Read Online The Clockwork Crown by Beth Cato - Free Book Online Page A

Percival.
    â€œThere must be something more,” Octavia muttered as they rode a tenth-­level tram to yet another library. They sat side by side in an almost empty car. Afternoon sun failed to penetrate the constant clouds, though at least they were true clouds and not the persistent pollution said to smother Mercia. She rubbed her arm against her torso and sighed.
    â€œSuch books must exist. ’Tis a matter of finding them.” Alonzo stared out the window.
    Octavia avoided the view and kept her satchel clutched tight on her lap. Her headband helped her tolerate the number of ­people, but the sheer density of the city bothered her. I’m a country girl at heart, even if it means a lack of libraries.
    â€œSo far, it feels like hunting for a cat’s whisker in a haystack. No one here is interested in magic or hokey religions, but someone must be buying the books since nothing has been remaindered in any of their storage rooms.”
    â€œAn interesting observation. Perhaps ’tis time for a change of tack at our next library.”
    â€œOur last library, at least on your sister’s list.”
    Tatiana had sobbed and wailed at Alonzo’s departure that morning, pleading for him to return. Alonzo vowed he would send word somehow. After this next stop, their priority was to find a doss house in which to spend the night.
    â€œThere are other, smaller libraries on the other isles, but I fear the reception would be much the same.”
    A light rain pattered against the metal roof as they traversed catwalks down to the seventh floor of a skyscraper. At such a height, Octavia could see a hundred towers, maybe more, each a dark gray monolith against the mist. Still no sight of the sea, though. There was too much city in the way. A strong wind nipped straight up her skirt and made her convulse with cold.
    This library occupied the full floor of a broad building. Few ­people utilized tables at the very front. A father sat with two young children at his feet as he read in a low rumble. A few women walked among the shelves, long skirts swaying. The rows of shelves reminded Octavia of the tidy furrows of a field.
    In the fields back at the academy, the other girls will be planting tulip bulbs for spring. She rubbed the fingertips of her borrowed gloves as if she could feel moisture and grit. She had always loved planting times—­she loved busywork when no one suffered.
    â€œWalk on in,” Alonzo murmured. “I will make my inquiries.”
    Octavia studied a display of copper novels that boasted of espionage, intrigue, and murder—­published by Mrs. Stout’s book company, no less. Even so, she felt her lip curl in distaste. I fear my choices in pulp novels will be limited in the future.
    â€œMy professor assigned me to write a paper on the obscure religions of Caskentia and how they regard magic,” Alonzo was saying to a librarian. The woman clicked her tongue. “I know, I know. The man must hate me. The search has been futile. I lack the money to buy the books new . . .”
    â€œThe lot of students. I know it well.” Her smile was sympathetic.
    My Caskentian accent makes me sound like an illiterate toerag, but his Mercian lilt immediately makes him appear like a Caskentian student here for a proper education.
    â€œDo you know where I might buy remaindered library books on the subject? I am desperate.”
    â€œI’m afraid I have bad news for you. When it comes to magic, august Balthazar Cody has likely bought them all. He’s known for his eccentricities.”
    â€œBalthazar Cody.” Alonzo tested the thick name on his tongue. “Of Tamarania, correct? Does he own . . . ?”
    â€œThe Warriors’ Arena, yes. That said, there are a few books on the shelf I can show you.”
    An august. That would be like a councilman in Caskentia. With the population here, that’s a position of great prestige. It’d