Smoke and Iron (The Great Library #4)(89)

“Is there a real Brother Ferdinand?”

“Sometimes,” Alvaro said, without a flicker. “But he’s hardly ever the same person, and no one remembers monks, anyway. The driver of the carriage is a loyal retainer of mine, but I warn you: if you compromise yourselves or are otherwise identified, he’ll have to drive away without you.”

“Understood,” Khalila said. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. I have other news, I’m afraid. I can only extend the safety of this embassy to you until tomorrow morning. I’ve received orders from Madrid. The king has ordered this embassy closed and all of our staff withdrawn; he’s arranged for a ship to be waiting in the harbor to take us to a neutral port. I fear this means he’s planning something more than waiting to see what happens.”

“Meaning?” Wolfe asked.

The ambassador shook his head. “Even if I knew, I couldn’t tell you. My hospitality is one thing. My loyalty is quite another. I tell you this because when you leave the safety of these gates tomorrow, you will have nowhere left to return. I’m sorry for that.”

“You’ve done more than could be expected,” Santi said, and offered his hand. The ambassador took it in a firm shake. “We’re grateful. And if this goes right tomorrow, perhaps the embassy might stay open.”

“Perhaps.” There was something in Alvaro Santiago’s voice that indicated he doubted it, though nothing showed on his face. “May my God and yours hold us close in the hours to come.”

That hung a pall in the air, and Khalila turned to Dario and said, “Well, Brother Ferdinand, we had best be about our business.”

“It’s the Lord’s work,” he said, deadpan, and bowed her through the door.





CHAPTER THIRTY




“Divide and conquer,” Dario said as the carriage rolled through the eerily quiet streets of Alexandria toward the port and along the curving drive that went toward the Lighthouse. “Am I to convince these Scholars to fight, or only to not support the Archivist?”

“You’re not to convince them of anything,” Khalila said, “because I know you, Dario. You will frighten or infuriate them into entirely the wrong thing. Just present the case as I laid it out for you and tell them that they must make their own decision.”

“I don’t like you splitting up,” Glain said. “I can only watch one of you.”

“Half the time will be spent in the open. It’s worth the risk. Naturally, you’ll be watching Khalila,” Dario said. “Brother Ferdinand can take care of himself.”

“And I can’t?” Khalila raised her eyebrows and watched his discomfort grow as he realized the trap he’d put himself inside. “Very well. Glain will stay with me. And you, Brother, had best carry your God as your sword and shield.”

“Or this,” Dario said, and eased a High Garda pistol from his heavy sleeve. “Courtesy of Lieutenant Zara. I think she likes me.”

“At least someone does,” Khalila said, and then relented and kissed him, very quickly, as the carriage began to slow. “Dario. If you’re taken . . .”

“I won’t be,” he said. “Until later, madonna.”

“Until later,” she said. He opened the carriage door as the vehicle halted, and as he started to get out, she was seized by a very real surge of dread. “Dario!” She grabbed his hand, and he froze, one foot on the step down. She swallowed a sudden lump in her throat and said, “The answer is yes. It was always yes, by the way. But I thought I should make you wait a while, since you seemed so confident.”

It took him only an instant to realize what she was saying, and the look on his face, in his eyes—it took her breath away, and it definitely did not belong on a monk. “You do me the greatest honor I will ever receive,” he said, and it didn’t sound like a glib, facile line; it sounded like something raw, and very real. He pressed her fingers to his lips, and she caught her breath at the intense heat of his mouth against her skin. His eyes never left hers. “I will live my life to be worthy of it.”

He stepped down, and Khalila took in a deep breath. Glain said, “What the hell was that?”

“Dario asked me to marry him just before we were taken in England,” she said. “And I just agreed. Am I insane, Glain?”

“Absolutely,” Glain said, and gave her a full, wide smile. “He’ll make you happy. And if he doesn’t, just tell me, and I’ll end him.”

Khalila smiled back, and then Brother Ferdinand was helping her down from the carriage with all due respect, as fine an example of a monk as she could imagine, and she turned to face the Lighthouse.

Her smile faded, and all the anxiety she’d pushed aside began to buzz in her veins.

Now is our test.

And this, most of all, they could not fail.



* * *





There were, strangely, no High Garda soldiers at the Lighthouse this evening; the sunset was spreading red across the sky, and down at the base of the tower, night had already spread a dark blue shadow.

But there were automata, and Khalila moved quickly to avoid a roaming sphinx. There were crowds of people in the vast courtyard, many of them Library assistants seeking transportation home; even here, their voices were muted and quiet, the mood dark. Khalila used the exiting workers as cover and hoped Glain would do the same; Dario had already slipped through.