Sword and Pen (The Great Library #5)(54)

“And exactly who are you?” Dario asked. He was fuming at the way he’d been patronized, but also knew better than to indulge his attitude just now. He kept his tone unsharpened.

“Cesar Mondragon,” he said. “But you wouldn’t know me. My trade is not being known.”

“Spy.” That got a slow smile in reply. Nothing else. “All right, I’m here. Now what?”

“Now you’ll help us put the Great Library in a position where they have to see the patently obvious: they can’t survive alone.”

“Which means what, precisely?”

“We intend to take the Archivist prisoner,” Mondragon said. “Your access and knowledge are important to this, and your willing cooperation.” He stressed willing. Dario nodded slightly in acknowledgment. “Thoughts?”

“It’s a stupid plan,” Dario said. “The Archivist has a heavy guard. So will all the targets you’ve likely considered: the Lighthouse, the Serapeum, the Iron Tower, the Great Archives, and the High Garda barracks. You won’t succeed in any of those places. And I can’t make those odds any better.”

Mondragon’s smile vanished. “Then what use are you to us?”

“I can tell you the single most vulnerable spot you’ve never heard of,” Dario said. “The one few even know about. If you do it well, you can take this entire city without a fight. That’s what I’d prefer. I don’t want idiots like you destroying it while saving it.”

“Careful, Don Santiago,” Mondragon said. “You may be royal, but you’re not immortal. The king didn’t order me to kill you. He didn’t order me not to, either.”

Young as Cesar Mondragon was, he clearly knew his business; Dario had to give him that much. He said nothing to that. Just waited. And eventually, Mondragon said, “Very well. Where is this magical place only you know? What use does it have for us?”

“It’s where the High Garda produces and stores Greek fire,” Dario said. “In a quiet, anonymous backwater of the city. Everyone believes it’s made and stored at the High Garda compound, but that would be ludicrous; you don’t keep volatile, potentially disastrous equipment like that in the same spot as your main fighting force. The liquid is made at a secret plant, stored nearby, and sent in small, regular deliveries to the High Garda compound for use. It’s a well-kept secret. And once you take control of it, you can dictate terms to the Archivist, the High Garda, the Obscurists . . . everyone. The city will be yours.”

“And you learned of this place how?”

“I’ve been traveling with Captain Santi for years now,” Dario said. “He’s careful with his secrets, but nobody’s careful enough. Not constantly. I saw it in his private journal.”

“How would you come to see his private journal?”

Dario smiled slowly. “The same way you would, in my position. Borrowing it when he was asleep.”

“And why would you do that?”

“Because it might be useful one day. And turns out, it is.”

Mondragon didn’t altogether like his answer, but there was nothing to prove or disprove about it. Dario had read some private journals, including Captain Santi’s, when he was still a student back in Ptolemy House and trying to understand the best strategies for survival in a hostile, competitive environment. He’d been searching mainly for blackmail material that he could use on either Scholar Wolfe or Captain Santi to ensure his elevation to full Scholar status. He’d found a great deal more than he’d expected. And he’d never used any of it, or admitted that shameful tactic to anyone until this moment. He supposed it didn’t reflect well on his character. Not that he cared what Mondragon, or any of them, thought about it.

“Let’s say I accept your idea,” Mondragon said. “What exactly are you proposing to do with that information?”

“It will be guarded; it’s always guarded,” Dario said. “But if we can take possession of it, the Archivist will have to grant our request to open the harbor, land our ships and troops, and allow us to secure the city.”

“Why would they do that?” Mondragon asked.

“Threaten to ignite the stores. If you do, the explosion will be . . . well. Like nothing this city, or indeed the world, has ever seen.” He opened both hands from fists to palms, and Mondragon got the message. Eloquently.

“Surely the High Garda have guards, and safeguards to prevent just such an explosion.”

“Yes, and yes. Automata and, of course, human soldiers. Probably triple guard posted, though they ought to be tired by now. And complacent, as much as High Garda can be.” He paused. “As to the safeguards . . . there are alchemically treated doors separating the warehouse itself into smaller compartments that can be contained in case of fire. But once we take the complex, we can open all the suppression doors at will.”

“Triple guards.”

“There might be, yes.”

“I don’t like might,” Mondragon said. “And I particularly don’t like automata.”

“Who does?” Dario grinned. “That’s the point of them. But I know how to turn them off. Well, most of them. It’s not easy, or safe, but it can be done. That just leaves the human guards, and I trust you can handle that.”