"And you went to their world to find people to do this, ah restoration?" Anvar persists. "No, it just happened." Inric puts a hand on Copper's nose as the bookwyrm pushes close, looking at what's on the table. "You should change your name," Anvar says, scowling. "It doesn't fit any more. Look." He gestures to the table, to Ffion placing a pan of what smells like tomato soup on the table, Nazarchtharin smiling in utter contentment, Jakin and Maria and Ylva giggling among themselves, and on Inric's left, Magistra Colle sitting back down after fetching bowls for the soup. "It might not be the 'Great Library' yet," Anvar says, "but you can't call it 'Nobody's Library' any more, either." Inric doesn't reply, but he can't help smiling, just a little.