to learn the mundane details of how to create a work schedule and properly fill a patron’s request, then you are in the wrong place. A properly trained marmoset could run a daughter library, since it is merely a mirror of what is concentrated here, in Alexandria. Step back.’

She no longer had a smile, confident or otherwise, as she disappeared back into the circle.

Someone else stepped forward to take her place, and Jess recognised in the next second that it was the Arab girl, Khalila.

‘Postulant Khalila Seif, sir. We are not here to learn how to run a daughter library. We are here to learn how the Great Library itself runs.’

Wolfe stared at her for a long few seconds, then nodded sharply. ‘Correct. Step back, Postulant Seif. On the highest possible level, the Library exists because each nation of the world benefits from it, and because the Library favours none, relies on none. It took time to free ourselves from the tyranny of politics, kings and priests; it took time to assemble the wealth and the force to defend what we have. But most of all, it took a miracle. And what was that miracle?’

Jess took a chance and stepped forward. ‘Jess – Postulant Jess Brightwell, sir. The discovery of mirroring.’ He kept it short and to the point; it was Scholar Wolfe’s job to lecture, and if he tried, he could tell it would only lead to a bloody scar on him. At Wolfe’s precise nod, he moved back again.

‘In 1029, the Serapeum of Rayy in Persia was utterly destroyed, with the devastating loss of more than fifty thousand original works. It was an orgy of looting and fire that destroyed thousands of years of knowledge. We credit the four hundred and second leader of the Great Library, Archivist Magister Akkadevi, with the discovery of mirroring, by which the contents of any book, any scroll, any document may be written into a similarly treated Library blank. The benefit of mirroring? You.’ Wolfe didn’t wait for volunteers. He picked someone out of the circle.

‘Postulant Glain Wathen, sir. It freed the Library from risking original books and scrolls. It doesn’t matter if a blank is damaged or lost, it can always be requested again.’

‘Correct. The destruction of Rayy taught us that calculated politics and unthinking rage – make no mistake, the two are sometimes hand in hand – are the greatest threats knowledge can face. The Doctrine of Mirroring was the first great advance of the Library, the foundation on which all others were built. It ensures protection of knowledge while also giving free access to all, and this was an unquestioned good. But what followed?’

No one stepped forward this time for a moment, and Wolfe didn’t point. He waited. Finally, Thomas stepped forward from his spot beside Jess and cleared his throat. ‘Postulant Thomas Schreiber, sir. The next doctrine issued was the Doctrine of Ownership.’

‘The Doctrine of Ownership states that the Great Library must, for the protection and preservation of knowledge in trust for the world, own all such knowledge. Which means what, Postulant Schreiber?’

‘It’s illegal to own an original,’ he said. ‘Sir.’

‘Illegal,’ Wolfe repeated. ‘And do you agree with this doctrine, Postulant Brightwell?’

Jess flinched, because he hadn’t expected that, not at all. He stepped forward. Thomas didn’t seem to know whether or not he should move back, so it left both of them together, side by side. That made it a little easier.

‘Sir?’

‘I asked your opinion of the doctrine. Do you agree it should be wrong to own original works?’

Of course, Jess knew he ought to say; it was the standard answer. The Library was never wrong. But something made him say, ‘I’m not sure.’

That woke a glint in Wolfe’s eyes. ‘Why not?’

‘I’d like to hold one,’ Jess said, quite honestly. ‘To feel the weight and history of it in my hands. A blank can’t be the same, sir.’

‘No,’ Wolfe agreed. ‘A blank is a poor, pale imitation, though the words are arranged in precisely the same order; it is the difference between an idea and a physical thing. And some crave the physical thing, legal or not. Which is why there are such things as shadow markets, and the black trade, and ink-lickers.’

Jess went cold inside, because he felt – perhaps wrongly – that it was a very personal message to him, from Wolfe, that there was no hiding who he was, or where he’d come from.

Wolfe motioned for the two of them to step back, which was a deep relief. He paced around the circle, meeting the eyes of every student.

‘While the Doctrine of Ownership is logical, it led to our current age of unrest. At first, it was merely sentimentality that led people to conceal books in their homes; perhaps it had been an ancestor’s gift, or a favourite and well-loved volume. But then profit entered into it; in the early days, whole caravans of books were stolen. Even today, when new discoveries of original documents come to light, it becomes a race between criminals and the Library to own them. Once something enters the black trade, it may disappear for ever – damaged, lost, greedily hoarded. And that robs all mankind of something precious.’

‘What about the Burners?’ said a soft voice.

‘Step forward, postulant.’

A slender young woman with sleek black hair and the delicate features of Japan moved out from the group and bowed her head slightly to Scholar Wolfe. ‘Izumi Himura. Do not the Burners present a greater threat than the smugglers, sir?’

‘Explain your reasoning.’

‘Smugglers would wish to preserve originals; it is their trade. To Burners, it is a political statement, because they wish to break the Library’s hold on originals.’

‘Inadequate analysis, Himura. You must go deeper to understand the real source of the Burner movement. But I will not ask any of you to probe that wound today. Congratulations, postulants. Not a terrible showing for your first lesson.’

Jess heard a collective sigh of relief. He felt one rush out of him as well; being fixed by Wolfe’s dagger eyes felt like being pinned up for dissection.

The class began to shuffle towards the single exit, but that exodus quickly halted, because the High Garda soldier was blocking the way, arms folded.

Wolfe’s voice had a dark amusement in it when he said, ‘Did I tell you to leave? Never assume you are dismissed until I tell you that you are. You’ll remain here until you work out the problem I have left for you. I warn you, there is a time limit. You’d do well to spot the danger quickly. Try to work together.’

Wolfe cut through them like a knife, and he and the High Garda soldier walked down the hall and out.

‘What are we supposed to do?’ The redhead, Anna, sounded annoyed. ‘He didn’t tell us what to do!’

Jess looked around, and found it was still the same featureless, unremarkable room as before. No other exits, besides the one. No windows.

‘What does he mean, danger?’ Dario asked. ‘There’s nothing here. It’s an empty room.’

Jess hated to admit it, but it seemed that Dario was right. The class spread out, pushing on walls; Glain touched the stained surface and frowned as she rubbed her fingertips together. She sniffed them. ‘There’s something odd here,’ she said. ‘Oily. Chemical.’

‘The whole place reeks of it,’ Dario agreed. He came to look at the spot she was examining. ‘You would think if this was sacred space they would keep it in better order. But what kind of danger does that put us in? Ruining our shirts?’