Sword and Pen (The Great Library #5)(44)

And the wolves would rip the Great Library apart.

Alamasi’s pen stopped, and he waited. Long moments. The city’s alarms still droned, warning the citizens to shelter, but now they fell silent, too. He saw flutters of bronze wings in the skies; the Obscurists had set the sphinxes in flight to circle above the city, ready to strike enemies with all the terror an automaton could bring. The lions were moving through the streets with the High Garda companies. Spartans and automaton gods would be stepping off their pedestals to patrol.

No one had ever succeeded in breaching Alexandria’s defenses. And he would not have it happen under his command.

“Message to the Obscurist Magnus,” he said. “Ask him how the Obscurists are holding up. We need those automata working.”

After another moment, she said, “He reports that the workload is heavy, but they are managing. He recommends keeping a dozen sphinxes in the air for early detection of any threats. Save the dragon for emergencies.”

“Good,” Santi said. “Anything from the Spanish ambassador yet?”

She sounded regretful. “No, Lord Commander. But I do have a report that Dario Santiago has been found and is being escorted here.”

That implied rather strongly that Dario hadn’t come by his own will. Typical. Santi quite liked the arrogant little ass, but he knew how much Dario detested being told what to do. Royals. “Any updates from Scholar Wolfe?”

“I regret not, sir.”

Santi clasped his hands behind his back in favor of balling them into fists.

Stay alive, Christopher.

And find that damned old man before he causes chaos on top of chaos. We can’t afford to fight on two fronts.



* * *



—

Dario arrived under armed escort, and despite their professional behavior Santi could see it hadn’t been an easy trip. The young nobleman was dressed in wine-red velvet, expensive and well made, though he probably considered his outfit quite plain. Not a jewel to be seen. Not even lace on his sleeves.

What he did have, which the High Garda soldier leading the escort deprived him of and handed to Santi directly, was a dagger. It was indeed jeweled, and it had a beautiful Latin inscription on the blade. “Ego bibo alte,” Santi read. “I drink deep.”

“It works both for the blade and for me,” Dario said. “May I have that back? It was expensive.”

“In a while,” Santi said, and put it aside on the table. “Come to the window.”

Dario weighed his choices and wisely decided not to make it a fight; he came to the window, crossed his arms, and said, “What do you want, Lord Commander? I might be royal, but kidnapping me won’t get you anywhere. The king of Spain has a lot of cousins.”

Santi cast him a look that clearly told him not to push his luck. “Where is your loyalty?”

“Excuse me?”

“You wear the gold band of a lifetime Scholar,” Santi said. “You’ve put it back on, I see that. But you’ve abandoned your robe.”

“Not every Scholar wears one.”

“Today they do,” he said, “unless they have a compelling reason.”

“Is this what you had me dragged here for? To critique my wardrobe?” Dario flicked an imaginary speck of dust from his jacket. But he was wary. Listening. Just putting up his usual rank of glittering defenses.

“I’m asking you where you stand,” Santi said. “With the Great Library, or with your homeland and relatives. It matters very much at this moment.”

Dario’s face smoothed out into a blank mask. “Sir,” he said, “I’m offended you should even have to ask—”

“Don’t.” Santi’s calm, heavy tone put a stop to the foolishness. Dario rocked back and forth on his heels a moment before he answered.

“It’s difficult,” he admitted then, and Santi heard the ring of truth this time. “I love Spain. I love my cousins. And I hope they have the purest of motives—”

“They just bombarded our city.”

“The Welsh did that!”

“Without the Spanish ambassador’s complicity? Really? You’re smarter than that, Dario. He used them to see what we’d do in response. Now he knows.”

“He is an extraordinarily good chess player. But so are you, Cap—” Dario broke off and shook his head. “It’s hard to break the habit of calling you captain.”

“Imagine how it feels for me,” Santi said. “I’m doing my best to protect and preserve this city, but my true and only duty is to protect and preserve the Great Library. I need help to do that.”

“From me?”

“Yes. From you. If you’re willing. And if you’re loyal.”

“I am,” Dario said, and heaved a sigh as he looked up at the ceiling in frustration. “Dear God in heaven, I am loyal to this glamorous, miserable place, and I never thought I’d say that. I never expected it to force me to stand against my own, but here we are. It doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.”

“Your happiness isn’t required,” Santi said. “I need something that comes to you as naturally as breathing.”

Dario’s dark eyebrows went up. It gave him a piratical look. “Which is?”