Paper and Fire (The Great Library #2)(40)

Then he’d set up at a table all his own, and sell the real beauties to true collectors.

The Alexandrian market was nothing like that, of course; there were no tunnels here, or if there were, Jess had never found them, except for sewer drains. It meant that the Alexandrian smugglers had to be even cleverer and a good deal bolder.

He found Red Ibrahim’s daughter, Anit, minding a table. There was absolutely nothing on it, not even a hint of what was for sale; everyone knew it was a matter of requests and fees, not options. She looked up at him as he approached and gave him a calm look. “I have nothing else for you,” she said. “I heard about your adventures at Alexander’s tomb. Clever of you to escape.”

“Clever had help,” he said, and handed her a paper drawing of a sphinx, and the location of the switch he’d found. “In memory of your brothers, Anit. Thank you.”

She said nothing for a moment, just stared at the page hard, then folded it up and slipped it into a pocket of her skirt. “You’re not negotiating for this?”

“No.”

She pulled the chain from beneath the neck of her dress and held the embossed ring that hung on it like a talisman. “Then I’m in your debt.”

“If you mean that, there’s something you could do for me. I’m trying to locate someone who can tell me about the fate of a boy who was arrested at Ptolemy House about six months ago, taken to the Serapeum, and questioned. I want to find out where he was sent after that.”

Anit sat back in her chair. “This is not what we do, Jess Brightwell. We sell books. Not information.” Then she looked down, and said quietly, “But I will ask.”

He nodded and almost walked away . . . but then came back, leaned over the table, and said, “Be careful how you go. I don’t want to bring anything down on you.”

She actually laughed like a little girl. Genuinely amused. “My father is the most wanted man in all of Alexandria; I am quite used to being careful. But thank you for your concern.”

She was right, of course—not that it made him feel any better about having involved her.

Then he went about his real business of the night, to a deserted street on the outskirts of the University district. It held spacious homes built in a modern style, but with bows to Egyptian design and sensibility. Expensive, this area. Well-known for being the home of several prestigious Scholars. There was even a statue of the great inventor Heron on one corner, though, to Jess’s great relief, it was only made of stone and was not an automaton.

He still hesitated in the shadow of Heron’s statue as he studied the house in front of him. It was large and comfortable, with Egyptian fluted columns and red-and gold-painted decoration. A small fountain whispered in the courtyard, sending a little silver mist into the air. It was a private sort of place. He liked it.

Jess moved quietly up the shallow front steps and knocked.

His brother opened the door.

For a moment, they stood there staring at each other—still eerily similar mirror images, even now, though Brendan’s hair had grown long and messy around his face and he’d gained a few pounds. Egyptian life either did not agree with him or agreed with him too much. Hard to say which at the moment.

“You’re supposed to have left town months ago,” Jess said. “Idiot.”

Brendan was wearing a loose silk sleeping robe, and he stepped back, rubbed his face, and said, “Get in before someone sees you.”

Jess stepped into a darkened entry hall. He had the impression of expensive tastes, beautiful decorations and furniture, but it was a strangely empty sort of display, as though an expert decorator had done everything. No real personality to it. And, of course, no books. Not even a Library shelf of Blanks. Brendan wasn’t much of a reader.

“What are you doing here?” Brendan asked. Jess shrugged, and got a hard-eyed glare from his brother in response. “For God’s sake, do you know what time it is, Jess?”

“I’ve passed training,” he said, because he realized he had to say something, and Brendan gave him a disbelieving stare.

“What do you want? Congratulations? A nicely wrapped gift? Weren’t you supposed to be a full Scholar by now?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be back home?” Because Brendan wasn’t supposed to still be in Alexandria. “The last letter from Mother almost seemed worried about you.”

“Almost,” Brendan said. “Well. That’s something.”

A girl of about Jess’s own age appeared in the doorway. She was dressed neatly in a loose white gown belted with gold, and her hair was swept back smoothly in a braided queue. Pretty features, sharp cheekbones, skin the color of blushed copper. She met Brendan’s eyes with remarkable ease to say, “I see you have a visitor. May I bring you anything, sir?”

Brendan said, “Coffee, please, Neksa. Jess?”

“Coffee,” he said. “Thank you.” Jess watched the girl go her way and waited until she was out of earshot before he said, “You know, you don’t have to pretend with me.”

“What?”

“She’s no servant.”

Brendan, to his credit, didn’t give it away if Jess’s observation surprised him. He sat down in a gilt-framed chair with lion-head arms and covered a healthy yawn. “What if she isn’t?”