“Except that,” he agreed.

Gregory said, “Come on, then,” and led the way out.

Jess supposed he shouldn’t have been astonished by the interior of the Iron Tower, but he was, and felt as much of a bumpkin gone to market as he had on his first day in Alexandria.

The tower’s central core held rooms. The garden room and Translation Chamber—which sat atop everything else—stretched across the entire expanse from side to side. Beneath that, stairs wound in a flat spiral around the outer walls of the tower, and Jess could feel the warmth of the Alexandrian sun radiating through the metal skin—muted, but not completely gone. Nevertheless, it was cool inside, an artificial sort of coolness that puzzled him, until he felt a breeze from a grate blowing unnaturally cool air. He mentioned it to Thomas, who nodded. “It’s like the heated air we use in the winter,” he said. “Here, heat is as much the enemy as our cold.”

“I can understand heat, but how do you cool air down? Ice?”

“Chemicals,” Thomas said. “There are some that freeze things. I suppose blowing air over a mixture of them might do the trick. I never thought of it before.” He seemed thoughtful, distracted by the question. That was good. He even seemed strong enough to take the stairs alone, though with Santi’s watchful support at the ready.

The cool air wasn’t the only marvel. The lights were made of clear glass globes with glowing centers that seemed like trapped starlight. And they were everywhere . . . hanging from chains overhead, powering lamps sitting on tables. When he reached out to touch the nearest lit glass, it scorched his fingers as if he’d put them in an open flame. He felt like an idiot.

“It’s powered by electricity,” Morgan said. “The heat’s a by-product.”

“I didn’t think electricity could be used for illumination! I thought it was just a party trick, of no real useful application.”

“One of a great many things we’ve been taught that isn’t true,” she said. “Don’t be fooled by all the wonders. It’s a pretty prison. Still a prison.”

Gregory was already proceeding down another round of stairs ahead of them, and they had to hurry to catch up. Khalila seemed as fascinated as Jess with what they were seeing, though far less willing to risk skin in experimentation. She dropped back to chat with Thomas, and they had an animated conversation about the wonders of the square lifting device, quite like a small room on tracks, that rose and fell, carrying people from one floor of the tower to another. Electrical as well, Jess gathered from the densely technical discussion. Jess was used to the ever-present sound of steam pumps; it had been the constant heartbeat of London, and even in Alexandria the hiss of them was never far away. But here . . . here the power they used gave it an eerie, calm silence.