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problem. The desk contained nothing of interest – everything secret had been locked away after Barkus’s death. However, as she pulled out the lowest drawer, it stuck.
    It took some time to free it, after which Tiaan removed the drawer to see what was the matter. She was used to fixing things. Probably the runners needed waxing. As she was rubbing them with the stub of a candle, she noticed that the drawer was shallower than its external dimensions indicated. That could only mean one thing.
    It did not take her long to find the secret compartment. Inside lay a slim book made of rice paper, with soft leather covers. She picked it up. The title page simply said: Runcible Nunar –
The Mancer’s Art
.
    No wonder Barkus had hidden it. The penalty for having an illegal copy of any book on mancing would be horrific. Nunar’s treatise was justly famous and many copies had been made, though such books were guarded jealously. Why had Barkus, a humble crafter in an obscure manufactory, obtained an illegal copy?
    At a footfall outside the door, Tiaan thrust the book into her coat and pushed the drawer in. A cold voice broke into her thoughts.
    ‘Just what do you think you’re doing?’
    ‘I beg your pardon?’ Tiaan said. The intruder was Irisis Stirm, a fellow artisan slightly Tiaan’s junior, although Irisis did not think so.
    She stood in the doorway, tapping an elegant foot. Irisis knew
her
worth. Tall and lavishly endowed, with corn-yellow hair and brilliant blue eyes, she stood out in the manufactory like a beacon. Tiaan had never met anyone with hair that colour, and no one around here had blue eyes, though the old crafter’s may have been when he was young.
    ‘You have no right to come in here. These are the crafter’s rooms. He was my uncle!’ Irisis pointed that out at every opportunity.
    ‘I answer to Gi-Had, not you! Look to the quality of your own work!’
    That was a mistake. Irisis was much better at managing the other artisans than Tiaan was. Moreover, she made controllers of rare perfection and extraordinary beauty – works of art. Her use of crystals, though, was timid, and she was peculiarly sensitive to criticism about it.
    ‘At least my controllers work!’ Irisis sneered.
    ‘Only because we all help you tune them.’
    ‘How dare you!’ Irisis cried. ‘If Uncle Barkus was still alive he’d put you in your place.’
    ‘He did! He put me above you. Now he’s dead and I am responsible for your work.’
    ‘Unless,’ Irisis said reflectingly, ‘you’re sent to the breeding factory to do your duty.’
    Tiaan had no comeback. Irisis did
her
duty enthusiastically and often, though so far with no sign of success. Perhaps she used a preventative. That was a serious crime, though not an uncommon one. Heading for the door, Tiaan laughed nervously. ‘I think I’m more valuable here than there!’
    Irisis’s blue eyes flashed. ‘You couldn’t manage a dung fight in a pigsty! I’ll be crafter here one day,
over you!
Then you’ll know it.’ She stood by the door as Tiaan went out. There was no chance to put the book back.
    Returning to her bench, Tiaan watched Irisis across the room as she donned goggles and mask and sat down at her grinding wheel. It began to whine and the artisan took up a crystal. Soon the air was full of drifting specks.
    Tiaan worked fruitlessly for hours, until her head drooped. She laid it on the bench, then realised that the manufactory was silent. It must be midnight. Plodding to her room, she washed in a basin of cold water and fell onto her straw-stuffed pallet.
    As soon as her head hit the pillow, Tiaan’s worries returned and, though exhausted, she found herself wide awake. She went over her problems again and again, quite uselessly. Finally, knowing she was never going to get to sleep, she lit a candle, locked her door and took out the forbidden book.
    She did not open it immediately. Tiaan was not sure she should look at it at all, but if she took it back to the