Convergence - The Last Science #2.1 - In Plain Sight

Interlude VI - Fame and Fortune - IV

  They peppered him with questions. Nate fielded them easily. He could tell they were all intimidated now, respecting him and what he could do. The questions about magic, he mostly shut down. They didn't want to reveal too much yet, obviously. Not with a book to sell.

  "What is this book, anyway? You got a title?" asked Phil, who hadn't quite dropped his prickly attitude, but still clearly deferred to Nate now.

  "Not yet. It's not my writing."

  That got their attention. "So whose is it?"

  Linda stepped in. Nate didn't mind; they made a good partnership most of the time, and it gave him an opportunity to take a few gulps of water and catch his breath. The display of magic earlier had been exhausting, even with the two near-perfect gemstones Linda had purchased. He still felt a bit winded by the exercise, and their constant requests for other minor displays didn't help much either.

  "The author was not one of the residents of the town. She was an outsider who kept detailed journals on the events."

  "Was?"

  "We have been unable to locate or contact her, or any of her relatives. She lived and wrote under a pseudonym. Her style and handwriting matched nothing on record to a satisfactory level of confidence."

  "Come on, how hard could it be?"

  Samantha adjusted her glasses slightly as she chimed in. "If Luther Renalds and Portman couldn't figure out who they are, no one can."

  Linda smiled slightly at the praise. "Given that her presence was confirmed in Rallsburg until the incident, and all remaining unidentified persons are still presumed dead, we feel we have legal standing to publish her diaries."

  "You're gonna get sued," said Phil. "She's still got copyright, dead or alive."

  "We made a reasonable effort to locate her, and these are extraordinary circumstances. Her personal diaries give invaluable insight into a tragic event that still dominates the news cycle six months later."

  "How personal are we talking?"

  "Barring a few minor editorial choices, the wording is one hundred percent hers." Linda glanced over at the door, where one of the bodyguards was waiting. She nodded, and he quickly headed down the hall to the reporters, passing out white-paper excerpts.

  "Some of this is downright poetic," Phil muttered.

  "Is this her handwriting as well?" asked Samantha.

  "Yes." Linda turned around and picked up the original journal, which had been sitting behind them on the desk the whole time. She turned it to the page they'd been given and held it up against the glass. The journal was leatherbound and with quality parchment paper, built to last. Nate mentally thanked Ruby for designing Cinza's later journals. Her older plain spiral notebooks were certainly well cared for, but they looked plain and unappealing compared to this weighty, beautiful tome. The parchment reminded him of the Scraps, too, though it was without the scratches of age.

  "That's going to be difficult to read," said one of the publishers.

  "Our plan is two copies of the book, one in a sans font and one in untouched script. The latter as a collector's item."

  He nodded. "We can sell that."

  "What's this blacked-out part?" asked Phil.

  "A name."