Smoke and Iron (The Great Library #4)(83)

Downstairs, he found most of the others gathered in a small library; it was richly decorated, and the chair Jess sank into with a sigh was the most comfortable thing he could imagine. His aching body craved sleep, but comfort would have to do for now.

When he took a seat, everyone stopped talking and stared at him. “What?” he asked.

Dario shook his head. “I’m still amazed you’re alive,” he said. “You are an unbelievably good liar, Jess. Better than I would have imagined, if you survived this long. I find that your best quality.”

“Shut up, peacock,” Jess said. “If you have a best quality, I’m still struggling to find it.”

“Boys,” Glain said. “Don’t make me separate you. By which I mean, heads from bodies. We’ve gotten this far. Stop squabbling about the size of your—”

“Glain!” Khalila said.

“Talents,” Glain finished. Her voice softened. “Have you talked to your brother?”

“No,” Jess said. “He doesn’t want to talk.”

“How do you know?”

“Twins,” Jess said. “I don’t want to, either, and I didn’t just watch the girl I loved . . .” His voice trailed off, because suddenly he imagined Morgan in Neksa’s place, and the spear driving through her body into the floor. Her blood warm on his hands.

“Mein Gott, Jess, is that what happened?” Thomas leaned forward, and the large armchair he sat in creaked as if struggling under the strain. “Were you there? What happened?”

It was an innocent question, but Jess suddenly felt even more tired. “The Archivist had her killed,” he said. “By an automaton. No reason except to make a point. I thought we were next.” As soon as he said it, he knew that was true. He’d been pushing that awareness away all this time, had denied it while he’d been on his knees in front of the Archivist, but, yes. He and Brendan had been on the raw edge of death, close enough to feel it. And see it. A shudder worked through him, and he closed his eyes. “I think my brother truly cared for her. So I don’t know, Thomas. I don’t know how he is now. I just know he doesn’t want to talk about it.” And neither do I, he thought, but didn’t say. Thomas was a good enough friend to know it.

He opened his eyes when he felt Khalila take his hand. She didn’t speak, and for that he was grateful. They all sat in silence for a while, before Glain, always to the point, said, “How safe are we here?”

“On a scale of absolutely to not at all?” Dario shrugged. “Somewhat, for now. My cousin’s a good man, and he’ll do what he can to help us, but he is at the mercy of my other cousin. The royal one. And if the Archivist decides to expel all ambassadors from the city, as he might . . .” He raised a hand and let it drop. “It’s possible he could evacuate us along with his staff. But that hardly gets us closer to our goal.”

“Maybe our goal can’t be reached without an army,” Glain said. “Didn’t you clever foxes think of that? Or did you expect to simply trick the Archivist into writing his own execution order?”

“Now, there’s a thought,” Dario said. Glain sent him a dark look. “But not a serious one. We have the start of an army, don’t we? Santi’s company is here, with us. And Santi’s sent messages to other captains he trusts. Add them up, and . . .”

“We have enough to lose, and badly,” Thomas said. “Alexandria can be taken. The Serapeum? From all I’ve seen and heard, that would be much, much harder. The Curia has only to seal themselves inside it and wait. The remaining High Garda forces, the automata . . . these can’t be overcome for long.”

“You’re right,” Jess said. “I’ve been in and out of the Archivist’s office several times since I’ve been here, and each time, I entered and left different ways. The hallways move. The entire pyramid is a vast clockwork that the Archivist can reorder anytime he wishes. It’s a deathtrap for an invasion. They could hold it forever, and we’d be cut to pieces.”

“What’s the mood in the city?” Khalila asked. She stood up and poured herself a cup of water from a pitcher sitting nearby, and Jess followed suit. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was until he saw her drinking it. It tasted clear, pure, and wonderfully cool. “Scholar Murasaki in Cadiz has been contacting senior Scholars all over the world, and her word is certainly influential. More and more outposts of the Great Library are declaring themselves neutral and refusing to allow High Garda soldiers through their Translation Chambers. It makes things much more complicated for the Archivist if he has to move troops slowly, through foreign lands and waters. Especially now, with more countries abandoning the treaty every day.”

“Unsettled,” Jess said. “But the news isn’t reaching people here of much of that, and what is, is being dismissed as panic and rumor. The Burners are spreading word, though, and recruiting on it. And they have presses to print up their messages; Red Ibrahim must have installed a few across the city already. Have you spoken to him?”

“Not exactly,” Khalila said, when no one else volunteered. “We left that relationship at a bit of an awkward point, in that Red Ibrahim wanted to sell us to the Archivist, and we did not wish to be sold. I don’t think Anit took it personally. Why, haven’t you spoken to him?”