In his office, the Innkeeper and four of his managers were handling routine administration details: Security, supplies, repairs, and reservations.

Zuri, security, in a very few well chosen words, reported on a brawl in the lower tavern and other matters. Chaldun, repairs and maintenance, commented on the breakage. Egil, the restaurant and bar manager, reported on the state of the pantry. Yerodin, the reservations manager, wanted some clarification on the clansmen.

"A meeting room?" the Innkeeper asked.

"And a computer center and a library," Yerodin said.

"What are they up to?" Egil wondered.

"All their activities so far have been permitted," the Innkeeper said.

"Chasen," Zuri said, meaning that Chasen was still watching the clansmen with computers.

The Innkeeper nodded.

"They want buffet service," Egil said. "Coffee, small foods and a full bar."

Zuri asked: "Where?"

"That’s the problem," Yerodin said. "The most convenient rooms are reserved next week. A coven."

"Private floor?" Zuri asked.

"That would keep Chasen away," the Innkeeper agreed. "All right, create a café-bar for Ethan and his clansmen along with all the rest, and set the elevators to skip those two floors for everyone except them. Yerodin, do you have a contact spell for the coven?"

"Yes."

"Call and find out what they’re planning, what they’ll need. If we have to move them to the ballroom, do it. What’s next?"

"Chasen," Zuri said again, meaning something else about Chasen.

"Yes?"

"He’s contacting Mekonnen on that private mirror."

Yerodin and Egil glanced at the security chief. A complete sentence from Zuri was a rarity.

"Has Mekonnen manifested?" the Innkeeper asked.

"No."

"Everyone still keeps an eye on Chasen," the Innkeeper said.

Chaldun and the others nodded.

"What’s next?"

In a meeting room next to a full café-bar, Lorant, Maks and Nansen, wearing spiral-sewn leggings and angarkas in fine muslin, sat at one end of a large table facing the priests, Produs, Ranon and Stap, who wore their red and green togas. The four young men with laptops, who were called Guiscard, Hilarion, Imbert and Jere, wearing long pleated kalisari, sat facing each other down the sides.

Maks began: "Much of what Ethan said is to the point. We are starting later than some others, but there are many of us, we are specialized and we are organized, which is to our advantage. We are also in the right place at the right time to employ human technology in our efforts."

"So what are we here for?" Guiscard asked.

"There are forty-one pieces of the Cosmic Egg," Maks said. "We need to collect them."

"Therefore," Nansen said, "we need to know their current form and their general location."

"And once we have them," Ranon the priest said, "we must perform the rituals."

"You four," Lorant nodded at the men with laptops, "have a task with two parts: Search accumulated human knowledge, using your computers, for descriptions of the pieces and of the ritual we must follow to turn the Wheel and remake the world."

"We," Nansen said, "will be doing the same thing, with different tools."

"As will we," Stap said.

"With three modes of attack," Maks said, "we will efficiently and quickly acquire the knowledge we need to advance our task."

"You guys want hardcopy?" Hilarion asked.

"Yes. If you cannot obtain real books or scrolls, we will accept printout," Nansen said.

"What about you guys?" Guiscard asked the priests.

"We agree with the librarians," Stap said. "We prefer real books, but we can deal with computers."

"We’ll need really good computers, lots of storage, wireless LAN, fastest internet access possible, full color laser printers, decoding spells, access code generators and game cubes, uh, recreational devices, for everybody."

"You’ll have what you need. The Innkeeper has a purchasing agent who’s waiting to talk to you and also someone called ‘tech support.’ The large room next door is available, and you can arrange it how you please."

Chasen was regretting accepting this hire. He was working solo and to even attempt an adequate job he needed at least two leg men. If his employer wanted all forty-one clansmen watched, he needed a minimum of 120 watchers and there was no chance in hell that the Innkeeper wouldn’t notice that. With that in mind, he waited until the computer geeks were safely in the private elevator, before he took another one up to the roof.

Selecting a table some distance from the serving area, he ordered fruit, yogurt and a local newspaper. As the waiter left, he cast a privacy spell. With that securely in place, he took a small mirror from his jacket pocket and spoke the activation phrase.

The mirror clouded, then cleared, showing Mekonnen’s face against a carefully neutral background.

"Thank you for taking my call."

"What do you have to report?"

"You’re paying me, but I don’t think you’re getting your money’s worth. The big guy is working out in the gym, some of the others are off to the Brothel, and the geeks—the ones with the computers—disappeared into their private floor. They’ve been doing this on a regular basis for the last ten days. If they repeat their established pattern, they won’t surface again for another 36 hours."

"Did you follow the group to 22^nd Street?" his employer asked gently.

Chasen was relieved he was able to say: "No, they invited the geeks to accompany them, which is how I know where they went."

"Keep your attention on the young men around the computers. The man with the book may call on them or they may go to him. I want that book."

"It might be simpler if I went directly after the man with the book," Chasen suggested.

"If I knew who had the book, I would not need your help. My haruspex is seeking a solution to that question, but he lacks the proper supplies at the moment. Follow the computer-guided young men. We know that at some point, they will come into close contact with the book."

"Yes, patron."

"And I don’t use a computer search because computers don’t work reliably in this world."

"I would not venture to ask."

"But you were wondering."

"Yes, patron, I admit I was."

"Don’t."

"No, patron."

Bright light flashed, then the mirror faded to black. Chasen sighed and slipped it into his coat pocket. Not for the first time, he wondered if he was going to complete this hire alive. If Mekonnen stayed in the other world, he might. And Mekonnen was more likely to stay away if he managed to find the book and get it to Mekonnen.

"So what’s this?" Hilarion asked. He sent Jere a quick message: H>J: L is loading me with new stuff. L

J>H TS. UR handler/new stuff. I got Denmark, Finland, Iceland, Norway and Sweden. DS³.

"As you can see, it’s another list," Lorant said. "A bibliography from Structure and Meaning Contrasted and Compared in a Selection of Philosophical Curiosities, a doctoral thesis by Terrence Blunt. I think #4, The Inner Treasures of the Prime Star Lords, is promising, but track down anything you can."

"OK," Hilarion said. He accessed the combined index of the Ancient Text Society. Inner Treasures was in the Harvard-Yenching Library, which had excellent security. Fortunately, it also had an excellent reproduction service. He ordered a copy, and went on the next entry, # 5: The Lissus Harmony.

Eight hours later, he entered names of everything he had looked at, everything he had looked at and ordered and everything he had looked at and not ordered, with his name, the date, and the list source key into the simple data base they were using, and went next door to the private café-bar.

Methodical as always, the computer faction had moved from straight liquor, tasted in alphabetical order, straight and with ice, water, and soda, to mixed drinks, tasted in alphabetical order within categories. Hilarion was up to ‘Bolero,’ in the Rum sub-set of the Cocktail section.

He had moved along to a ‘Borinquen’ and was debating eating the gardenia garnish when Maks came in, brandishing a sheaf of hardcopy.

"Is Nansen here?"

"No. Why?" But Maks turned and started to walk out. At the door, he stopped and backed up as Nansen and Lorant came in.

"Ha! There you are. Read this!" Maks said to Nansen, passing over a small pamphlet.

Hilarion moved from the bar to a table near the three librarians.

"So?" Nansen demanded, looking at the title. "I saw this. It’s an abridgment, not that helpful."

"This part," Maks said impatiently, leafing through the pages. "Read the description here, half-way down the page."

"‘The Relic of Abidoun is a translation from Gnodipian into Kagwas of the Ceremony of the Beginning.’ Yeah, that would be helpful, but this thing’s title says it all: Extracts from A History of Apocryphal Texts. The book does not exist," Nansen said.

"Next page," Maks directed.

"‘The Relic of Abidoun is also called The Scroll of Orpmal, after its translator.’ Again, so?" asked Nansen.

"And this." Maks handed Nansen a piece of paper. Nansen handed Lorant the pamphlet.

"The University of Lima has purchased a copy of The Scroll of Orpmal?"

"Its existence is not all that apocryphal," Maks said.

"Interesting," Lorant said. He’d been reading the pamphlet. "By an eyewitness."

"That’s not possible," Nansen said.

"What are we discussing?" Ranon the priest asked, coming in.

"It is possible," Maks insisted.

"Not on Earth."

"No, of course not. The book was written on Gnodip," Maks said.

"What book?" Ranon asked. Nansen handed him the pamphlet.

"Two points: Other places have other laws. The Gnodipian Firsts may not be sworn to secrecy, the way the Firsts on Earth were," said Maks.

"Possible," Lorant allowed.

Nansen nodded. "Gnodip is many gates away. The time flow out there is way different, so it’s not impossible that their own Firsts, assuming that they have more than one, were still there when the original book was written."

Ranon read from the pamphlet: "‘Ghling, one of the First, told me, Aoital the Scribe, to write this history.’ According to this, that’s the opening line of the Scroll. It doesn’t say Ghling wrote it or that Aoital was there at the beginning. The scroll may be real, in that it exists, but it also may be apocryphal in the sense that it’s fiction."

"Or at least uncanonical," Nansen said. He turned to Lorant. What do you think?"

"What about this, the History of Apocryphal Texts?" Lorant asked.

"What about it?"

"What’s its provenance?"

"Oh, that’s very well established. Madalveus wrote it in Alvish, about a millennium or so ago. It got translated into Urdu back in 1400 something, this calendar. One of the earliest English settlers in India put it into English about four hundred years ago. It was in the original catalogue of the Ancient Text Society, when it was established, back in 1658," Maks said. "This is just the good parts edition, a teaser. There’s a lot more in the unabridged version."

"What’s that second piece of paper?" Nansen asked.

"Part of the catalogue of the University library," Maks said. "The Relic, or the Scroll, is in Lima."

"And how did it get to Peru?"

"Concatenation," Maks offered. "Confluence. Whatever you call it, it’s an established quality of the pieces of the Egg, people interested in the Egg, and writings about the Egg. It moved, somehow, from Gnopid to Kagwas, and from Kagwas to Earth, and ended up in Lima. What I’m saying is, let’s get this and look at it. At the very least, it’s an interesting work."

"I agree with Maks," Ranon said.

"All right," Lorant said. He turned to Hilarion, nibbling his gardenia. "Track both of them down, the Relic and a full text of the History. We’ll want to see them."

"Imbert is working the South American venue."

"You work the secondary search," Lorant insisted. "Items that arise from the primary investigation. Find out all about the Relic and the History: where they are, their individual provenance, and can we buy or copy them."

***

Eventually, Hilarion sought out Maks, running him down in the café-bar. Maks was surrounded by stacked coffee cups and printout. Hilarion cleared off a space and sat. Maks looked up.

"So what’s the problem?" Maks asked.

"Well, I’ve got good news and bad news."

"Good news, please."
"The University of Lima has the Relic—"

"Which we knew."
"—and the unabridged History, which we didn’t know. You were right about the concatenation bit. It’s happening more frequently now than it was 500 years ago."

"Fine," Maks said. "We’ll make a deal for both. How’d they get the History?"

"The Ancient Text Society sold it to the Santra Library, but on the way there it was hijacked. That was back in 1920, and the next thing we know it was in Lima in 1977. There’s a large file of letters from all three institutions about who actually owns it, with many acerbic comments from Lloyd somebody, who had insured it during transit."

"Well, we’ll settle for a copy of it."

"There’s more. What with that complication, I did a universal search of the school’s system and the civic computer system down there, on both titles, and it turned out, the Lima police department have a report of the theft."

"Of the History?"

"Yes, and of the Relic, too. That’s the bad news," Hilarion said. "They’ve both been stolen. Again."

"Ah. Show me."

Hilarion flipped open his laptop and started keying.

"Is there any evidence Santra Library stole the scrolls back?"

"No," Hilarion said.

"Lloyds?"

"No."

"What do the police think?"

"That it was an inside job."

"Try this: sort according to date, and cull out everything earlier than thirty years ago."

"OK."

"Cull everything from the Ancient Text Society, Santra Library, Lloyds, and the local police."

"OK."

"Cull everything that doesn’t mention either title."

"OK."

"What’s left?"

"The library catalogue, the complete files of the school newspaper, and complete files of the alternate newspaper—apparently because they each mention the latest theft—some fund raising literature, blah, blah, and this mess."

Maks took a quick skim through the first few messages of the e-mail file. "Huh."

"I don’t know why the search included this," Hilarion said, "there’s no mention of either book. It seems to be a personal correspondence between a librarian and an exchange student, mostly about religion."

"Who are they?"

"Francisco Naoko Guzman, an assistant librarian in Lima and Dyami Chandrapanthi, who says he’s a Reverend Professor at some university in California."

"Aren’t we in California?" Maks asked.

"Technically, yes. I still say we should be back home."

"Well, I was never there, and while I haven’t gone out that much, I like California, what I’ve seen of it, just fine. Is a Reverend Professor like a priest?"

"Maybe," Hilarion allowed.

"‘Acquire the objects and deliver them to us and your salvation is assured.’"

"What’s salvation mean in this context?"

"Some human religious idea, I think. You know how weird they can get on that subject. ‘If only one object is obtainable, item A will be of more help to us in the coming battle; therefore, obtain item A first and do not endanger yourself to also obtain item B after you have it. Try for item B only if you are totally safe.’ Huh," Maks said again. "Let me try something."

"Careful," Hilarion said.

"Relax." Maks typed briefly. The screen blanked, then steadied.

"What’d you do?"

"Apocalypse."

"What?"

"Decoded it, I hope. Right, here we go: ‘…the Scroll of Orpmal/Relic of Abidoun will be of more help…’ Item A and item B—item A is the Relic, aka the Scroll, and item B is the History. This man is suborning this other man to steal the books and take them somewhere."

"But he’s a librarian," Hilarion said.

"No profession is entirely perfect," Maks said.

"I tried deciphering this," Hilarion said. "Nothing worked."

"It wasn’t ciphered, it was in code, an actual code, nothing to do with computers and a lot to do with information and communication. The problem with codes is that they must maintain some connection somewhere with reality, even if it’s only in the writer’s and the reader’s heads. In this case, considering how easy the decode was, I think somewhere there’s a code book with a list of code words and their meanings; more likely two code books. The ‘Apocalypse Spell,’ the spell of revelation, re-establishes that direct connection and writes the messages en clair, so we can read them."

"So what’s it say now?" Hilarion asked.

"Well, that’s certainly interesting."

"How much money are they talking about?" Hilarion asked.

Maks frowned at the screen then typed briefly. "Converting from one human currency to another is easy. I just don’t know what ‘one hundred thousand pesos’ is in real money."

"So where is this San Jose place?"

"Check your atlas," Maks said. "I want to brief one of the priests."

"Why?"

"All the stuff about religion," Maks explained. "He may see something there that we’re missing, and besides, they’re better at talking to Ethan."

Maks explained the situation to the priest, concluding: "According to the latest e-mail, Señor Guzman will meet Dyami Chandrapanthi, who is a Reverend Professor at the Anglo-Sanskrit Theological University—"

"The what?" Ranon the priest asked.

"It’s some sort of religious school, in Vallejo, north of here. Anyway, Guzman and Chandrapanthi will meet in a motel room in San Jose, which is south of here, the day after tomorrow, after Guzman, with both books, flies up from Lima, Peru."

"I will explain to Ethan," Ranon agreed.

***

"Ah, Ethan," Ranon the priest said. "We have something we want to talk to you about."

"Make it fast, I’m on my way to the gym."

Ranon, with help from Maks and Hilarion, finished the presentation and waited for Ethan’s reaction.

"How much?" Ethan demanded.

"It’s human money," Maks reminded him. "It doesn’t matter."

"For books?"

"Books of directions, in a way," Hilarion said.

"About what?"

"Why we’re here? Our hero task, remember?" Ranon hinted.

"The Egg?"

"The Egg," Hilarion agreed.

"We don’t need directions," Ethan insisted. "We get the forty whatever pieces and uh, …"

"Well, there’s a little bit more," Maks said.

"It’s not just piling everything into a triumph," Ranon said.

"And dancing around it," Hilarion said.

"It’s a matter of timing," Maks said.

"And we need to fine tune the ritual," Ranon said.

"Why you?" Ethan asked.

"The man with the books is a librarian," Maks said. "Not a very good one, I mean he stole from the library, but we think he’ll be more receptive to us, not to the hunter-types. We talk the same language."

"OK. And you need a car? Why?" Ethan asked.

"The books are in San Jose," Maks said again.

"Where’s that?"

"About an hour and a half south of here."

"I’ve seen book stores around here, in the City, I mean."

"The books we need are coming in on an airplane," Hilarion said.

"To the San Jose airport," Maks said.

"How do you know that?" Ethan asked.

Maks opened his mouth, then shut it and looked over at Hilarion.

Hilarion considered explaining the Net, e-mail, fire walls, electronic snooping, and the entire concept of hacking. He gave up. "We looked them up on our computers," he said.

"OK," Ethan said. "Get the books, have somebody read them. And remember, if I’m going to dance, I need at least an hour to practice."

"We’ll remember."

Continue with Chapter 2d