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He
proceeded
cautiously
now
,
realising
with
a
sense
of
inevitability
that
the
footprints
seemed
to
have
the
same
destination
in
mind
as
he
did
.
He
turned
a
corner
and
there
it
was
.
The
section
.
The
bookcase
.
The
shelf
.
The
gap
.
There
are
many
horrible
sights
in
the
multiverse
.
Somehow
,
though
,
to
a
soul
attuned
to
the
subtle
rhythms
of
a
library
,
there
are
few
worse
sights
than
a
hole
where
a
book
ought
to
be
.
Someone
had
stolen
a
book
.
In
the
privacy
of
the
Oblong
Office
,
his
personal
sanctum
,
the
Patrician
paced
up
and
down
.
He
was
dictating
a
stream
of
instructions
.
"
And
send
some
men
to
paint
that
wall
,
"
he
finished
.
