Sword and Pen (The Great Library #5)(49)

“You didn’t need to come with us,” he told her as they walked.

“I most surely did,” she said. “In case my crew decides they don’t like to follow the orders of a dusty old Scholar. Why, are you worried about me?”

“I think you know how to survive,” he said, and coughed. They’d been walking nearly an hour, and his lungs were struggling now, swollen and tender. He covered the cough and tried not to see Glain’s gaze, which was focused on him like Thomas’s light gun. “Sorry. Dust.”

“We keep our tunnels quite clean,” Anit said. “Do you need to rest?”

“No,” Jess said. “I’m fine.”

She didn’t argue, but she didn’t believe him, either; he could see that from the glance she sent him. “Only about another twenty minutes,” she told him. “We’ll come to an intersection soon, then take the branch to the left. It’s not far from there to the Necropolis.”

“And exactly why do you have tunnels built to the Necropolis?” Glain asked.

Anit didn’t answer that question, but Jess knew well enough. The Necropolis, with its underground city of tombs, was an ideal place to hide things; few ventured there after their dead were sealed away in their miniature houses. “Red Ibrahim had a false tomb built,” Jess guessed. “Valuable books?”

“Very,” Anit said. “The rarest of them all.”

“And . . . where will you lay him to rest? Not there, surely.”

“No,” she said. “Another tomb, under a different name. He left instructions.”

“I don’t suppose you’d let me see the cache . . . ?”

She smiled a little. “Perhaps I will,” she said. “Since I know we share a love of forbidden things. But not today. Today is for more serious things.”

He nodded. Another cough threatened, and he swallowed it back as best he could. He could hear himself wheezing as he breathed, and hoped it wasn’t as noticeable to anyone else. He couldn’t use the mask here, out in the open; it would signal to everyone—including Wolfe—that he wasn’t fit to fight. I’ll manage, he thought. He slowed his pace a little, dropping back, and found that Glain adjusted her speed to match him. She wasn’t looking at him. It seemed entirely coincidental.

“You’re not well enough,” she said.

“Oh, and you are?” In the eerie green glow, everyone looked faintly ill, but Glain’s face was shining with sweat.

“We’ll look after each other, then,” she said, and he nodded. Together, they might just make it through. “And Wolfe, of course.”

Always.

“How many know about these tunnels?” Glain asked him. Jess shrugged.

“No idea, but Red Ibrahim would have kept this one close to his vest. His most trusted lieutenants might have known about it, but few others.”

“And what odds do you give that the Archivist didn’t know about it?”

“Good ones,” he replied. “If he had, he’d have seized the books. And probably wiped out Red Ibrahim and everyone who knew him. Those were his standing orders.”

She didn’t seem convinced, but she accepted that, and as they arrived at the turn, they’d fallen to the back of the company, away from Wolfe and Anit. Anit’s picked crew consisted of about twenty, ten of them women who looked just as capable and focused as Glain. Mostly Egyptians, but a few drawn from paler lands, and at least a portion of the crew hailed back to origins farther east. Even criminals in Alexandria were cosmopolitan.

When the company paused, Jess and Glain caught up and pushed through to rejoin Wolfe. He stood with Anit at what seemed to be a blank, blunt end to the tunnel, and the gloom at this end—far from the last glow—made the situation seem even worse.

Anit pressed her small hands against the stone in a special pattern with her fingers spread. There was an audible click that rolled through the tunnel, and then the stone began to slide away to the left. It was almost silent, but almost, Jess thought, wasn’t good enough. He unslung the rifle from his back and saw that Glain had already done the same. Without speaking or even glancing to confirm, they moved out as a team ahead of Wolfe and Anit.

The Necropolis was dark. Very dark. The only light came from a single spot far above at the top of the chamber—a hole that poured light down in an almost solid stream. It was meant, Jess thought, to be bounced from a mirror; he could see other mirrors set on the walls of the cave, glimmering in the dimness. But someone had moved the mirror that caught the incoming light and distributed it.

The Archivist wanted to make this difficult for anyone who might come looking.

The problem was that this was a city of the dead; it was disturbingly quiet here, only a distant whistle of wind across the hole piercing the dome above to disguise their footsteps. He tried to step carefully. It was cooler in here than he’d expected, and there was a strong reek—not of decomposition so much, but of embalming chemicals. It clawed at his lungs, and he felt a surge of panic and held his breath. He could not cough. Not now.

He was so intent on that, he flinched when a tap on his shoulder signaled that Wolfe had joined them. The Scholar pointed toward one structure near the far left side, and once spotted in the gloom it was impossible to miss: a not-very-miniature pyramid with a capstone covered in gold. Jess signaled to Anit, who began to direct her people. She stayed back, which he appreciated. And she had a guard who stayed by her side. He glimpsed the distinctive haircut, though it was far too dark to see the snake tattoo beneath.