Sword and Pen (The Great Library #5)(12)

“What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know. Something useful.”

“Jess. Your life doesn’t have to be just useful,” Glain said. “It’s all right to have goals for yourself. Things you want.”

Jess started to fire back that he always followed his heart . . . but that wasn’t really true. He’d grown up knowing there were expectations of him, and he’d followed those as best he could. Rebelled when he couldn’t. But all his life, he’d been reacting to something: his father. His brother. Wolfe. The Great Library itself.

But who was he—really? He had skills, but he knew he lacked real purpose. Glain had a clear vision of who she intended to be. So did Thomas. Khalila. Even Dario, in his way.

I’m more like Morgan, he thought. She’s exerted every effort to avoid her destiny. And so have I.

“You should look into being a counselor,” he said.

“Fuck off, Brightwell.”

They’d arrived at a plain double set of doors with old Egyptian hieroglyphs inset with gold above the door and a Greek translation beneath. General stores. Glain pushed the doors open, and they entered one of the most intimidatingly vast warehouses that Jess had ever seen: racks that stretched three stories up, everything perfectly aligned and orderly. Crates and boxes neatly labeled. Clothing in crisply folded stacks. Glain didn’t pause; she headed straight for a shelf that held battle uniforms and checked through them until she found what she wanted. She pulled out a protective vest, underwear, jacket, trousers, socks, boots, and weapons belt and unlocked the weapons cabinet at the back of the room to draw out a High Garda rifle and sheathed knife. She passed it all to him and pointed to a bench at the back.

“How do you know my sizes?” he asked her.

“Brightwell, I’m your lieutenant now. I know everything.”

He caught the slight gleam in her eye, and a quirk of a smile tugging the corners of her lips. He gave her a full grin, which was hardly protocol, and as he turned away she planted a boot sole in his rear to speed him on his way. She, at least, wasn’t going to treat him as damaged goods.

He dressed quickly, feeling exposed and cold in the cavernous space. Glain was, of course, right on the sizes, even down to the boots, which fit like custom-made. He checked himself in the full-length mirror, and the reflection startled him for a second.

Brendan stared back. And then it was just him, pale and unwell, an ordinary soldier in a well-fitting uniform with the Great Library’s sigil gleaming on the collars and cuffs.

He fastened the weapons belt and eased the sidearm he already had into the holster. Extra charges on the weapons belt. He counted them out of reflex; the full ten. Exactly as expected.

“Stop admiring yourself and get a move on,” Glain said. “Unless you want me to leave you here.”

He couldn’t tell if she meant that or only wanted to motivate him. With Glain it was very difficult to tell. She’d grown into a tall and fiercely handsome young woman in the last few months; when he’d first met her she’d been awkward and uncomfortable in her body, but one thing had never wavered: her commitment to the High Garda. The perfect soldier, Glain was. And he knew he’d never match that.

But it was a fine thing to see, really.

He came back to her, and she gave him a critical once-over. “Stand up straight,” Glain said. “When you wear that uniform, you don’t slouch, Brightwell.”

“Yes, Lieutenant,” he said, and saluted her. It wasn’t mocking. He tried to do it well, and it must have been acceptable because she gave him a nod in turn. But then she stopped and met his gaze.

“I suppose I should say this. I’m sorry about Brendan,” she said. “I didn’t like him, but I know you loved him. Don’t take any guilt for his death. Fact is, I doubt he’d have taken any for you.”

He wanted to defend Brendan, but she was right; his brother usually cut his losses as soon as things turned against him, and Brendan had been pragmatic in a way that Jess knew he could never manage. And so he said, “Thanks. That must have hurt.”

“You have no idea,” Glain replied. “Tell anyone I showed you the slightest sympathy and I’ll pull your liver out through your throat.”

“Love you back,” he said, low enough that she could ignore it if she was so inclined. She paused as she walked away and didn’t quite turn.

“Glad to have you still with us,” she said, just as quietly. “Let’s go.”

Jess settled the rifle sling around his chest and followed his lieutenant.

A roving patrol stopped them on the way out of the High Garda compound and checked their Great Library wristbands. Security was necessarily tight; Jess grabbed the sergeant in charge of the detail and said, “Post a guard on the stores. Pay special attention to anyone taking extra uniforms.” Glain had used her badge to unlock the weapons cabinets, but uniforms weren’t considered as secure.

The sergeant frowned at him, then nodded. He understood well enough what Jess meant; they had enough problems without potential saboteurs wearing High Garda uniforms and gaining access to easy targets.

Like the Archives, Jess thought, and felt a chill. He caught up with Glain. “Lieutenant,” he said. “The Archives—”

“Yes,” Glain said. “I was told there’s already a plan in motion to secure the Great Archives. It’s an easy target for Burners, as well as other enemies. We have to watch for anything. Don’t worry, Commander Santi has it under control.”