Gutenberg slid the pen back into his pocket. “Do you think I was the first to attempt to build an organization like Die Zwelf Portenære? There were many guilds and circles of magic-users throughout the world. Some were only too happy to join with me. Others viewed the Porters as a group of impertinent upstarts with no respect for the laws of magic who threatened the proper order.”
“It sounds like you threatened more than ‘the proper order.’” My throat was dry. Provoking Gutenberg was near the top of my list of stupid ideas, just below throwing snowballs at a wendigo.
“The Archbishop Adolph von Nassau was the first to challenge me. He sent his soldiers to burn my press when he learned what I could do. Two of my apprentices died in the blaze. I would have been killed as well if not for the protection I gained from the grail. This was no ordinary fire, Isaac. The flames were alive, sent by magic. After five hundred years, I can still see the smoke pouring forth, like the black breath of hell itself.” He shrank inward. “I pulled Peter from the fire, but I was unable to save him.”
He brushed his sleeves, visibly regaining his composure. “That was the first of many such attacks. We were at war. My discovery meant the mastery of magic was no longer limited to a handful of individuals. Hundreds, even thousands now had the potential to use such power, and to challenge those who once thought themselves untouchable.” He pursed his lips in amusement. “The great conquistador Juan Ponce de Leon took particular offense at my presumption, at least in the beginning.”
“Your discovery?” I pressed.
He inclined his head in acknowledgment. “Bi Sheng crafted a primitive form of book magic. I took libriomancy to its full potential.”
“Bi Sheng’s ‘primitive’ magic preserved his followers for five hundred years,” Lena pointed out.
He waved her comment off with a sharp gesture. “The original twelve Porters were under constant assault. Some campaigns were waged through rumor and gossip, seeking to destroy our reputations in both the magical and the mundane worlds. Other practitioners arrived to challenge us directly. The only way to prove the legitimacy of my art was to accept and defeat all such challenges.”
“Bi Wei never challenged you,” I said quietly. “She knew nothing of Porters or European libriomancy. Her ancestor’s magic showed her the stars, and you sent your automatons to kill her.”
“Did she tell you about the 
?”
The words translated to “dark afflictions.” I shook my head.
“They were similar to Victor’s insects in some respects. The are small creatures of folded paper, made from the pages of books penned by Bi Sheng’s students. They stowed away on Portuguese trading vessels and eventually made their way to Germany. They came during the night, cutting flesh so cleanly their victims never even stirred. The wounds resisted magical healing. I watched five of my students suffer for weeks, their wounds turning septic.” He unbuttoned his vest and the top of his shirt, then pulled back the collar to display a thin purple scar over his shoulder. “Even I never fully healed.”
“Earlier this year, a former Porter enslaved and destroyed vampires. Should the rest of the vampires retaliate against all Porters, like you did with Bi Sheng’s followers?”
“It’s easy to stand in judgment,” Gutenberg said softly, “from the luxury of the magical peace and security I provided. And perhaps you’re right. Ponce de Leon thought as you did, and it’s true I’ve made mistakes. But while you stand there self-righteously condemning my choices and actions from five hundred years ago, August Harrison and his followers prepare for war. I suggest you reconsider your priorities, Isaac.”
He righted a table and began gathering books. I waited without speaking until he vanished into the history section, then hurried to grab my things from behind the desk. I pulled Bi Wei’s book out of my bag and shoved it into a file drawer, behind a bulging folder of old library card applications.
By the time Gutenberg returned with more books, I was standing at the front of the library looking through the ragged opening at the Porters talking to Lizzie Pascoe. As I watched, she smiled and invited them into the barbershop.
“Whatever remains of Bi Wei’s mind now shares a body with the devil itself.” Gutenberg sighed, and for a moment, I saw not the most powerful libriomancer in the world, but an old man, exhausted from burdens he had carried for centuries. “This isn’t a war between Porters and Bi Sheng’s descendants, Isaac. Do you think the Ghost Army will stop with the Porters? You’ve felt their hunger. They will devour everything.” He pointed outside to the broken dragon. “And they will begin with Copper River.”
18
Every religion I’ve studied has laws or commandments against killing.
Historically, humanity has shown tremendous creativity in finding every possible loophole, rationalization, and justification to ignore those commandments.
Animals kill for food, and to protect their territory, which suggests killing can be a normal, natural part of life. But humans are civilized. They’ve supposedly moved beyond mere instinct. Yes, animals kill. They also eat their young, but if you suggest a human mother do the same, people tend to react poorly. Animals will happily interbreed with their siblings as well, but that’s frowned upon among humans. (Though some of them do it anyway, and many others fantasize about it.) The behavior of animals does not provide moral justification for human beings to do the same.
Is killing ever a moral choice? What if the personal decision to avoid inflicting harm leads to a greater evil? Countless writers have penned tales of traveling back in time to kill Hitler. Would such a murder be right if it prevented millions of other deaths?
Isn’t doing nothing while a vampire attacks my loved one a greater crime than destroying the vampire? Both choices lead to death. One choice stops a killer.
In The Fellowship of the Ring, Gandalf praised the pity of Bilbo Baggins in sparing Gollum, despite Gollum’s evil nature. As it turned out, that choice saved all of Middle Earth in the end. But then, it’s easy to present simple answers to ethical questions when you’re the one shaping the story. What of those times when Gandalf rode his moral high horse into battle, helping to kill countless orcs and goblins?
Gollum was a victim of the ring, corrupted and twisted. The vampire is diseased, driven by maddening thirst and inhuman urges. And I…given a cruel enough lover, I could become a creature much worse than any of them. Can I judge and kill others for acts I have the same potential to commit?
I’ve killed before. To defend myself and those I love. Was that the right choice, or simply the easy one?
The day Kawaljeet Sarna began teaching me Indian stick fighting, he began with a simple lesson: Prevent, Practice, Protect.
Prevent conflict when you can. Avoid the enemy. Diffuse their anger. Take their mental balance, and search for peaceful resolution.
Practice confrontation. Learn to deescalate the conflict, to dampen the flames instead of adding fuel. Seek peace, even in battle.
Protect yourself and those unable to defend themselves. When possible, protect your opponent as well. Protect your physical self, but also your mental and emotional selves.