Almost immediately something was wrong. The flagstones of the floor trembled, seeming to warp and bend suddenly around the hapless book. Then, with astonishing speed, strong hands emerged from the stones. First immediately around the book, then further and further afield until the entire hallway was carpeted by them, swaying faintly. The hands directly around the book snapped shut around it, opening it wide and cracking the binding. The Armoury man winced. The hands went on pulling, more moving in, tearing the book apart. It reminded Whisper of wild dogs with a piece of meat, everything else subsumed in the thrill of violence. Paper flew, leather binding torn to shreds, finely-embossed gold-leafed lettering strewn like confetti.

The War Machine: Chapter Two