A collection

1

Elisabeth Thornycraft put on her enhancers, focusing on the small image on the copper plate. She took her pinharpers, a special tool that had been invented by her predecessor Benjo Handwarker. It would twist the image ever so slightly in certain places.

The tip of the pinharpers touched the dragnorm of the image, the dragnorm being the point where the image began. A term as old as the craft. The image was what they called a boginner image. It could change things in the wearer’s life. For example, removing all rubbish from the bathroom or exchanging a lover for another lover. Some of the oldest images, the classics (which was called notiskatte by professionals) – were really dangerous. One of them had removed the moon, making the evening sky dark and ominous. The boginner responsible for this horror – Cottocal Mani – was seldom referred to by that name, because the terror the event had imprinted on the world was still felt now 143 years later. People used a shadow name if they had to mention it: Bolsnort.

The pinharpers touched the last point, the sist, and the image started humming. From the dragnorm a small noiter ran all the way to the sist and the boginner lighted up. She broke a sweat. This was not a simple boginner. It would be known as one of the greatest, she was sure. It would become a notiskatte.

If the world survived.

2

The holy book lay silently but gravely in his lab, while he moved deliberately and solemnly, as if everything he did were choreographed and staged.

“You have,” he began, “because of your all‑too‑free mind, done damage beyond repair. You have forced our hands. You have made it impossible not to act. Decency demands it. The harmony of our community demands it. Demands that we must commit a violation of the text. Demands that we must break rules. Demands that we must punish, even though this book,” his hand padded the black book, “demands mercy, demands freedom for all. By using that word about the wife of the master of the house of commerce, Mr Colstad, you have forced us, pushed us – Elisabeth.”

3

Elisabeth Thornycraft sat by the sea. Seagulls hovered in a large flock down the coast as fish waste from the fishing boats was being thrown overboard. They moved in slow motion, ever attentive to each other’s movements, constantly on the lookout for one of the others to pounce on the appetising meal while the men were still working to unload the ship. Despite their dislike for each other, they moved as if they were one large, floating animal.

Elisabeth painted over the letters of the holy book with white acrylic paint so she could write that word. The word that was not to be spoken – especially not about Mr Colstad’s wife.

It was early evening, and the moon stood high in the sky.