Ullmann took the map, turned it this way and that, then folded it into quarters. "Very useful, I'm sure, Master Wess. Thank you."
"Are you ready, Master Vulfar?" asked Sophia.
"More or less, my lady. We have our barge polls and our cargo, Master Ullmann and his gang. All that remains is to gather my crew and we can cast off."
"Then gather away, bargemaster." She thanked Ohlhauser for his assistance in taking care of the families who'd ended up in his barn, slipping him a purse when she thought no one else was looking, and told the Bavarians that it was up to them from now on. They looked as convinced as Ullmann felt.
He lingered, when everyone else had been released.
"Mistress Morgenstern," he started.
She cut him off. "I'm aware of your concerns, Master Ullmann, but both you and Felix are still obsessed with the lines on the map, and with who lives on which side of them. Do you really think a river or a mountain makes that much difference? Do you think that Mr Ohlhauser is any different from Mr Metz, except for who he pays his taxes to? Do you think that ideas and people see a bridge and refuse to cross over?"
All he could manage was an "I-" before her lips formed a thin line, and a little growl escaped from her throat.
"If you were a Jew, Master Ullmann, you'd realise just how ridiculous that is. We Jews have washed like a tide across this map for millennia: sometimes we stay, sometimes we go. If we've learnt anything in the last two thousand years it's this: the lines mean nothing."
Ullmann gazed at his feet, which only served to enrage Sophia more.
"This is the first time since the magic failed that we can turn a whole situation to our advantage. We don't have to burn Simbach down, and we don't have to occupy it. All we have to do is offer them what we have here. The Bavarians want the same things for themselves and their children as we do." She huffed. "To the boat, Master Ullmann."
They walked side by side across the wide quay, and she softened her voice.
"We can't afford not to share everything we are and own, because if we try to hang on to it with our clenched fists, it'll leak out and we'll be left with nothing. So we're sharing you and the others, our weapons and our money, and, in return, Simbach will become a good place to live and work in again."
She stopped and pinned him in place with her gaze until he had no choice but to back down. He'd had his way concerning the hexmasters, but not here, not now. She was becoming increasingly confident and assertive. It was something he needed to watch carefully.
"I understand, my lady. We'll see Fuchs gone and everything as it should be." He drew back and stalked to the riverside.
The barge was loaded, and the two Bavarians, together with the Carinthian farmer, were waiting on the quayside in one knot of people, Horst and Manfred two of Ullmann's fellow ushers waiting in another. The carts and the servants had gone everyone was waiting for Vulfar.
The bargemaster arrived back with his four crew, each of whom looked so disreputable they could have been dredged from the bottom of the Salzach. If appearances were what counted, the trip down river was going to be both short and eventful.
In all, there were eleven men and a barge full of spears, and Ullmann was responsible for all of it. It wasn't so long ago that he'd been a plain usher, yet it felt like a lifetime away. He glanced at the Jewish woman, who was smiling at Vulfar and even joking with his bargees.
Control, he decided. It was all about control.
"Are we ready now, Master Vulfar?" he called.
"We certainly are, Master Ullmann. Everyone on board, and try not to break anything."
Ullmann looked askance, and Vulfar laughed at him. The other passengers clambered into the hold through the open doors, and Vulfar's crew started to untie the ropes that held the barge fast to the quay, downstream first and working their way up until just one lead wrapped around a cleat held it in place.
"Master Ullmann, please. We've reached the point of no return."
Apart from the biggest bargee, braced with the rope in his huge hands, he was the only one left to board. He stepped across the widening gap, glancing down at the rippling water, and onto the barge-board.
Sophia Morgenstern raised her hand in farewell.
"Carinthia will win this, my lady," said Ullmann.
"If only it were that simple, Master Ullmann. It'll suffice, though, until the next problem needs fixing; all we can do is fix the ones we can see. Go, with HaShem's blessing."
He would rather go with the expectation of this being only the first of many great victories for Carinthia, but a small one would do for now. The bargee unhooked the rope and jumped with it alongside Vulfar, and the other crew set about the barge poles, pressing them against the stone quay and stern of the next boat, steering the bow out into the faster-flowing mid-river.
"It's probably too late to ask," said Ullmann, as he watched the scene unfold, "but have you ever done it like this before?"
"Such little trust, Master Ullmann." Vulfar gauged their progress and adjusted the tiller accordingly. "But since you ask, no. I am, however, certain of two things. First, of my knowledge of the river, and second, of the competence of my crew. Fortunately, your Mistress Morgenstern is paying handsomely for both."
The bow started to slew to the left, and the stern to the right, threatening to turn the barge sideways-on to the river banks. Vulfar dragged the tiller back, and shouted down the length of the barge in a language only the bargees knew. They climbed on top of the hold and lowered their poles over the side.
They pushed, with their faces red and knuckles white, and slowly much slower than Ullmann would have liked the bow came about. They were already downstream of the quay, passing the edge of the town wall.
"You see?" said Vulfar, moustache bristling. "Nothing to it."
Horst leant out of the hold to tug at Ullmann's breeks. "Max? Are you going to tell us now what we're doing on this tub? Or does that stay a secret forever?"
Reluctantly, Ullmann ducked back down and left their erratic progress down the river to Vulfar: there was nothing he could do except scowl, and he'd rather the bargemaster's full attention was on keeping the boat pointing roughly in the right direction.
He reached into his jacket and retrieved the map that Wess had drawn. Unfolding and smoothing it out, he beckoned the Bavarians over to try and explain it.
"This is where we're going, lads. This is Simbach."
67.
"Who's the boy?" Morgenstern murmured without looking up.
Thaler, who was passing, stopped and leant over to inspect the work. He had proven to Morgenstern that objects fall at the same speed, no matter how heavy they are. Consequently, the Jew was deep in his al-Haytham, translating the Persian into Latin. They had discussed whether German would be better, but Latin was widely read and understood among the educated of their part of Europe.
"Oh, some Greek slave my lord Felix rescued. Apparently the Byzantine ambassador called this morning, and didn't receive the answer he wanted."
"So he left a slave behind as a warning?"
"No. He was busy killing the boy in the inner courtyard when Felix and Sophia decided such a spectacle was unseemly." Thaler scanned the library and waved the boy over. He rattled towards them, carrying a tray stacked with bottles and plates.
"Are you letting people eat and drink around the books?" Morgenstern raised his face from the page. "That's a little dangerous."
"It's the workmen," sighed Thaler "I can't stop them leaving their debris all around. At least now I have someone to tidy up behind them."
Morgenstern put down his pen and flexed his fingers. "So he's your slave now?"
"Agathos's status is a little ambiguous, mainly because I can't convince him he's now free. The boy'll get exactly the same treatment as an apprentice would, so the point is moot."
The Greek boy slid his tray onto the table and looked up at Thaler, who frowned back.
"I'm certainly not used to such obedience."
"I'm sure once he realises you won't thrash him to death, he'll become as uncooperative as the rest of the youth of this town." Morgenstern beckoned the child closer and peered at him. "He's a bit bruised. Perhaps you should give him a day or so to recover."
"Light duties, Aaron. We all have to pull our weight, no matter how fast it falls." Thaler smirked and dismissed the boy.
"Yes, very good." Morgenstern retrieved his pen and dipped it. "So what precisely are your duties this morning?"
"Trying to persuade the existing librarians to work with Mistress Tuomanen is one." Thaler sat on the edge of the table and scraped his fingernails across his scalp. "I mean, you don't have any problem with that. She was what she was, and now she is what she is: literate and with nowhere else to go."
"Do you want this book finished any time soon?" Morgenstern put the pen down again. "Very well. No, I don't have a problem with former sorcerers as long as they remember they're as mortal as I am. I can't imagine that they won't have problems with me, but as long as they leave me alone I don't really care. Any tensions they cause are, as you suggest, for you to deal with."
Thaler swung his legs. "You don't like her."
"She works for you, Frederik. My opinion is of little matter." He tutted. "You might set her to sorting out all the arcana that came out of the White Tower. No one else really wants to touch it anyway."
"I'm not so sure about that." The master librarian pulled a face. "We know necromancy works, and I have a feeling it would be a grave mistake to allow her, or anyone trained in the magical arts, to go poring through their order's greatest secrets. At best, she'll become so dispirited she'll leave. At worst, she might rediscover her appetite for ruling us. Homer and Virgil are a better diet for the moment, no? Until things settle down."
"I hadn't thought of that." Morgenstern returned to his book. "This won't translate itself."
"Of course it won't. Can I get you anything? More light? Paper?" Thaler slipped his feet to the floor again, ready to be off.
"Actually, yes." Morgenstern picked up the al-Haytham and flicked back a few pages. "Can you find me some of these? He calls them lenses."
"Lenses?" Thaler took the book from him. "What are they?"
"Sections of a glass sphere. Like a chord of a circle. They keep on coming up again and again, and they seem to have ... properties that might be useful." Morgenstern tightened his lips.
"We've glass spheres from the Order in relative abundance, from small to very large. I'll ask the glassmakers if there's anything they can do with them." Thaler examined the book, trying to interpret the densely packed lines. "If all this is true, al-Haytham was a clever bastard, wasn't he?"
"From what I understand, his king locked him up in a tower for years over some misunderstanding about the Nile." Morgenstern retrieved the book from Thaler's fevered hands. "He had nothing to do but think and write."
"That sounds much as I'm enjoying the challenge of the present days like a librarian's idea of Valhalla." Thaler looked up. "I do wish they'd get on with glazing the oculus. Nothing but hair-brained schemes that'll come crashing down on our heads so far."
"Perhaps when you see that daughter of mine, you could tell her to crack the whip a little harder." Morgenstern set the book open on the desk and found his place again. "Is that offer of an under-librarianship still open?"
Thaler started. "Yes, Aaron. Yes it is."
"It strikes me," said Morgenstern, wiping the dried ink off the nib with his sleeve, "that Sophia is going to become more, not less, involved in the affairs of state. I have no one to look after me. Oh, I'm sure she'd pay someone to keep house, but my work there is done: for better or worse, she's off my hands."
"I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement," said Thaler.
"Can some of the cooks learn the kashrut? It'll need to be done in a separate kitchen. Or I can just get one of the Jewish families to send me meals." He shrugged. "It's not difficult."
"You'd be a welcome addition, Aaron." Thaler patted the man on the shoulder, and left him to his translating. He needed some fresh air.
Stepping out under the portico, he found the square full of piles of building materials, together with the builders who'd brought them. Some of the guildsmen were arguing over scale models of what they wanted to place on top of the library dome. When they spotted him, they hurried towards him, each seeking to have their design judged better than their rivals'. The contract was lucrative, and worth fighting over.
Thaler retreated quickly to the safety of the entrance hall, where, to his relief, Sophia came to his rescue. She shooed the craftsmen away.
"They're right, of course. We have to come to a decision soon," she said.
Thaler allowed himself to be guided back inside.
"But none of their designs are suitable. They're either too heavy or too flimsy: better to have the wind and the rain get in, than for the ceiling to fall in and crush us, or the construction to fail at the first whiff of a storm."
She held up her hand. "There is one design among them that's caught my eye. Why don't we go and have a look?"
"But they're like ravening beasts out there."
"Frederik, I'll be with you, and you need to see this." She turned him around, tucked her ledger under her arm like a shield and, with Thaler sheltering under her wing, she marched him across the square to a group of men sitting next to a small wood-and-glass building. He couldn't remember having seen the building which resembled a giant lantern, tall enough to hold a full-grown man the day before.
As they approached through the bustle, the men stood and dusted themselves down.
Thaler looked at them, they at him.
"Where is it, then?" asked Thaler. He peered through the windows.
"That's it." She pointed at the octagonal building. "The whole thing. Who's in charge here?"
"Me, my lady. Seibt."
He appeared to be no older than the journeymen around him, who all appeared to be barely out of apprenticeship. As he spoke, he tugged at his black hair.
"Master Seibt," said Sophia, "please show your construction to Master Thaler."
"Us? Yes, of course." He was momentarily transfixed, but, on recovering, pushed his colleagues into action. "And it's Mr Seibt, my lady."
Thaler watched as they removed the glass: it came out in frames held in place with toggles. It took them moments to take down a whole side, stacking the individual panels together on a blanket. They worked their way around each of the eight sides in turn, and when the last pane had been removed, they just lifted the roof off, carrying it high above their heads and clear of the structure to lay it on the ground.
"It's one-quarter size, my lady. Seasoned pine for lightness and flexibility. The roof is shingles, but we can copper it or gild it if you wish." Seibt wiped his tall forehead with a cloth.
Thaler stepped inside and patted one of the uprights. "And you made this when?"
"Truth be told, Master Thaler, there's no other work. It occurred to me that without magical light, houses and halls were going to be so much darker. We built it in the hope that someone would want it, if not you."
Sophia crossed her arms around her ledger. "Mr Seibt, what happened to your master?"
"He ..." Seibt stared at the ground, "he died, my lady. At least we think he did. After the, you know, emergency, there were a few of us who couldn't find a guild-accredited master, so we formed our own company. And someone had to apply to be the master of it, so I was chosen, except we don't have the money for the fees."
"Your guildmaster?"
"Master Emser, my lady."
"I saw him yesterday, along with the other guildmasters. I'll have to see them all again today: your situation won't be unique." She stepped inside the timber frame with Thaler. "Well, Frederik? Do you think it'll do?"