Sword and Pen (The Great Library #5)(42)

The size of it made him suck in a startled breath. He’d seen the drawings, discussed the dry, academic option of activating the city’s ancient defenses, but he’d never imagined it would be like this. The thing—Poseidon?—stood tall, and the dizzying height of the top of the Serapeum only came even with the thing’s pointed chin. It dwarfed even the most massive warships; the city, docks, and harbor looked like toys in comparison.

He watched it drag the chain up and freeze in place with its trident at the ready. No captain with any sanity would dare attempt a crossing. Not now.

And in the next instant he thought, They don’t have to.

He dropped the cup he was holding and ran down the steps, heedless of his own safety. Every second passing was deadly. He could hear the city starting to react to the presence of the automaton guarding their city; some were shouting, many cheering. No time, no time . . .

He jumped the last three steps and landed running, flat out, shouting at surprised Scholars to make way. He arrived at the strategy room halfway down the pyramid and saw all his captains crowded together at the windows, looking toward the harbor.

“Shutters down!” he snapped, and pointed to the Obscurist who was standing nearby. She was a young thing, and he hoped to Heron she was competent. “Do it now! Emergency security for the Serapeum, the Iron Tower, the High Garda compound, the Lighthouse, and the Archives. Execute!”

She seemed dazed for an instant, then snapped upright and said, “Yes, Lord Commander,” and stepped away. He had to trust it would be done. He had other concerns. As his captains turned toward him, the shutters began gliding down over the windows—solid metal, treated to resist Greek fire.

“Captains,” he said. He sounded sharp and urgent, and in this moment he wanted that. “As planned. Tier one defenses, secure our approaches. Tier two, deploy into the streets with balm for the barrage of Greek fire we’re bound to draw. They’ve had all the time of their crossing to map out their battle plans. Our response is in place. Stay loose, stay ready, and above all, defend our people and the Great Library from anyone, anyone who would threaten either one. If you need resources, all clerks are on duty to monitor the Codex for all requests; use the code previously issued. We will do all we can to support you. Expect the Obscurists to provide you with automaton support as soon as they can.” He hesitated for one second, and said, “You know me, and I respect you. I trust every one of you to uphold your oaths and honor the ancestors who’ve guarded this city for five thousand years. Spend lives if you must. But make the enemy spend theirs first.”

The sound of fists hitting chests made a palpable wave through the room. He saluted them back and watched his captains go. “Captain Botha,” he said, and motioned his former lieutenant over on the way out. “I give my company into your care.” Botha had command of his people now, and Santi was content with that. Botha nodded and allowed a thin, dangerous smile to emerge.

“Lord Commander, you’ve trained them well enough that no one could lead them wrong. We will prevail.”

“I know.”

They gripped hands for a moment, and then Botha was gone. The room was almost empty, save for the phalanx of clerks and Santi’s newly minted aide, Senior Captain Nofret Alamasi. She stood calm and poised, waiting for orders. He had none to give at the moment, but he exchanged nods with her that told her to relax. She did with a visible sigh. “It begins,” she said.

“Any moment now,” he agreed. “May gods great and small be with us. We’ve word of the Russian infantry advancing fast from the north. The Saudis are standing firm in our defense, as are Turkey and India, but I don’t like our odds if that fails. If Turkey or India turn to join the Russians . . .”

“I don’t think that will happen,” she said. “We all know without the Great Library they’d be at each other’s throats. It must have taken all the diplomacy in the world to put English and Welsh ships within firing distance of each other, not to mention Spanish and Portuguese. How long do you think those truces will hold when bodies start to fall?”

“Excellent question,” he said. “But unfortunately, not our greatest concern just now. I’d love to set our enemies against each other, but we have bigger problems.”

She cocked her head, eyes narrowing. “Which are?”

“Something I’d rather not commit High Garda troops against. This is best done with misdirection, and I know just the person for that. Contact Dario Santiago and get him here. Quickly.”

She took out her Codex and dispatched the orders. If Dario ignored the summons, he’d be met with High Garda escorts who would force the issue. The young man would come, like it or not. Almost certainly, he would not.

There was nothing about the current situation that Santi liked, either. He could at least spread the discomfort around.

The first wave of Greek fire hit only moments later. He knew it by the choking reek of the stuff that drifted in, and the alarms booming from the Lighthouse. They’ll be aiming for the Lighthouse first. He hoped the Obscurists had enough will and power to defend their landmarks, both for the sake of history and to protect a vital strategic advantage. The Lighthouse wasn’t merely offices, or the ancient beacon that had burned, in one form or another, for most of recorded history. Today, it became a weapon.

If Thomas’s plans proved out.