...in a spherical chamber located in the heart of the Archive of Noct. It was split into two hemispheres, the upper containing electronic apparatus coagulated into lumps set here and there with screens, the lower, malodorous below the grille that was the floor, of less apparent purpose. Furniture was spartan - a desk, a chair, a black statue dedicated to the perpetually nocturnal. The atmosphere of the chamber seemed poisoned with fumes, and with less corporeal vapours as if previously it had been a torture chamber.
The Reeve, Umia, looked at home here. He was of medium height and weight, his large head topped with cropped white hair, a pair of small blue eyes overshadowed by wild eyebrows. He wore a cloak of glittering blue salmon leather, and a kirtle embroidered with crimson thread. His left lower leg and left forearm had been replaced, the leg a node-encrusted lump like a steel sea urchin, the forearm a polished orb with dangling cable. These prosthetic limbs in addition to the vexed manner made Umia seem like an afflicted old soldier oppressed by memory. He was in the habit of smoothing back his facial skin, as if the deep wrinkles there were an affront to some inner torment.
He was waiting. A meeting earlier scheduled was now due.
The door to the chamber opened, and he saw his First and Second Deputies, Heraber tall and saturnine like an evil siren, Ciswadra small and bent like a crone. The pair walked in.
"Are the other two here, yet?" Umia asked Heraber.
“They are inside the Archive and will be here in seconds, Reeve.”
“Good. I do hate wasting valuable time.”
Umia frowned and looked at the still open door, hearing the sounds of bootsteps; and here were the other two members of Cray’s ruling Triad, Querhidwe the Lord Archivist of Selene, dressed in clothes so dusty and unwashed they might be those of a street beggar, and Rhannan - cursed Rhannan - of the Archive of Gaya, that thorn in his side. Gruffly Umia welcomed them, though his words were traditional and held no sincerity.
Since only Umia had a chair, all except he were forced to stand.
“We are gathered here this morning,” Umia began, “to discuss the threat to Cray of the invader gnostician creatures, with specific reference to the plague of glass that is spreading. Now I have been thinking on this topic, and I have come to the conclusion that some sort of purge would help.”
“Purge?” Rhannan interrupted.
“That is what I said.”
“Has this been discussed with Heraber and Ciswadra?”
Umia found himself irritated by her question. “Of what relevance is that? My methods are my own. These gnosticians I believe to be the menace that has deprived us of our security, since they populate the Earth in its entirety, and are unlike us. This is obvious. The question is, do we actively pursue them or merely banish them from the city? Or is there some other more cunning plan that we might put into operation?”
Rhannan said, “Talk of a purge of gnosticians is indecent. They may appear different to us, but they are harmless enough. Any link with the glass plague would be disputed by my Archive.”