Sword and Pen (The Great Library #5)(111)

“Days,” she said. “That’s the third dose of the antidote; Thomas made it himself from the sample he brought. The Medica were afraid you’d never wake.”

He didn’t want to ask, but he made himself. “Morgan?”

Anit looked away. “I’m sorry,” she said. “She was badly burned, and she died inside the Great Archives.”

He looked at Thomas and read the truth on his best friend’s face. Thomas didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

It hadn’t been a nightmare. Morgan was dead.

He expected grief, but even so he wasn’t prepared. It hit like a storm, ripping through him in convulsing waves. Gone. She’s gone. Like his brother.

Everything he loved left him.

Despite the pain, he didn’t feel any urge to weep. His eyes burned, but it felt angry, not sad. “She shouldn’t have died for it,” he said. “The Great Library never did anything for her. It took her freedom away. And now it took her life.”

“She chose to save it,” Thomas said. “She could have run. She didn’t.”

He knew he had to honor what she’d done. It had been the bravest thing he’d ever seen.

But he hated himself for not stopping her.

Thomas cleared his throat. “Jess, the Archivist is here. We should let her speak with you alone.”

His brain was sluggish, and for a moment Jess thought he meant the bitter old man he’d left dead in the Serapeum . . . but no, of course it was Khalila. A more serious Khalila, dressed in plain black, with only the crown with the seal of the Great Library atop her hijab to show her status. She exchanged a hug with Anit—when had they become friends?—and claimed the chair beside Jess’s bed. “I’ve prayed for your recovery,” she told him. “Insha’Allah, they think you’ll be back to normal in a few weeks.”

“Weeks,” he repeated. He was glad to see her, but he felt . . . numbed, as well. Oddly distant. I survived. He’d never expected that. Never expected to have to live through all of this.

He’d been chasing down death. He’d actually caught it.

And somehow it had slipped away despite all his best efforts.

“I expect you’ll convince them to make it sooner,” Khalila said. She took his hand in hers. “My friend, I’m so very sorry.”

“About Morgan?” He shook his head. “Thomas says she made her choice.” And I’m angry with her. She should have run. She should have never been there at all.

“She chose to save books that would have otherwise vanished from this earth,” Khalila said. “Her name’s being carved into the Scholar Steps. She’s going to be honored among the highest heroes of the Great Library.”

“I don’t think she ever wanted that,” he said. “I think she just wanted to be free.”

“She was free, ever since the arena; she could have gone at any time. She chose to stay. Obscurists are free now, free to live outside the Iron Tower, to have families, to do anything they wish. I’ve made sure of that, in her honor.”

“I wish it had all burned,” he said, and closed his eyes. “If she was the price of winning.”

“You don’t mean that.”

He didn’t. He couldn’t imagine a world without the Great Library. Without books. Without knowledge at his fingertips when he needed it.

It struck him suddenly that every book he read now would be a gift. A gift from Morgan.

And that was the moment that grief truly broke inside him, and the angry, painful tears came. It didn’t last long, and Khalila just held his hand as the storm passed, then silently handed him a handkerchief. He wiped his face and took a careful breath. It hurt, but it was only a shadow of the pain he’d felt before. “She didn’t have any family left,” he said. “Her da tried to kill her. He was the last of them.”

“She’s been laid to rest in the Necropolis,” Khalila said. “We put her in the old Archivist’s miniature Serapeum, and buried him in a pauper’s hole instead. It seemed appropriate.”

He’d missed her funeral. No.

“Your family’s arrived,” she said. “They asked to see you, and they want to take your brother’s body back to London. I refused to allow any of it until you were awake and I knew what you wanted to do.”

His da, here, in Alexandria. Well, that was a terrible idea. “Brendan would want to go home,” he said. “He liked Alexandria, but he’d want to be in England. Let them have him.”

“I was afraid we’d have to give them two sons,” she said. “I’m glad I was wrong.”

She took the handkerchief back from him and folded it neatly before slipping it into a pocket of her dress.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wearing plain black before,” he said. “You’re wearing mourning?”

“Yes,” she said. “For Morgan. She was part of my family. As are you, my brother.”

“I’ve already got Anit; you don’t need to adopt me, too.”

“But I want to. And since I’m the Archivist, you really can’t object.” She gave him that charming, slightly wicked smile.

“If you’re the Archivist, you ought to be wearing all the gold robes,” he pointed out.