Smoke and Iron (The Great Library #4)(10)

That was a neat checkmate of a move, though Jess had never imagined an ambassador who could move with the quiet skill of a criminal. He’d always thought they came with escorts of rattling guards.

What do you need? Alvaro asked when Jess hesitated. Who else to contact for you?

This was another conundrum, but Jess only spared it a second’s hesitation before he signed back a response. Elsinore Quest. Mesmer.

I will find her.

Him.

Ah. Fine. To come here?

No. Tell him to intercept me the next time I’m taken to the Serapeum. Jess hesitated. He’ll require payment. A large one.

Alvaro gracefully waved that aside. I trust you to repay all debts. Why a Mesmer?

Only a feeling, really, but he had the definite feeling that the next interview with the Archivist would be far, far more difficult, and Elsinore Quest had a skill set that might come in quite handy. But Alvaro didn’t need to know that. Not important, Jess signed back.

Alvaro doubted that, clearly, but he shrugged and let it go. Anyone else?

Red Ibrahim. Smuggler.

The ambassador cocked his head, clearly not recognizing the name. Why would he? Royals and the smuggling royalty almost certainly didn’t share social circles. When Jess spread his hands, not sure how to indicate an impasse, Alvaro nodded and signed, Then I will find him.

Criminal, Jess signed, with a little extra emphasis. Funny, this was one of the first words that Dario had taught him. Be careful. Dangerous.

The ambassador waved that away with airy disregard. Too noble and too arrogant to believe he could be at risk himself, Jess thought; he’d spent too much time being respected for his birth and station in life. Dario had been forced to learn his limits. Maybe this Santiago would as well.

Just don’t die, Jess thought. He’d hate to have that on his conscience and, perhaps just as important, lose his only real ally. He’d have to thank Dario later for setting this up. That would be unpleasant, but credit was due: his noble friend had thought of a sideways move where he’d only been looking straight ahead.

Dario kept reminding him that this was a game of chess, and he was annoyingly right.

Alvaro was watching him expectantly. Anyone else? he signed, and Jess shook his head. He had few enough people to trust now, and the tighter the circle he drew, the better. Not even Alvaro could get into the Iron Tower.

When you speak to Red Ibrahim, remember to say that I am Brendan, Jess replied, twisting his fingers around the spelling of his brother’s name and nearly botching it, but the meaning must have come across because Alvaro nodded briskly, stepped forward, and offered his hand for a silent shake. The ambassador inclined his head at a precise, regal angle, gave Jess a smile that was a copy of Dario’s confident/arrogant expression, and walked directly to the door. When he saw Jess’s frown, he smiled even wider.

The Archivist relies too much on his Obscurists. There are alchemical scripts all over this house. Every word you say will be transcribed into the record. Remember that. I’ll have people watching the door at all times. They’ll convey a message if you sign to them. Trust no one else.

With that, he opened the door and strolled out, bold as brass. Jess walked as far as the entrance but remembered the bracelet on his wrist, the one he couldn’t remove. They’d tethered him in place quite effectively. Alvaro had no such restriction.

Jess watched him calmly walk away, and within a few steps, men glided out from the shadows and corners to surround him. Alvaro had an expert personal guard, one that many kings would envy.

There was no sign of the promised watchers from the Library. Perhaps they’d been drawn away, or bought off.

And what now?

Jess had no answers.

He waited for half an hour, then an hour. He lit the chemical glows throughout the small living space and examined every corner, drawer, and inch of it before he poured himself a glass of water from the kitchen tap and sat down at the table. There was a Codex provided, and a shelf of Blanks. At the very least they’d given him that. He could request any book from the Archives, and it would be mirrored into the Blank, and he’d have something to read.

Except, of course, that Brendan probably wouldn’t do that. Brendan didn’t read for pleasure, only for purpose. In many ways, it was going to be the most difficult part of carrying off this impersonation.

Jess compromised and called up anything on the subject of censorship. The first entry was an obscure treatise written by a Scholar named Liburn on the absolute necessity to restrict the reading material of the general public—apparently, too much reading, and reading too widely, could cause people to aspire above their station. Women, especially, were considered vulnerable to an “excess of learning.” It was a rank piece of ignorance. He thought about Khalila Seif and the crisp opinion she’d have on that, and shook his head as he wiped the text and tried to think of something else, anything else, that his brother might read.

While the page of the Blank was clear, a curious thing happened: a new section of handwriting appeared. He didn’t notice at first; he was intent on searching through the list of approved texts on the Codex. But when he glanced over, he immediately recognized the hand that had written the words.

She didn’t give her name, no doubt in case anyone else should see this, and he had no idea at all how she was able to make her message appear not in a Codex, where it properly should go, but in a Blank, where as far as he was aware, it ought to be impossible.