Paper and Fire (The Great Library #2)(63)
Troll suddenly stepped up to Jess’s side, then moved past him to lean over Dario’s shoulder. “Did you have something to say about your feelings toward the High Garda, Scholar?”
Dario looked up, and his natural arrogance came out in a smirk that Jess wanted to punch. “The High Garda has its place,” he said, and looked pointedly at Troll’s boots. “That place is not here, blocking my light.”
“Perhaps you should allow my assistants to proceed with their tasks,” the Artifex said, and sat back. He picked up his coffee once more. “You’re dismissed, both of you. Thank you for your service.”
Troll snapped a salute that wasn’t at all necessary—the Artifex wasn’t generally entitled to salutes—and strode away. Jess followed, minus the honor; he wasn’t about to give the man more credit than he was due, even if it was interpreted as an insult.
“Unbelievable,” Troll said. “Did you hear that? ‘Thank you for your service’—as if he cared. He didn’t even reprimand that arrogant puppy Scholar. You came through postulant class with Santiago? Impressive. I’d have thrown the smug bastard off a bridge halfway through the first day.”
“I’d have helped,” Jess said. “He’s smart, though. Worse, he’s clever.”
“The other one seemed nice enough.”
“Khalila Seif is the smartest person in this room.”
“A good friend to have, then. Not to mention attractive,” Troll said. “You wouldn’t mind if I struck up a conversation?”
“I wouldn’t. Dario might.”
“I was afraid of that. Too bad. Killing him would wipe out my good conduct today.”
“Don’t hold back on my account,” Jess said, but his mind was elsewhere. That display from Santiago had been classic, but it had also been out of place; the young Spaniard hadn’t given him that particularly sour reception since their first days with Wolfe. They weren’t exactly the best of friends, but they weren’t enemies. Or, at least, they hadn’t been when last they’d spoken.
Either something had changed for Dario or Dario was trying to tell him something. Dario and Khalila, working together. Had they planned to be here? No, surely not, or Khalila would have found time to warn him. The Artifex made it sound as if they’d asked to be added to his staff, but somehow, Jess doubted that; they’d applied, certainly, but he’d heard nothing of either being accepted. They’d been given no choice, and no time to tell anyone.
Rome’s roots go so deep, Khalila had said, and veiled it in a cloud of compliments. Dario had added his own clues: The feet of its moldy old gods. And tunnel.
Maybe, just maybe, they were trying to tell him they’d found something. A way into the prison.
Jess sat down at the squad’s crowded table, but he hardly saw their faces or heard the chatter. His thoughts were far away, locked on possibilities. On an insane and desperate possibility.
We’re all here now except for Wolfe and Morgan, he thought. Thomas’s rescue was almost within their reach. If Khalila and Dario really had discovered a way in, that was all they needed—an advantage. Get Thomas, get out, disappear.
Glain was staring at him from across the table, clearly worried. She waited for a few moments, smiling and talking to others, and then moved to a seat next to him when one became vacant. She bent close and said, “I saw. Khalila and Dario.”
“I think they may have information that can help with Thomas—”
“Jess. We’re all here because he wants us here,” Glain whispered. “The Artifex can’t touch Wolfe directly because of his mother, but us? Getting rid of us will isolate Wolfe. Destroy him.”
She was right. He’d been looking down the wrong end of the telescope.
This wasn’t a chance for them to rescue a friend.
It was a threat to kill them all.
The rest of Santi’s company arrived by ship the next morning. As early arrivals, Blue Squad got their pick of spots in the barracks built on the secured side of the basilica—which was, Jess realized, far larger than he’d ever imagined. An enormous building on a truly monumental scale, though only two stories in height. It took nearly an hour to walk from one end to the other, and that was at a brisk pace. A solid two hours, then, to travel both floors end to end.
Not even Egypt built on such a scale.
Most of the Library’s side of the basilica was a warren of offices and laboratories, with long, straight halls running the length of the structure. Jess began a map while he waited for the lights to dim and his squad mates to fall asleep. He planned to slip away once it was quiet and the snoring started, but the comfort of the bunk and the stress of the long days before pulled him down fast.
He woke up hard at the touch of a hand on his arm and found himself reaching for a knife with the speed of the criminal he’d once been . . . But he stopped when the scent of the girl crouched next to his bunk hit him. A light cinnamon perfume with a hint of dark amber. He connected that to Khalila even before her whisper said, “Quietly. Come.”
Jess slipped out of his bunk, pulled on a pair of uniform trousers and a loose black shirt, put his boots on without bothering to tie them, and followed the drifting sweep of her dress through the shadows to the hallway. She hardly made a sound, and for a strong moment he wondered if he was wrong; maybe this wasn’t Khalila. Maybe it was a vengeful Roman ghost whispering down the hallway, leading him to some terrible death.