Paper and Fire (The Great Library #2)(30)
“No need, because we don’t have one. Wouldn’t, even if it had nothing to do with Thomas. I lost one soldier for good and another to serious injury. I almost lost a Scholar. That was Feng’s point to me today: how poorly I’d performed, and how much of a favor it would be for him to recommend me for advancement. If I accept that favor, he’ll own me. Nothing’s worth that.” It hurt her to say it—Jess knew that—but he saw no sign of it in her expression. Tough girl, Glain. And now she faced losing her dreams, and did it with the same courage as always.
He felt a tug of deep respect for her in that moment. Perhaps even a little love.
“At least we’ll be able to meet with Khalila and Dario easily, if we’re not constantly on duty.”
Her eyebrows rose. “You want to put me face-to-face with Dario? I might have to punch him before I trust him.”
“You can trust him.” At her look, he shrugged. “I know. Still surprises me, too.”
Glain sat back with a creak of wood and crossed her arms. She was out of uniform now, in a simple loose white shirt over formfitting trousers, with the same boots she always seemed to favor. If she’s lost her place, she’s lost her world, Jess thought. “You know, our odds are so bad as to be worthless. You and me, Khalila, Dario, Wolfe, Santi—if we can rely on Santi, who’ll have to choose his own loyalties—against the Library? It’s ridiculous.”
She was right. Even corrupted, the Library still commanded the absolute loyalty of tens of thousands of good men and women, and had the reverence of billions. That was a testament to what it should be, though. Not what it was. That was the dream that Jess loved, really—the dream of the Library as a shining beacon of knowledge to the world.
But a light that cast so many shadows.
“It’s getting late,” Glain said, which jerked him out of his musings and, as he blinked, back to the cool evening of the room. Dinnertime was fast approaching. “You’ll talk to Dario? About the Black Archives?”
“I will.” He groaned as he stood. His body was sore again, and all the older bruises and cuts clamored for attention. “Are you going to the dining hall?”
Glain smiled very briefly. It was a rare enough event, and it made her almost human. Almost pretty. “Are you asking to escort me, like some girl you’re romancing? Jess. Don’t waste your time. I’m extremely unavailable.”
“Tragic,” he shot back. “Be serious. You know I’ve got—”
“Morgan,” she finished for him, when he stopped. “Yes. You do enjoy a challenge. Now she’s a princess locked in a tower. That makes you want her even more, doesn’t it? I think you’ve read too many tales of knighthood, Jess.”
That effectively silenced him while he processed the words; a flush of anger ran through him, followed by a chill of something like understanding. Was that why he loved Morgan? Because of the challenge? He couldn’t deny that it might be a part of it. Damn Glain and her sharp eyes. Challenge and guilt.
“I’m not saying that because I’m jealous,” Glain continued, still with that maddening, calm smile. “You and me? No. Agreed?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now there’s no confusion.”
How like Glain, to take action to dispel any uncertainty that might exist, however awkward that might be. The cold blast of it was shocking, but it did clear the air.
“Remind me never to be polite to you again,” he said, and she laughed this time, came around, and draped a comrade’s arm around his shoulders.
“Of course I will.”
Days passed, and other squads finished their final tests. Recruits were dismissed or assigned to new duties, and their wing of the barracks emptied and filled with another quota of aspiring High Garda soldiers.
But there was no word on their future. That was worrying, and Jess inquired—carefully—among other soldiers. There were a few examples of squads whose fate had been held in suspense for a while, but only a few, and almost all of those had ended up dismissed. The delays, Jess thought, had to do with debates within the higher ranks.
Maybe Captain Santi was fighting for them. And losing.
Jess was just as glad, because he spent his days chasing down obscure information through the Codex, and nights with Red Ibrahim and Anit, looking through rare volumes for anything that might give small details about what happened to the enemies of the Archivist. What he did find wasn’t heartening; almost everyone accused of heresy was recorded as executed, though those executions were done privately now, rather than as the vast spectacle they’d once been. The Alexandrian prisons that had once existed in the early, brutal days of the Library were long torn down. There might be a few cells beneath the Serapeum, but Khalila’s work had turned up guard rosters, and by matching up those assigned to duties, she’d been able to create a dizzying map of assignments that accounted for every one of the High Garda guards assigned to the Archivist. There would have to be some whose duties remained unaccounted for, if they actually guarded a secret prison.
Wherever Thomas was, he wasn’t being kept in Alexandria.
“We should press Wolfe,” Khalila said as she, Jess, Glain, and Dario sat together in a small café near the water. Twilight dyed the sky a rich teal, though Jess couldn’t much appreciate the beauty. All the information she and Dario had unearthed was proving to be useless. No nuggets of gold had turned up. The inaction drove Jess mad. “Surely he must remember more than he’s telling.”