“Magnus Bane? But- that’s not even a name!”
It is enough. Brother Jeremiah got to his feet. As if this were a signal, the rest of the brothers rose alongside him. They inclined their heads toward Jace, a gesture of silent acknowledgement, before they filed away among the pillars and were gone. Only Brother Jeremiah remained. He watched impassively as Jace hurried over to Clary.
“Is your arm alright? Let me see,” he demanded, seizing her wrist.
“Ouch! It’s fine. Don’t do that, you’re making it worse,” Clary said, trying to pull away.
“You bled on the Speaking Stars,” he said. Clary looked and saw that he was right: There was a smear of her blood on the white and silver marble. “I bet there’s a law somewhere about that.” He turned her arm over, more gently than she would have thought he was capable of. He caught his lower lip between his teeth and whistled; she glanced down and saw that a glove of blood covered her lower arm from the elbow to the wrist. The arm was throbbing, stiff and painful.
“Is this where you start tearing piece of your T-shirt to bind up my wounds?” she joked. She hated the sight of blood, especially her own.
“If you wanted me to rip my clothes off, you should’ve just asked.” He dug into his pocket and brought out his stele. “It would have been a lot less painful”.
Remembering the stinging sensation when the stele had touched her wrist, she braced herself, but all she felt as the glowing instrument glided lightly over her injury was a faint warmth. “There,” he said, straightening up. Clary flexed her arm in wonder- though the blood was still there, the wound was gone, as were the pain and stiffness. “And next time you’re planning to injure yourself to get my attention, just remember that a little sweet talk works wonders.”
Clary felt her mouth twitch into a smile. “I`ll keep that in mind,” she said and as he turned away, she added, “And thanks.”
He slid the stele into his back pocket without turning to look at her, but she thought she saw a certain gratification in the set of his shoulders. “Brother Jeremiah” he said, rubbing his hands together, “you’ve been very quiet all this time. Sure you have some thought you’d like to share?”
I am charged with leading you from the Silent City, and that is all, said the archivist. Clary wondered if she were imaging it, or if there was actually a faintly affronted tone to his “voice”.
“We could always show ourselves out,” Jace suggested hopefully. “I`m remember the way-”
The marvels of the Silent City are not for the eyes of the uninitiated, said Jeremiah, and turned his back on them with a soundless swish of robes. This way.
When they emerged into the open, Clary took deep breaths of the thick morning air, the city stench of smog, dirt, and humanity. Jace looked around thoughtfully. “It’s going to rain,” he said.
He was right, Clary thought, looking up at the iron-gray sky. “Are we taking a carriage back to the institute?”
Jace looked from Brother Jeremiah, still as a statue, to the carriage, looming like a black shadow in the archway that led to the street. The he broke into a grin.
“No way,” he said. “I hate those things. Let’s hail a cab.”
– Page 197,198.
The Mortal Instruments – city of bones Book 1.