“Who are they?” whispered Mosca when they had been creeping in this way for some time.

“Stationers.” Kohlrabi’s whisper was a little louder than hers, as if he thought Mosca’s pursuers had probably been left behind. “Little god, you have been crashing through the undergrowth like a wounded boar, and they have been following the sound. I in turn have been following them. They were quite worried when you stopped walking, and they started arguing about which one of them should creep forward and get a sight of you. I thought I would try and reach you first.”

“An’ how did you know I was goin’ after the printing press?”

“A little guesswork, based on an apron in a herring barrel. The Stationers must have suspected as much to trail you like that, and I trust them to know their job. So—where is the press?”

“In the hold of a ragman’s raft. I hid it in the rushes an’ made sure I’d know the place again. I can take you there.” Mosca paused and swallowed mournfully. “Are you goin’ to take it away?”

“Mosca”—Kohlrabi’s voice was kind and patient—“look at all the hubbub this one printing press has caused in Mandelion. You must see that it is far too important a thing to have it falling into the wrong hands. Now, the Stationers would break it apart, or use it to print dull essays, and I think that would be a waste, don’t you? And other people might use it to print all kinds of stupid things and get themselves in trouble. Someone has to make sure it is used properly and fulfils its destiny.”

“If there are books there with the press . . . can I read them?”

Kohlrabi mulled this over for a few moments, his face invisible in the darkness.

“Perhaps,” he said at last. “Yes. I think, when we take the raft downstream, it would be best if you came with us.”

“We can’t go downstream, Mr. Kohlrabi! That’s what I wanted to tell you about! There’s people comin’ from the coast, an’ they mustn’t catch us. And listen, listen, Mr. Kohlrabi, I got to warn you about Lady Tamarind . . .”

As Mosca’s voice rose in pitch, Kohlrabi turned to stare back through the trees behind him, hushing her. One of his hands slid to his belt, and she remembered his pistol. He held up a hand for silence and spent a few seconds quite motionless, before beckoning to her sharply and creeping on stealthily as they had at first.