Sword and Pen (The Great Library #5)(18)

The parade of captains had been a tense time; if the old Archivist had any assassins in their midst, that had been the best moment for them to strike. Khalila noted the positions of High Garda snipers up in the galleries; Santi had taken no chances today, other than the ones imposed upon him. She imagined the man was raw nerves, with Wolfe out exposed to danger and the threat of violence hanging in the air here as well, but when she looked at Santi she saw nothing but calm. Some might think it complacency. Khalila knew he was at his most dangerous like this.

The next phase was the mass renewal of vows from the Scholars, the librarians, and the High Garda rank and file. Khalila spoke the words with them. In the name of sacred knowledge, in the eyes of every god in every corner of this world, I swear my allegiance to the Great Library of Alexandria. I swear to protect the knowledge of this world against all enemies, within and without. I swear to nurture and share such knowledge with all who wish to learn. I swear to live, teach, preserve, study, fight, and die in this cause. The words gave Khalila gooseflesh, woke a breathless light within her. The thunder of thousands of voices together was powerful indeed.

Scholar Murasaki stood, and the cloth-of-gold robe she wore caught fire in the light. She raised her arms. “Knowledge is all.”

“Knowledge is all,” came the response, and then—though it wasn’t part of the ritual—someone let out a wild cheer of victory.

And then they were all cheering, and Khalila was weeping from the force of it. This was the Great Library. Not the old Archivist’s plots and schemes and cold-blooded power struggles. Not the heresy of his Black Archives, where he’d locked up forbidden knowledge. Not the prisons where he interred his enemies.

The soul of the Great Library was here, in this room, and in that transcendent moment with tears warm on her cheeks, she knew she loved it more than she would ever love anything or anyone else save for Allah himself.



* * *



—

Dario arrived late, just as the oath ceremony ended. She saw him slip into the room; he was wearing his Scholar’s robes, and he made his way to her side to whisper, “Forgive me, my love, I had duties. The envoys are waiting under flag of truce.”

“You didn’t take the oath,” she said quietly. The tears were dry on her cheeks; she hadn’t wiped them away. She wanted to feel them there, always.

“I couldn’t,” he said. “Someone had to greet these ambassadors.”

She understood that, but she also knew that on a certain level perhaps Dario preferred it this way. He did believe in the Great Library, most certainly, but like most politically inclined people he always had an eye for the main chance, and just now that trended toward the navies floating outside their harbor. He was of royal Spanish blood, and that would never change. She loved him. But in this one thing, she wasn’t altogether certain she trusted him.

“Well, Wolfe wasn’t here, either,” he said, a bit defensively, and she realized her expression must have betrayed her doubt. “And neither were Jess, Thomas, or Glain. Don’t single me out for doing my duty!”

“I’m not,” she said, which was a tiny portion of a lie that she would have to make amends for later, but for now she couldn’t spend time on the explanation. “Thank you, Dario. I’ll let the Archivist know they’ve arrived.”

He nodded and stepped back, taking it for the dismissal it was. She missed him acutely, wanted to follow him and stand with him and hold his hand, but she stayed at her post and moved to whisper the news to Murasaki. The new Archivist nodded, a single inclination of her head, and said, “See them made welcome.”

Khalila told Santi, who signaled to his guards at the door. Inefficient, she thought. There were reforms to be made to this space. Perhaps the Obscurists could create some messaging system that would allow this process to be more effective. Or even more automata to secure this room.

It occurred to her then that not a single Obscurist had been here to take the oath. That alarmed her, set her heart to pounding heavily, and she took deep breaths to right its rhythm. They haven’t broken faith, she told herself. Obscurists traditionally did not leave the Iron Tower for such ceremonies; instead, the Archivist made a journey to them to accept their oaths. But Eskander, the new Obscurist Magnus, didn’t seem one to stand on such tradition. Perhaps there had been urgent things to be done and the Obscurists couldn’t spare the time.

And, just perhaps, Eskander currently held far too much power—almost as much as Murasaki—and didn’t wish to concede it. It was a worry. One that Khalila would have to resolve for herself, before a real threat emerged.

But for now, the only real threat was coming into the room.

She watched as the great doors swung open, and the ambassadors entered under the silken flags of their kingdoms. They were dwarfed by the majesty of the hall, even a hundred strong, but they carried themselves with the gravity and confidence of kings. They knelt as a body to the Archivist, who acknowledged them with a gracious nod and signal to rise, and then one of the ambassadors stepped forward.

She knew him. It was Alvaro Santiago, the onetime Spanish ambassador to the Great Library. He’d sheltered them in his palace, given them safety and support. But now he didn’t spare her—or his cousin Dario, for that matter—a single glance. His attention was solely devoted to the throne.

“Honored Archivist,” he said, and he had an orator’s soothing voice without a doubt. “I am Alvaro Luis Honoré Flores de Santiago, ambassador to the Great Library of Alexandria. On behalf of His Majesty Ramón Alfonse of the great and sovereign nation of Spain, I bring congratulations on your appointment to this important and necessary position. May God grant you wisdom and strength.”