Wellside by Robin Shortt

Author:Robin Shortt
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: crossover YA, magic, steampunk, paranormal romance, fantasy, adventure, alternate universes
ISBN: 9781936460762
Publisher: Candlemark & Gleam
Published: 2017-06-01T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Some Librarians chatter through their Defence, explaining every step, pointing out each salient in their Proof.

Essa never says a word, just the occasional grunt of effort as she twists her fingers around each other. Beside her, Whisper diagrams the Proof, circles shifting inside circles, Library notation for Wellside math. Under Whisper, the Mandala turns, each axiom and conclusion like raindrops falling, spreading tiny ripples as it absorbs them.

Some Librarians structure their presentation, building to a dramatic revelation that the sand beside them echoes triumphantly. Fireworks. Essa just brings her hands together while Whisper shrinks to a sphere beside her, then she stands back and folds her arms, hunched like she’s bracing for a blow.

The panel in front of her haven’t moved once the entire time, just their eyes, flickering between Whisper and the Mandala.

A short silence. Essa doesn’t drop her guard. Gregor is in the gallery, she sees, and doesn’t allow herself to react.

“Where did you get your data?” asks the panel chair, looking at the sand lectern in front of his seat, the symbols tracing themselves on it.

Essa relaxes, not because the blow has missed, but because it has landed and she’s still on her feet. Gregor is a blur in her peripheral vision, but she can tell he hasn’t moved.

“My own research. Also certain Stacks, it’s all in the—”

“Your bibliography,” says another Librarian, of the same species as the Governess back in Three Suns, her bright red corneas staring down at Essa, and how appropriate, she thinks, “is in the notation of several Isms, all obscure and some defunct. While we can verify that the data are present and accurate, determining where they are, that is to say, their relationship with other data, their provenance, will be almost prohibitively difficult.”

“None of this is against the rules.”

“The letter of the rules, as opposed—”

Essa uncrosses her arms, stands taller. “The data are accurate, and accurately cited. That’s the reason the bibliography exists, to confirm that. That’s the reason you exist.”

“We are not here,” says the lady with red eyes hotly, “only to determine the accuracy of your data, but ethical—”

The Chair raises a hand. “Have you had any contact with the Exile?” he asks.

The flatness of the question shocks even Essa, a little. “No, I have not.”

Gregor gets up and leaves.

The Chair stands. “That this panel shall seal the thesis data and arguments?”

A chorus of soft “Aye”s.

“What?”

“The thesis is sealed and will be isolated from the Stacks,” he says. “The author shall receive a passing grade and is dismissed.”

Essa doesn’t move.

“There’s no way you’re sealing this,” she says. “Because this is worth money. Isn’t it? Even if it had come from the Exile itself, you’d still use it.”

“The author—” The Chair is losing his patience. His red-haired neighbour is seething.

“So you’re just going to take it away from me, that’s what you’re doing—” Two Librarians are coming to escort Essa out, but she waves them off. She draws breath to say something else, then turns abruptly and leaves.

Gregor finds her in the Cathedral.

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