Smoke and Iron (The Great Library #4)(93)

“You saw Qualls?”

“No. I imagined him.” Wolfe wished there was more wine left in the glass, but he didn’t have the strength to fetch himself more. “I don’t know why I’d imagine he’d want to rescue me, though. Do you?”

They’d talked about Qualls once, and only once, months after Wolfe’s release from the Roman prison. Santi had wanted very badly to hunt the man down and rip him to pieces. Maybe still did. “Do you think he was real?”

“He seemed real. I don’t know,” Wolfe said. His hands were shaking, and he clenched them into fists. “But promise me that tomorrow, there’s no prison. No Qualls. If it comes to that—”

“If it does,” Santi said, “then it comes for us both.”

Their fingers intertwined, and Wolfe leaned his head against Santi’s shoulder. Odd, that the promise of death would sound so inviting when put that way. “I’d rather live with you,” he said. “Let’s try for that.”

“Yes. Let’s.” Santi’s head came up, and he looked at the closed door. “Did you hear that?”

“What?”

Santi was already up. “Carriage,” he said, and was halfway down the stairs by the time Wolfe managed to make it to his feet. He followed as quickly as he could and was nearly to the floor of the grand entrance to the embassy when the doors opened and Glain and Khalila entered.

Glain and Khalila, alone.

“What happened?” Santi was asking. Khalila’s face showed her distress, and Wolfe’s eyes fixed on a heavy stain of blood at the bottom of her skirt. “Where is he?”

“Taken,” Glain said. “I’m sorry, Captain. I should have been there. Stopped it.”

“Where were you?”

The Welsh girl straightened to her full height and looked into the middle distance. An automatic, formal reporting stance. “Sir, I elected to accompany Dario; Khalila asked me to. He sent me to make sure she was all right. When I got back, he’d been taken by the High Garda. We couldn’t get to him. I thought the best I could do was make sure she was safe.” Her chin set itself at a more aggressive angle. “I’ll go get him, sir.”

“You won’t,” Santi said. “Does the ambassador know?”

“The ambassador does not know, and would prefer you tell him immediately,” said Alvaro Santiago, coming at a brisk walk from what must have been his office. He looked grim, and lines formed at the corners of his mouth and eyes as he listened to the story. “He was caught with your letters on him, then. A clear sign of treason. I’ll file a formal protest, but if they have him, they’ll keep him.”

“Can you find out where he’s being held?”

“If I go and demand answers of the High Garda, the first question they will ask is how I knew,” he said. “No. I can’t reasonably find out until at least the morning. If they suspect you’re hiding here, diplomacy won’t save you, and I’d rather not have my entire staff slaughtered to protect you. We wait. Dario may not be especially likeable, but I promise you this: he has honor to spare. He’ll say nothing to put you at risk. And tomorrow, we will find him. All right?”

“No!” Khalila shook off Glain’s restraining hand. “No, it isn’t all right. They hurt him. There was blood—”

“Not enough for a fatal wound,” Glain put in.

“There was a great deal of blood, and I want to go find him! Let me go find him!”

“Khalila.” Santi put his hands on her shoulders, and Wolfe saw the tense fury drain out of her. “He knew the risk. And if I know Dario, he’ll be claiming every royal privilege from here to Spain, and the High Garda will have to take it seriously. They’ll send word to the Artifex, and the Artifex will have him transferred to the prison as he considers his options. We can’t get him. Not tonight. I’m sorry.”

The breath went out of her in a wrenching sound that might have been a sob, but there were no tears in her eyes. “Where’s Thomas?”

“In the workshop,” Alvaro said. “He asked me for special tools and locked me out. I don’t know what he’s doing. Is he always so . . .”

“Strange? Yes,” Wolfe said. “And brilliant. Work will help him. Leave him there.” He exchanged a look with Santi. “All of you, go rest. There’s nothing more we can do tonight. Morning will come soon enough.”

“Has Jess come back?” Glain asked.

“No,” Wolfe said.

And privately, he doubted they’d ever see the boy again.





PART TWELVE





MORGAN





CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO




Somehow, Morgan had never anticipated that getting the most powerful Obscurist in the world on her side would be anything but a total victory. She’d thought of it as a lock to be picked, a door to be opened . . . but now that the lock had fallen and the door swung wide, there was a flesh-and-blood man.

Even though she’d known all along that he had voluntarily exiled himself for almost forty years, an act of will that no one she knew could duplicate . . . she’d never imagined he’d be so damned stubborn.

“That’s simply a failure of your imagination,” Annis said. They sat together in the reading room, where Eskander had sent them.