“There . . . could be,” said Didactylos.
“Don't tell him!” said Simony.
“Then all your books will burn,” said Brutha. He pointed to Simony. “He said you haven't got a choice. So you haven't got anything to lose, have you?”
"He's a- Simony began.
“Everyone shut up,” said Didactylos. He stared past Brutha's ear.
“There may be a way out,” he said. “What do you intend?”
“I don't believe this!” said Urn. “There's Omnians here and you're telling them there's another way out!”
“There's tunnels all through this rock,” said Didactylos.
“Maybe, but we don't tell people!”
“I'm inclined to trust this person,” said Didactylos. “He's got an honest face. Speaking philosophically.”
“Why should we trust him?”
“Anyone stupid enough to expect us to trust him in these circumstances must be trustworthy,” said Didactylos. “He'd be too stupid to be deceitful.”
“I can walk out of here right now,” said Brutha. “And where will your Library be then?”
“You see?” said Simony.
“Just when things apparently look dark, suddenly we have unexpected friends everywhere,” said Didactylos. “What is your plan, young man?”
“I haven't got one,” said Brutha. “I just do things, one after the other.”
“And how long will doing things one after another take you?”
“About ten minutes, I think.”
Simony glared at Brutha.
“Now get the books,” said Brutha. “And I shall need some light.”
“But you can't even read!” said Urn.
“I'm not going to read them.” Brutha looked blankly at the first scroll, which happened to be De Chelonian Mobile.
“Oh. My god,” he said.
“Something wrong?” said Didactylos.
“Could someone fetch my tortoise?”
Simony trotted through the palace. No one was paying him much attention. Most of the Ephebian guard was outside the labyrinth, and Vorbis had made it clear to anyone who was thinking of venturing inside just what would happen to the palace's inhabitants. Groups of Omnian soldiers were looting in a disciplined sort of way.
Besides, he was returning to his quarters.
There was a tortoise in Brutha's room. It was sit?ting on the table, between a rolled-up scroll and a gnawed melon rind and, insofar as it was possible to tell with tortoises, was asleep. Simony grabbed it without ceremony, rammed it into his pack, and hur?ried back towards the Library.
He hated himself for doing it. The stupid priest had ruined everything! But Didactylos had made him promise, and Didactylos was the man who knew the Truth.
All the way there he had the impression that someone was trying to attract his attention.