Стража! Стража!

           Oh,assassinsandthievesmightmakeuseofthem,buthe’dlongagofoundtheforestofchimneys,buttresses,gargoylesandweathervanesaconvenientandsomehowcomfortingalternativetothestreets.

           Atleast,upuntilnow.

           IthadseemedamusingandinstructivetofollowtheWatchintotheShades,anurbanjunglewhichheldnofearsfora300-lbape.Butnowthenightmarehehadseenwhilebrachiatingacrossadarkalleywould,ifhehadbeenhuman,havemadehimdoubttheevidenceofhisowneyes.

           Asanape,hehadnodoubtswhatsoeverabouthiseyesandbelievedthemallthetime.

           Rightnowhewantedtoconcentratethemurgentlyonabookthatmightholdaclue.Itwasinasectionno-onebotheredwithmuchthesedays;thebooksintherewerenotreallymagical.Dustlayaccusinglyonthefloor.

           Dustwithfootprintsinit.

           "Oook?"saidtheLibrarian,inthewarmgloom.

           Heproceededcautiouslynow,realisingwithasenseofinevitabilitythatthefootprintsseemedtohavethesamedestinationinmindashedid.

           Heturnedacornerandthereitwas.

           Thesection.

           Thebookcase.

           Theshelf.

           Thegap.

           Therearemanyhorriblesightsinthemultiverse.Somehow,though,toasoulattunedtothesubtlerhythmsofalibrary,therearefewworsesightsthanaholewhereabookoughttobe.

           Someonehadstolenabook.

           IntheprivacyoftheOblongOffice,hispersonalsanctum,thePatricianpacedupanddown.Hewasdictatingastreamofinstructions.

           "Andsendsomementopaintthatwall,"hefinished.

           LupineWonseraisedaneyebrow.

           "Isthatwise,sir?"hesaid.