Part 40 (1/2)

'Tell me what?'

'I didn't get the Amis part,' began Randolph, 'but I've been short-listed for a minor speaking appearance in the next Wolfe.'

'That's excellent news!' I responded happily. 'When?'

'Some time in the next couple of years. I'm going to do some stand-in work until then; the C of G has opened up travel writing as holiday destinations for Generics. No more awayday breaks in Ba.r.s.ets.h.i.+re I'm to cover for Count Smorltork while he goes on holiday for two weeks in Wainwright's A Pictorial A Pictorial Guide to the Lakeland Fells Guide to the Lakeland Fells.'

'Congratulations.'

He thanked me but was still somehow distant. He stared out of the porthole at the lake, deep in thought.

'What about you?' asked Arnie. 'What will you do? Your demotion is all over the Well!'

'It's not a demotion,' I said. 'Well, perhaps it is.'

'Word is that Harris Tweed is up to be the next Bellman,' murmured Arnie. 'Despite his lack of experience, Jurisfiction favours an Outlander.'

'What's so special about Outlanders?' asked Randolph.

'We have skills that few Generics possess.'

'Such as?'

I picked up the leather-bound UltraWord copy of The Little Prince The Little Prince that had been lying on the table and gave it to Arnie. that had been lying on the table and gave it to Arnie.

'Smell anything?'

He held it to his nose and shook his head. I took the book and sniffed at it delicately; I had expected the odour of leather but instead I could smell sweet melons cantaloupes. I was transported back to the last time I had come across this particular scent; the odd and boxy truck in Caversham Heights Caversham Heights. The truck without texture, the automaton driver without personality. Something clicked.

'It was an UltraWord truck,' I murmured, searching through my bag for the angular and textureless bolt I had picked up after the truck had departed. I found it and sniffed at it cautiously, my mind racing as I tried to think of a connection.

'If this is anything to go by,' said Arnie, flicking through the pages of The Little Prince The Little Prince, 'then the readers are in for a treat.'

'They are indeed,' I replied as Randolph tried to open the cover but couldn't.

I took it from him and the book opened easily. I handed it back but the cover was still stuck fast.

'Odd,' I said as Arnie took the book and opened it once again without any problem. 'It's Havisham's copy,'

I added slowly. 'She's read it, and me, and now you.'

'A book which only three people can read!' said Randolph scornfully. 'A bit mean, I must say!'

'Only three readers,' I murmured, my heart going cold as I recalled the three witches' prophecy: Thrice is Thrice is once and thrice is twice and thrice again once and thrice is twice and thrice again- Perhaps the new operating system was not quite the egalitarian advance it claimed if it was really the case that UltraWord books could only be opened three times then libraries would be a thing of the past. And the angular truck, the strange bolt? What did all that mean? I s.h.i.+vered. If something was so wrong with the new system that they would kill to keep it quiet, then the 'thrice read' rule was just the beginning. The orders for my transfer had come from Text Grand Central via the Bellman's clipboard. Perhaps I was being removed for a reason who other than the grieving apprentice to ask awkward questions? If so, Havisham's accident had been nothing of the sort.

'Problems?' asked Arnie, sensing my disquiet.

'Could be. Miss Havisham was sure there was something wrong with UltraWord. I think Perkins found out and so did Snell.'

'Did they actually say so?' asked Randolph, who had obviously been studying law as part of his upcoming Wolfe bit-part. 'Without any evidence this will be hard to prove.'

'Perkins and Havisham told me nothing and all I got from Snell was gobbledegook on his deathbed. He may have told me everything but it was so badly spelled I didn't understand a word.'

'What did he say?'

'He said: ”Thirsty! Wode Cone, udder whirled doughnut Trieste-!” or something quite like it.'

Arnie exchanged looks with Randolph.

'The ”Thirsty” must be ”Thursday”,' murmured Randolph.

'I figured that,' I returned, 'but what about the rest?'

'Do you suppose,' said Randolph thoughtfully, 'that if you were to recite those words near a source of mispeling they would revert back again?'

There was one of those long pauses that always accompany an epiphanic moment.

'It's worth a try,' I replied, thinking hard. Where would I find some mispeling vyrus without anyone asking questions?

I got up, checked the clip of my automatic and opened my TravelBook.

'Where are you going?' asked Arnie.

'To visit the Anti-mispeling Fast Response Group on the seventeenth floor. I think they might be able to help.'

'Will they want to?'

I shrugged.

'Irrelevant. Asking wasn't part of my plan.'

The elevator doors opened on the seventeenth floor. This held all the books whose authors began with Q, and since there weren't that many of them, the remainder of the s.p.a.ce had been given over to the Jurisfiction Anti-mispeling Fast Response Group if there was any live mispeling vyrus at Jurisfiction, this would be the place to find it.

This floor of the Great Library was more dimly lit than the others, and the rows of bunk beds containing the numerous DanverClones began soon after the Quiller-Couch novels ended. The Danvers were all sitting bolt upright, their eyes following me silently as I walked slowly down the corridor. It was disquieting to be sure, but I could think of no other place to look.

I reached the central core of the Library, a circular void surrounded by a wrought-iron rail at the centre of the four corridors. The way I had come was all Danvers, and so were two of the others. The fourth corridor was lined with packing cases of dictionaries, and beyond them was the medical area in which I had last seen Snell. I approached, my feet making no noise on the padded carpet. Perhaps Snell had known as much as Perkins? They were partners, after all. I cursed myself for not thinking of this before but felt slightly better knowing that Havisham hadn't thought of it either.

I arrived at the small medical unit that was ready and waiting to deal with any infected person, with its s.h.i.+elded curtains and bandages over-printed with dictionary entries. They could soothe and contain but rarely cure Snell was doomed as soon as he was soaked in the vyrus and he knew it.

I opened a few drawers here and there but found nothing. Then I noticed a large pile of dictionaries stacked by themselves in a roped-off area. I walked up to them, repeating the word ambidextrous ambidextrous as I did so. as I did so.

'Ambidextrous ... ambidextrous ... ambidextrous ... ambidextruos.'

Bingo. I'd found it.

'Miss Next?' said a voice. 'What in heaven's name are you doing here?'

I nearly jumped out of my skin. If it had been Libris I would have been worried; but it wasn't it was Harris Tweed.

'You nearly scared me half to death!' I told him.