Ulryk, as resilient as a boar, pushed himself up from the flat roof and rubbed his scalp. ‘Indeed, I believe I am.’ He instinctively checked his satchel, which contained the books.
From their position they could see more of the city, and the Astronomer’s Glass Tower, which stood a few hundred yards away. In between them and the structure, the civil war on the streets of Villjamur was reaching something of a stand-off. Imperial troops had garrisoned themselves in one of the major taverns, extending a makeshift barricade of assorted city detritus, blocking off the route. Behind it, about a hundred soldiers were poised with crossbows, waiting for any anarchist surge.
The anarchists were less well organized and were hiding in buildings a few streets further along: she could see snipers leaning out of windows, waiting to fire at any passing military patrols.
Tension hung thickly in the air. After the initial set-tos, no one wanted to commit to a manoeuvre. The Empire soldiers were outnumbered, that was obvious, but the anarchists were not able to get the better of the highly trained men and women.
All of this lay between Lan and Ulryk and the glass tower.
‘Are you sure you can’t do the ritual here?’ Lan asked.
‘I suppose,’ Ulryk breathed, ‘I can try.’ He rubbed his hands and reached into his satchel to withdraw the books. He walked to the centre of the roof and carefully sat down. There, he opened the books on various pages.
Lan strolled over to see what he planned. ‘Are the books the same?’
Ulryk shook his head. ‘They differ, many of the sketches and occasional tracts of script are dissimilar – deliberately so.’
He showed her two drawings of the same castle, which to her appeared to be identical. But he pointed out that figures were standing in the window of one drawing, and not the other. Ulryk suggested it was the equivalent of a prison. On another open page, there were different drawings entirely: one showed a small animal she’d never seen, another of a plant. ‘This tract of text,’ he explained, pointing to one edition, ‘discusses the history of the islands and how they came to be. The other, well… this is a panicked note explaining that the Jorsalir were attempting to have these works destroyed.’
‘Why would the editions differ?’
‘In case one got lost or destroyed. In one there are codes to explain what happened – a letter to a future generation.’
‘That’s some forward thinking,’ Lan said.
‘I am ready to attempt the summoning,’ Ulryk announced.
Lan moved away, watching him rearrange the books before him. Ulryk brought out his own journal and began flicking through it until he discovered the correct page of notes. Cross-legged, hunching over the books, he closed his eyes.
Lan turned away to watch the streets again. Long shadows clawed their way over the city; sides of buildings were shrouded in darkness. Above, the clouds were clearing and she could see the red sun approaching the horizon. It was going to be a cold night.
Ulryk seemed to be in a trance now. His fingers were pressed down on certain pages but his eyes were closed, his head tilted up towards the heavens as if seeking extra help from above. He chanted things in tongues that didn’t sound natural, let alone from the Archipelago.
The most important thing to note was that nothing happened. Eventually Ulryk looked up, not exactly disappointed. He gathered the books into the satchel and stood up.
Lan walked across the roof towards him. ‘The Astronomer’s Tower?’
Ulryk nodded, with an air of serenity about him.