Smoke and Iron (The Great Library #4)(55)

Khalila wiped her tears with shaking hands. “I told you what I saw. I will swear to it under any oath you say. You may question me as much as you like; I will tell you the truth: I saw the Black Archives burn on the Archivist’s command. There is no greater sin than—”

“What you are saying is heresy!” That was from the librarian who’d been hiding in the back but who pushed forward now. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed, and she leveled a pointing finger at Khalila. “You and your friends, you betrayed the Library. You abandoned your posts. And you’ve been declared outlaws and enemies! You took refuge in a Burner city, of all places! Why should we believe anything you have to say, especially when you claim the Black Archives actually exist?”

“Have you never had a doubt?” Khalila ignored the librarian, because now she focused on the High Garda captain. “Have you never been given an order you thought was wrong? Never arrested people without understanding what they’d done to deserve it? Never seen Scholars vanish, their work mysteriously gone? I’ve seen the prison under Rome. I’ve seen how the Library treats those it fears.”

He didn’t reply, but she could see the flicker in his gaze. She’d hit a mark—how deeply, was the question.

“Is Captain Santi still alive?” he asked.

“Yes. Do you know him?”

“I did.”

“Do you respect him?”

“I did before.”

“You still should. He has never compromised his beliefs.”

“He’s in open rebellion against the Great Library!”

“No. He is seeking to spread the knowledge that has been denied to us by generations of Archivists. He seeks, as I do, to preserve the ideals of the Library, from which we’ve long ago strayed. We seek to bring the light of knowledge back to what is now a dark room. And I came here to ask for your help.”

Murasaki stirred. “We cannot support rebels.”

“I am not asking that at all,” she said. “I’m asking that you preserve this place. Use it as it was always meant to be used. Open it. Don’t listen to the orders of the Great Library, which tell you that the people around you are your enemies, that we are your enemies, that the king of Spain stands outside to destroy everything you love; he doesn’t want to do that. He wants to see this place remain exactly as it is.” She turned back to the High Garda. “Are your orders to advance on Madrid?”

He didn’t answer for a long moment, and then he said, “Not yet. First, our orders are to find you, Santi, and the others and send you through the Translation Chamber to Alexandria, where you’ll be held for trial.”

“None of us will get a trial,” she said. “I’ve seen the orders. Glain is to be killed immediately. Santi and I, we would be sent to join the prisoners for the Feast of Greater Burning, where my father, brothers, and uncle are already imprisoned. And Thomas—Thomas will be made to work for them until they decide he’s of no use anymore. And none of us will be remembered. No journals of our lives. No mention of our works. We will vanish . . . like the books of the Black Archives.”

None of them spoke. She took in a deep breath. “I pledge this to you: I will die here in this place before I let anyone, anyone, plunder this beautiful library. And King Ramón Alfonse knows that.”

“Brave words, Scholar,” said the High Garda captain. “But all it takes is a single shot to kill you, and your promise means nothing. Spain stands at our gates with troops ready to take this building. Are you asking us to trust that the king will hold back out of the goodness of his heart?” He shook his head. “I’m not in the business of taking the word of a young woman barely out of training on the motives of a man she doesn’t even know.”

“If I can sign Spain to a new treaty, will you break with the Archivist?”

There was a moment of silence, and then Murasaki said, “You mean, break with the Library.”

“No. I mean the Archivist. Because we mean to replace him. The Library will live on. Your vow is to the Library. Does it matter to you who sits in that office?”

“It might,” she said. “It might a great deal. And you cannot guarantee that the one who takes his place won’t be as bad, or worse. Can you?”

“Scholar Murasaki, I can promise you that you will be part of that choice.” It was a rash promise, but Murasaki was a widely respected Scholar, one who had refused a post on the Curia to take leadership of the Cadiz Serapeum. We could hardly find a better, more impartial person to take the Archivist’s robes, if it comes to that. “You are a woman of great standing and reputation. If you join with us, if you believe in our cause—”

“You can’t trust the word of the Spanish king,” said the librarian who’d pushed forward. Khalila didn’t recognize her, and there was something about her that put her on edge; the glittery eagerness of the woman’s eyes, the tense set of her shoulders. “Kings lie. They’ll promise peace, and as soon as they have the chance, they’ll loot this sacred place and kill us all. We can never trust these power-hungry savages; surely you know that, Scholar . . .”

“I come from what some call power-hungry savages,” Murasaki said evenly. “And I know King Ramón Alfonse very well. He will not willingly destroy one of the jewels of his kingdom unless we force him to do so. Our lives and our books are safe; Scholar Seif is quite correct. The question is, will the High Garda obey commands to retrieve these fugitives and send them to Alexandria? Or will the High Garda choose to do as it is sworn, and guard this place against any harm?”