“All right,” he said. “Let me halt production. Then you can come help me at one of the linotypes, and we’ll make the edit.”
“Wait,” Iris breathed. “Has the Gazette gone to print?”
“Not yet. I always print it after the Tribune.”
“Then will you also hold it alongside ours?”
“Iris,” Helena said in a warning tone. “I can’t interfere with another paper’s production.”
“I know,” Iris replied. “But I have an idea. And I’m going to need the Gazette in order to pull it off.”
Helena hesitated, as did Lawrence. It was Tobias who stepped forward, standing next to Iris.
“What does it matter?” he said, raising his hand. “Come tomorrow, this won’t even be something we worry about.”
“You’re right.” Helena reached for a cigarette in her pocket, twirling it in her fingers. “Lawrence?”
He stood there silent, far longer than Iris liked. But then he nodded.
“Fine. I’ll hold both. Which means we’ll be printing papers just before dawn.” Lawrence glanced at Iris, eyes narrowing. “Whatever you have planned for the Gazette better be worth it, Miss Winnow.”
Iris crossed her arms. It had been a long while since her words had been published in the Gazette. She didn’t miss it most days, but every now and then, she would let herself fall back to the nostalgia, when she had been bright-eyed and eager, thinking she would become a columnist at Oath’s prestigious newspaper.
It seemed rather fitting that she would commandeer the Gazette and write for it one final time.
She said, “Of course, Mr. Lawrence. I’m going to use it to tell people how they can find shelter during the bombing.”
* * *
While Helena accompanied Lawrence to the composing room, preparing new slugs for the front page of the Inkridden Tribune, Iris and Tobias sat in the lobby with sheets of paper and pencils, writing down all the magical streets and buildings south of the river they could think of.
It wasn’t as easy as Iris had originally anticipated because she knew the ley lines below didn’t match the streets above perfectly. And while one half of an apartment complex or a building might be safe, there was the chance that the other side wouldn’t be.
Iris rolled the pencil in her hand, staring at the addresses and street names she and Tobias had scribbled down. Some places she was certain of, recalling the map Roman had drawn for her. Other places she knew from experience, like that corner grocery she had often stopped at on her walks home from the Gazette. There was no denying it was an enchanted building with roots on a ley line, whose walls and roof would withstand a bomb. A safe place for people to shelter during the attack. But sometimes magic was softer. More discreet. Sometimes a structure wasn’t as forthright about it, and Iris sighed.
“I don’t want to misguide people,” she said, rubbing her temples. “Claiming a building is safe to shelter in when it might not be.”
Tobias was quiet, studying their list. “I know. But this is going to save more people than you realize, Iris.”
She studied their list again, aching when she thought of how many people lived in the southern half of the city. The university was there, as were both the Gazette and the Tribune. Most of downtown. The Riverside Park. The opera house. The museum.
Iris lived south of the river, as did Attie and Tobias. The places they had grown up, the places they loved. All of it would be broken by Dacre tomorrow.
Iris glanced at the lobby doors. Night was fast approaching.
“You should head home, Tobias,” she said. “I don’t want you to get caught after curfew.”
“What about you and Helena?”
“We’ll be safe here. Thank you for all your help today.”
“Anytime.” He smiled, but he seemed sad. Worried. “I’m going to stop by Attie’s on the way home, to let her and her family know what’s happening, since they’re south of the river.”
Iris nodded. “I was going to walk there first thing tomorrow morning.”
Tobias embraced her in farewell, and Iris felt his words rumble in his chest as he said, “Don’t worry. We’ve gotten through quite a bit, and the last lap of a race is one of the hardest. But we’ll make it through this time.”
If Iris had said the words, she might have struggled to believe them. But Tobias had made the impossible bend like heated metal before, and she found comfort in the thought.
After he left, she gathered up their papers. Greta gave her a pointed look but didn’t stop her when she slipped past her desk to find Lawrence and Helena working at one of the linotypes in the loud composing room.