'Look at 'em,' he said. 'Powerful lot of stuff in there that we could find useful, and the Stationeri guard it like, like-' 'Like something well guarded?' said Masklin.
'Right. Right. That's exactly right. They keep looking hard at 'em. Reading, they call it. But they don't understand any of it.' There was a whirr from the Thing in Torrit's arms, and a few lights lit up.
'Books are repositories of knowledge?' it said.
'There's said to be a lot in them,' said Dorcas.
'It is vital that you obtain books,' said the Thing. 'Stationeri hold on to 'em,' said Dorcas. 'Unless you know how to read books properly they inflame the brain, they say.' 'In here, please,' said Gurder, shifting a cardboard barrier.
Someone was waiting for them, sitting stiffly on a pile of cushions with his back to them.
'Ah. Gurder,' he said. 'Come in. Good.' It was the Abbot. He didn't turn around.
Masklin prodded Gurder. 'It was bad enough just now,' he said. 'Why are we doing this again?' Gurder gave him a look which seemed to say: Trust me, this is the only way.
'Have you arranged for some food, Gurder?' said the Abbot.
'My lord, I was just-' 'Go and do it now.' 'Yes, my lord.' Gurder gave Masklin another desperate look and scurried away.
The nomes stood sheepishly, wondering what was going to happen next.
The Abbot spoke.
'I am nearly fifteen years old,' he said. 'I am older even than some departments in the Store. I have seen many strange things, and soon I am going to meet Arnold Bros (est. 1905) in the hope that I have been a good and dutiful nome. I am so old that there are nomes who think that in some way I am the Store, and fear that when I am gone the Store will end. Now you tell me this is so. Who is in charge?' Masklin looked at Torrit. But everyone else looked at him.