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The two drew back to stand in the shadows of a large,
spreading oak.
"Fourth: the library will be razed to the ground! All the
books and scrolls and the lies that they contain will be
burned!"
The speaker snapped his own scroll shut. Leaning
toward the crowd, he made a sweeping gesture with his
arm, as if he would scoop them up and send them in a
surging tide toward destruction. The mob shouted its
agreement and made a tentative movement toward the steps
of the ancient library.
No one came out from the library. No defender
appeared in the doorway. The building itself, the weight of
years, its age and veneration and dignity, spoke a silent,
eloquent defense and daunted the crowd.
Those in the front ranks seemed unwilling to proceed,
fell back to let those behind come forth if they wanted.
Those behind, finding themselves about to become those in
front, had second thoughts, with the result that the mob
began to mill about aimlessly at the foot of the library stairs.
Some shouted threats; others threw rotten eggs and
vegetables at the venerable structure. No one wanted to go
any nearer.
The speaker gazed at them with a grim face, realized
that the time was not propitious. He stepped down from his
platform and was immediately surrounded by people, who
cried out for his blessing or reached out to touch him
reverently or held up their children for him to kiss.
"In the name of the Kingpriest," he said humbly,
moving from one to another. "In the name of the
Kingpriest
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