{"product_id":"ash-and-quill-isbn-9780451473158","title":"Ash and Quill","description":"\u003cb\u003eThe unforgettable characters from \u003ci\u003eInk and Bone\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003ePaper and Fire\u003c\/i\u003e unite to save the Great Library of Alexandria from itself in this electrifying adventure in the \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling series.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Hoarding all the knowledge of the world, the Great Library jealously guards its secrets. But now a group of rebels poses a dangerous threat to its tyranny....\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Jess Brightwell and his band of exiles have fled London, only to find themselves imprisoned in Philadelphia, a city led by those who would rather burn books than submit. But Jess and his friends have a bargaining chip: the knowledge to build a machine that will break the Library’s rule.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Their time is running out. To survive, they’ll have to choose to live or die as one, to take the fight to their enemies—and to save the very soul of the Great Library....\u003cb\u003ePraise for \u003ci\u003ePaper and Fire\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “\u003ci\u003ePaper and Fire\u003c\/i\u003e made me weep, clench my fists in anger, and gape in amazement. It was an engaging ride from beginning to end.”—Caffeinated Book Reviewer\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “\u003ci\u003eOcean’s Eleven\u003c\/i\u003e meets \u003ci\u003eThe Hunger Games\u003c\/i\u003e, with \u003ci\u003eLogan’s Run\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eThe DaVinci Code\u003c\/i\u003e thrown in for good measure.”—Kings River Life Magazine\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “This exciting, fast-paced adventure from the prolific Caine will appeal to fans of fantasy with a sense of camaraderie.”—\u003ci\u003eLibrary Journal\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “A fantastic sequel...[a] cliff-hanger ending.”—The BiblioSanctum\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003ePraise for \u003ci\u003eInk and Bone\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Rachel Caine transports the reader to an imaginary future world where a Great Library controls all knowledge and the private ownership of printed books is a radical, dangerous practice.”—#1 \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e Bestselling Author Deborah Harkness \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Dark, riveting, heart-in-the-throat storytelling, with characters who caught me up and hold me even now. A don't-miss read!”—\u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e Bestselling Author Tamora Pierce\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Caine’s elegantly detailed descriptions bring Jess’s world to vivid life in a fast-paced, action-oriented plot that will leave readers breathlessly anticipating not just the next page but the next book in the Great Library series.”—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly \u003c\/i\u003e(Starred Review)\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Fans will fall in love with Jess and want the next book out immediately.”—\u003ci\u003eUSA Today\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003eRachel Caine\u003c\/b\u003e is the \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eUSA Today\u003c\/i\u003e, #1 \u003ci\u003eWall Street Journal\u003c\/i\u003e, and international bestselling author of more than fifty novels for adults and young adults, including the Stillhouse Lake series, the Weather Warden series, the Outcast Season series, the Revivalist series, and the Morganville Vampires series.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRachel Caine lost her fight with a rare and aggressive cancer in November of 2020. The popularity of her novels subsequent to her tragic passing is a tribute to the timelessness of her creative spirit.Chapter One\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Books burned so easily.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Paper tanned in the fluttering heat, then sparked sullen red at      the edges. Flames left fragile curls of ash. Leather bindings      smoked and shriveled and blackened, just like burning flesh.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Jess Brightwell watched the fire climb the pyramid of books and      willed himself not to flinch as each layer caught. His brain raced      with involuntary calculations. One hundred books in five layers.      The burning bottom layer: forty-four gone. The second level held      another thirty-two, and it was already billowing dull smoke. The      next had eighteen more volumes, then five on top of that. The      pyramid was capped by one lone book that sat tantalizingly ready      for the grabbing. Easy to save as the flames climbed the stack,      consuming layer after layer and burning something inside him      blacker and colder.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e If I could just save one . . .\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But he couldn't save anything. Even himself, at the moment.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Jess's head hurt fiercely in the glare of the sun. Everything was      still a blur. He remembered the chaos of London as the Welsh army      descended on it, a battle even he had never imagined the English      would lose; he remembered the mesmerizing sight of the dome of St.      Paul's catching fire above them as librarians struggled to save      what they could.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He remembered his father and brother, when it counted, turning      their backs on him and running.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Most of all, he remembered being forced into the Translation      Chamber, and the sickening ripping sensation of being destroyed      and created again far, far from London . . . here in the      Burner-held city of Philadelphia.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Sent to the rebellious colonies of America.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Jess and his friends hadn't been granted any time to recover;      they'd been dragged, still sick and weak, to what must have once      been a sports stadium; in better times, maybe it had been filled      with cheering crowds. Now it was half ruined, melted into a      misshapen lump on one side of the concrete stands, and instead of      a grassy field in the middle there were bare ground and a funeral      pyre of books.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Jess couldn't take his eyes off of them as they burned, because he      was thinking, sickly, We're next.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Jess,\" said Scholar Christopher Wolfe, who was on his knees next      to him in the dirt. \"They're not original books. They're Blanks.\"      That was true. But Jess didn't miss the tremors running through      the man, either. The shine in Wolfe's dark eyes was made of pure,      unholy rage. He was right: Blanks were just empty paper and      bindings provided by the Great Library of Alexandria, vessels to      hold words copied on command from originals kept safe within the      Library's archives. These were empty symbols that were burning. In      any Library territory, they'd be cheaply and easily replaced, and      nothing would be lost at all.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But seeing them destroyed still hurt. He'd been raised to love      books, for all that his family had smuggled them, sold them, and      profited from them.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Words were sacred things, and this was a particularly awful kind      of heresy.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e As he watched, the last book shivered in the rising heat, as if it      might break free and escape the fire. But then the edges crisped,      paper smoked, and it was gone in rising curls of ash.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Scholar Khalila Seif knelt on his left side, as straight and quiet      as a statue. She looked perfectly calm; she had her hands resting      lightly on her thighs, her head high and her hijab fluttering      lightly at the edges in the hot breeze. Beneath the black silk      Scholar's outer robe she wore a still-clean dress, only a little      muddy and ashen at the hem from their progress through London.      Next to Khalila, Glain Wathen looked as if she were only      momentarily frozen in the act of rising-a lithe warrior, all      vibrating tension. Beyond her was Thomas Schreiber, then Morgan      Hault, then-last and least, in Jess's thoughts-Dario Santiago.      Outcast, even among their little band of exiles.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e To Jess's right was Scholar Wolfe and, beyond him, Captain Santi.      That was the entire roll call of their party of prisoners, and not      a single useful weapon among them. They'd not had time to make a      plan. Jess couldn't imagine that any of them had much worthwhile      to say just now.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e There was an audience in the crumbling stands: the good citizens      of Philadelphia. A ragged, patchwork crowd of hard men and women      and children who'd survived starvation, deprivation of all sorts,      and constant attacks. They had no pity for the pampered servants      of the Great Library.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e What would Wolfe tell them if he had the chance? That the Great      Library was still a great and precious thing, something to be      saved, not destroyed? That the cancer that had rotted it from      within could still be healed? They'd never believe it. Jess took      in a deep breath and choked on the stench of burning books.      Imaginary Wolfe, he thought, gave crap speeches.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A man dressed in a fine-cut suit of black wool stepped up to block      Jess's view of the pyre. He was a tall, bespectacled fellow, full      of the confidence of a man of property; he could have, by      appearance, been a banker or a lawyer in a more normal sort of      place. The smoke that rose black against the pale blue morning sky      seemed to billow right from the crown of his head. His      collar-length hair was the same gray as the ash.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Willinger Beck. Elected leader of the Burners of Philadelphia-and,      by extension, all Burners everywhere, since this place was the      symbol of their fanatical movement. The head fanatic in a movement      composed entirely of fanatics.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He studied their faces without making any comment at all. He must      have enjoyed what he saw.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Very impressive waste of resources,\" Scholar Wolfe said. His tone      was sour, and completely bracing to Jess. Wolfe sounds the same,      no matter what. \"Is this a prelude to setting us on fire next?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Don't be ridiculous,\" Beck said. \"Surely our learned guests      understand the power of a symbol.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"This is barbaric,\" Khalila said from Jess's other side. \"A      criminal waste.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"My dear Scholar, we handwrite our own books here. On paper we      rescue by picking apart the Library's Blanks and destroying their      alchemical bindings. You speak of us as barbaric? Do you know      whose symbols you wear? You will not take that tone with us.\" At      the end of it, his friendly voice sharpened into an edge.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Jess said, \"Talk to her that way again and I'll snap your      kneecaps.\" His hands were not bound. He was free to move; they all      were. Which meant they could, as a group, do serious damage before      they were taken down by the Burner guards stationed behind them.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e In theory, anyway. He knew the guard directly behind him held a      gun barrel trained on the back of his neck, precisely where it      could blow a hole that would instantly end his life.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But he'd gotten Beck's attention, and his stare. Good.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Here now,\" Beck said, back to mild and reproving. \"We should be      friends, after all; we share a common sense that the Great Library      of Alexandria has become a destructive parasite. It's no longer      some great, untouchable icon. There's no need for anger between      us.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I'm not familiar with American customs,\" said Captain Santi, on      the other side of Wolfe. He sounded pleasant and calm. Jess      sincerely doubted he was either. \"Is this how you treat your      friends?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Considering you alone put three of my men in the infirmary on      your arrival, even in your weakened state? Yes,\" Beck said.      \"Captain Santi, we really do resist the Library, just as I am told      you do. So should we all. The Library grants people pitiful drops      of knowledge while it hoards up oceans for itself. Surely you,      too, must see the way it manipulates the world to its own gain.\"      He nodded at the black robe that Wolfe wore. \"The common man calls      you Scholars by another name: Stormcrows. That black robe isn't a      sign of your scholarship anymore, and it isn't an object of      reverence. It's a sign of the chaos and destruction you bring down      in your wake.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"No,\" Wolfe said. \"It still stands for what it's always stood for:      that I will die to preserve the knowledge of this world. I may      hate the Archivist, I may want him and his brand of greed and      cruelty gone, but I still hold to the ideals. The robe is a symbol      of that.\" He paused, and his tone took on silky, dark contempt.      \"You, of all people, understand the power of a symbol.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Oh, I do,\" Beck said. \"Take the robe off.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Wolfe's chin went up, just a fraction. He was staring straight at      Beck. His graying hair whipped in the hot breeze from the pyre,      and still he didn't blink as he said, simply, \"No.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Last chance, Scholar Wolfe. If you repudiate the Library now, it      will all go better for you. The Library certainly doesn't stand by      you.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"No.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Beck nodded to someone behind them, and Jess, from the corner of      his eye, saw the flash of a knife being drawn. He tried to turn,      but a hand fell hard on his shoulder, and the gun barrel pressed      close enough to bruise the base of his skull.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He was already too late for any kind of rescue.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e One of Beck's guards grabbed Wolfe's black robe by the sleeve and      sliced the silk all the way to the neck-left sleeve, then right,      efficient and ruthlessly precise cuts. With the flourish of a      cheap street magician, the man tore the robe from Wolfe to leave      him kneeling in plain, dark street clothes. He held the mangled      fabric up above his head. A breeze heated by burning books caught      the silk and fluttered it out like a ragged banner.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Wolfe's expression never changed, but next to him, Niccolo Santi      let out a purely murderous growl and came half up from his knees      before the guard behind him slammed a heavy metal club into the      back of his head. The blow crashed Santi back down. He looked      dazed but still dangerous.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The man who'd taken Wolfe's robe paraded it around, as proud as a      strutting rooster, and from the stands applause and cheers      swelled. It nearly covered up the muttering roar of burning books.      Beck ignored that and pointed to Khalila. \"Now her.\" Another guard      stepped up to the young woman, but before he could use his knife,      Khalila held up both hands. The gesture looked like an order, not      a surrender, and it stopped the guard in his tracks.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I will stand up now,\" Khalila said. \"I will not resist.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The guard looked uncertainly at Beck, who raised his eyebrows and      nodded.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Jess watched her tensely from the corner of his eye as she stood      in a smooth, calm motion, and from her other side, he saw Glain      doing the same, openly ready to fight if Khalila gave a sign she      needed help.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But Khalila lifted her hands in a graceful, unhurried way to      unfasten the catch that held the black silk robe closed at her      throat. She slipped the robe off her shoulders and caught it as it      fluttered down, then folded it with precise movements into a neat,      smooth square.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Then she took a step forward and held the folded silk out, one      hand supporting it, the other on top, like a queen presenting a      gift to a subject. In one calculated move, she had taken Willinger      Beck's symbol away and made it her own. Jess felt a fierce surge      of savage joy at the look on Beck's face. He'd just been bested by      a girl a quarter of his age, and the taste seemed bitter.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But he wasn't taking that without hitting back, and Jess saw that      an instant before Beck grabbed the folded robe and flung it into      the pyre of burning books. Petty contempt, but it struck Jess like      a gut punch. He saw a shiver run through Khalila, too . . . just      the barest flinch. Like Wolfe, she lifted her chin. Defiant.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Only cowards are so afraid of a scrap of cloth,\" she said, clear      enough to carry to the stands. There was a shimmer in her eyes:      anger, not tears. \"We may not agree with the Archivist; we may      want to see him gone and better Scholars take his place. But we      still stand for knowledge. You stand for nothing.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Beck looked past her and gave a bare, terse nod to a guard, and in      the next instant, Khalila was seized, yanked back, and forced to      her knees. She almost fell, toppling toward Jess. He instinctively      put out a hand to help her, and her fingers twined with his.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e That was the instant he understood what she was really about.      Removing her robe hadn't been just defiance; it was distraction.      Concealed between her fingers, she held a single metal hairpin-one      she'd plucked from under her hijab.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She knew that in Jess's hands, a hairpin was as good a weapon as      any.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A vast, cooling sense of relief washed through his chest, and he      exchanged a swift glance with her as he slipped the pin between      his own fingers. She's right. Sooner or later, there'll be locks      to open. If we live so long.","brand":"Berkley","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46303330107621,"sku":"NP9780451473158","price":12.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780451473158.jpg?v=1767721846","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/ash-and-quill-isbn-9780451473158","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}