“What? Put it on your back and run away?” sneered Simony.
“No. I don't mean that. How many scrolls are there?”
“About seven hundred,” said Didactylos.
“How many of them are important?”
“All of them!” said Urn.
“Maybe a couple of hundred,” said Didactylos, mildly.
“Uncle! ”
“All the rest is just wind and vanity publishing,” said Didactylos.
“But they're books!”
“I may be able to take more than that,” said Brutha slowly. “Is there a way out?”
“There . . . could be,” said Didactylos.
“Don't tell him!” said Simony.
“Then all your books will burn,” said Brutha. He pointed to Simony. “He said you haven't got a choice. So you haven't got anything to lose, have you?”
"He's a- Simony began.
“Everyone shut up,” said Didactylos. He stared past Brutha's ear.
“There may be a way out,” he said. “What do you intend?”
“I don't believe this!” said Urn. “There's Omnians here and you're telling them there's another way out!”
“There's tunnels all through this rock,” said Didactylos.
“Maybe, but we don't tell people!”
“I'm inclined to trust this person,” said Didactylos. “He's got an honest face. Speaking philosophically.”
“Why should we trust him?”
“Anyone stupid enough to expect us to trust him in these circumstances must be trustworthy,” said Didactylos. “He'd be too stupid to be deceitful.”
“I can walk out of here right now,” said Brutha. “And where will your Library be then?”
“You see?” said Simony.
“Just when things apparently look dark, suddenly we have unexpected friends everywhere,” said Didactylos. “What is your plan, young man?”
“I haven't got one,” said Brutha. “I just do things, one after the other.”
“And how long will doing things one after another take you?”
“About ten minutes, I think.”
Simony glared at Brutha.
“Now get the books,” said Brutha. “And I shall need some light.”