Smoke and Iron (The Great Library #4)(19)

“You’ve taken too much of Wolfe’s judgment to heart. I’ve been a professional soldier all my life, and I can only think of half a dozen I’d pick to have by my side in a brawl. You’re in that number.”

Glain, Khalila thought, looked as though she’d been sweet-talked by a lover. Her eyes sparkled. Her cheeks blushed. She craved a good fight the way most yearned for love or money. “I’m honored,” Glain said. “And thankful you all came to my defense. I’ll return the favor, anytime.”

“We know,” Dario said. He looked at Santi. “Will they try it again?”

“We’re not giving them a chance, because we’re going to take this ship.” Santi unrolled a rough map, hand drawn but to Khalila’s eye highly accurate; it showed the ocean, the coast of Spain, and the opposing coastline, with Alexandria marked by the Horus eye symbol of the Great Library. Cadiz, he’d marked with a star. “We’re off the coast of Portugal now, making for the Strait of Gibraltar; the ship’s sailing into the teeth of the storm because there’s no alternative, and Anit’s been given some deadline to meet. The storm helps us; it keeps the majority of her crew at their posts and makes communication more difficult. But she’ll be on her guard for it, too. Anit’s locked herself into the bridge with her captain and officers. They’re armed, and we’re not. In less than a day, we’re sailing past Cadiz and headed for the entrance to the strait. We’ll lose our opportunity.”

“Weapons?” Glain asked.

“All the pistols and rifles are locked in a cabinet on the bridge.”

“And the locks?” Dario asked.

“Jess might have been able to pick them, but I don’t think any of us could. Morgan might have been able to do something with an Obscurist power, but we don’t have that, either.”

“Is there a workshop on this ship?” Thomas asked.

“I suppose. Why?”

“I can find us weapons,” he said. “Nothing with bullets—they won’t be so careless—but they will have other things I can adapt. Explosives, possibly. Welding tools. All these can be useful.”

“Right,” Santi said. “Dario, you go with—”

“I’m the only one uninjured,” Khalila said. “I’ll go with him. Together, we can work faster.”

“My flower, do you know even the slightest thing about workshops?” Dario asked her, which was patronizing enough to make her send him a sharp, dangerous look.

“My uncle was a Library inventor for thirty years, and I apprenticed with him,” she said. “When you call me flower, you imply I can’t fight. We both know that’s untrue. With a sword, I am far better than you.”

Dario winced. Good. Knocking him back occasionally would keep him at least a little humbled. “I retract the insult, however I meant it,” he said. “Though I’d feel better if I came with you.”

“No. Glain?”

“Happy to assist,” Glain said. “I was starting to feel useless sitting here. Besides, if you’re making weapons, Thomas, best you have someone to test them out for you.”

“No,” Khalila said. “You’re still at risk.”

“And to take me, they’ll need to overpower the two of you. Not bloody likely. Besides, I’m not drugged, and I’m not going down without taking them with me.”

Thomas nodded. He didn’t seem displeased. He usually didn’t, when Glain was near. Khalila suspected he admired the young woman a great deal more than he was willing to show, especially considering that Glain herself showed no interest whatsoever in any romantic partners of any gender. In any case, they made a good team, the three of them.

That left only Dario and Santi together, which worried her; both could take care of themselves, of course, but Dario’s ribs were bandaged, and the captain looked battered. She exchanged a look with him, but the captain only nodded. “Go,” he said. “And, Scholar? We all need to agree on engagement rules.”

“I think we know what they are,” she said. “We are in this to the end now. There is only one engagement level, though I prefer not to use fatal force when less will do, and to use threats when force is not necessary. Diplomacy when that will suffice most of all. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” he said, and smiled tightly.

It was only later that she wondered just when Santi—and all the others—had agreed that she was in charge. And when she had become so comfortable with the idea.



* * *





The workshop proved to be a toy box for Thomas, full of scrap metal he quickly sharpened for them into crude—but deadly—daggers and swords. “The edges won’t last long,” he warned them as they tested the balance and weight of the blades. “I could make properly done ones if we had a day or so. But they will do for short, dirty fighting.”

“My favorite,” Glain said, and slipped one of the daggers into her belt, then another into her boot. “Any chance of a projectile weapon?”

“No. Everything I could reconfigure would require smithing, and we don’t have time. I considered the riveters, but they’re too heavy for our purposes, and tethered with steam hoses.”

“Still not impossible,” Glain said, and tried the weight of the rivet driver. Khalila doubted she herself could have managed it, but in Glain’s hands, it looked quite at home. “There were two connectors on the bulkhead outside of the bridge. One must be for steam. I’ll chance it.”