He stood there silent, far longer than Iris liked. But then he nodded.
“Fine. I’ll hold both. Which means we’ll be printing papers just before dawn.” Lawrence glanced at Iris, eyes narrowing. “Whatever you have planned for the Gazette better be worth it, Miss Winnow.”
Iris crossed her arms. It had been a long while since her words had been published in the Gazette. She didn’t miss it most days, but every now and then, she would let herself fall back to the nostalgia, when she had been bright-eyed and eager, thinking she would become a columnist at Oath’s prestigious newspaper.
It seemed rather fitting that she would commandeer the Gazette and write for it one final time.
She said, “Of course, Mr. Lawrence. I’m going to use it to tell people how they can find shelter during the bombing.”
* * *
While Helena accompanied Lawrence to the composing room, preparing new slugs for the front page of the Inkridden Tribune, Iris and Tobias sat in the lobby with sheets of paper and pencils, writing down all the magical streets and buildings south of the river they could think of.
It wasn’t as easy as Iris had originally anticipated because she knew the ley lines below didn’t match the streets above perfectly. And while one half of an apartment complex or a building might be safe, there was the chance that the other side wouldn’t be.
Iris rolled the pencil in her hand, staring at the addresses and street names she and Tobias had scribbled down. Some places she was certain of, recalling the map Roman had drawn for her. Other places she knew from experience, like that corner grocery she had often stopped at on her walks home from the Gazette. There was no denying it was an enchanted building with roots on a ley line, whose walls and roof would withstand a bomb. A safe place for people to shelter during the attack. But sometimes magic was softer. More discreet. Sometimes a structure wasn’t as forthright about it, and Iris sighed.
“I don’t want to misguide people,” she said, rubbing her temples. “Claiming a building is safe to shelter in when it might not be.”
Tobias was quiet, studying their list. “I know. But this is going to save more people than you realize, Iris.”
She studied their list again, aching when she thought of how many people lived in the southern half of the city. The university was there, as were both the Gazette and the Tribune. Most of downtown. The Riverside Park. The opera house. The museum.
Iris lived south of the river, as did Attie and Tobias. The places they had grown up, the places they loved. All of it would be broken by Dacre tomorrow.
Iris glanced at the lobby doors. Night was fast approaching.
“You should head home, Tobias,” she said. “I don’t want you to get caught after curfew.”
“What about you and Helena?”
“We’ll be safe here. Thank you for all your help today.”
“Anytime.” He smiled, but he seemed sad. Worried. “I’m going to stop by Attie’s on the way home, to let her and her family know what’s happening, since they’re south of the river.”
Iris nodded. “I was going to walk there first thing tomorrow morning.”
Tobias embraced her in farewell, and Iris felt his words rumble in his chest as he said, “Don’t worry. We’ve gotten through quite a bit, and the last lap of a race is one of the hardest. But we’ll make it through this time.”
If Iris had said the words, she might have struggled to believe them. But Tobias had made the impossible bend like heated metal before, and she found comfort in the thought.
After he left, she gathered up their papers. Greta gave her a pointed look but didn’t stop her when she slipped past her desk to find Lawrence and Helena working at one of the linotypes in the loud composing room.
“All right,” Iris said, straining her voice to speak over the constant clicking. “I—”
Before she could continue, Helena took hold of her arm and guided her out into the quieter hallway.
“What do you have for me, kid?” Helena asked.
“This is what I’m thinking.” Iris took a deep breath before continuing. “Dacre will be reading the Inkridden Tribune tomorrow, to see if I complied and got his announcement on the front page. I don’t think he’ll peruse the Gazette as well, but just in case, I think we should list a few addresses on the front page, like it’s a mere advertisement, and then have it continue on the second or third, ending with the statement that these are presumed buildings on ley lines, and can provide the best shelter during the bombing.”
Helena, unlit cigarette in her mouth, smiled. “I think that’s brilliant, kid.”
“Until Zeb Autry calls me in the morning and threatens to sue me,” Lawrence said gruffly. Iris hadn’t realized he had followed them into the hallway. “I know it won’t matter after noon, but how am I to answer for his paper getting an ‘advertisement’ he never agreed to?”
“It’s quite simple, actually.” Iris laced her fingers behind her back. “Tell him it’s courtesy of Inkridden Iris.”
{44}
Iron and Salt
It was almost dark when Iris walked to the closest tram stop to wait beneath the glow of a streetlamp. Helena had decided to stay at the printer through the night to assist Lawrence, dismissing Iris shortly after they had agreed what to do about the Gazette.
“Get home before nightfall, kid,” Helena had said, lighting her cigarette at last. “Your brother, I’m sure, is keen to see you.”
Iris hadn’t protested. She felt exhausted and battered now that the article was out of her hands. And she did need to get home—she wanted to see Forest—but then she remembered the sword, still hiding under Helena’s desk.
With a sigh, Iris began the brisk walk to the Inkridden Tribune. It wasn’t far from the print factory, and she thankfully made it to the office before the last editor left.
“Lock up behind you, will you, Winnow?” he asked, shrugging on his coat.
Iris sat at her desk as if she planned to work through the night, but she nodded. “Yes, of course. Goodnight, Frank.”
She waited until his footsteps faded away on the stairs before she rose and snatched a spare jacket from the rack. She hurried into Helena’s office, worried that the sword would be gone. But it was still there, just as they had left it.
Iris knelt and wrapped the scabbard and hilt in the jacket. It was the best way she could think of transporting the sword home without revealing what it was—gods, what would she do if the Graveyard caught her with it?—and she was about to rise to her feet, sword awkwardly in tow, when she heard footsteps again. They were growing louder. Someone was descending the stairs, approaching the Tribune.
Iris remained behind Helena’s desk. She hadn’t locked the door when Frank strode out, thinking no one would swing by since curfew had almost struck. But now she was stranded in Helena’s office, unsure who was coming.