Sword and Pen (The Great Library #5)(57)

He managed not to look at what was left of Villareal once the sphinx had finished with him.

The silence in the room was profound. Dario shifted his gaze back to Mondragon, who looked pale with fury. Every gun in the room was pointed at him, and every trigger halfway squeezed.

“Conniving little princeling,” one of the spies spat. Not Mondragon, who was unnaturally still.

“Yes, I am,” Dario said. “Which is why you followed me in the first place. You’re just angry that I connived for someone else instead.”

“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you,” Mondragon said.

“Because I’ll be of use to Spain in the future. My cousin certainly thinks so.”

“The ambassador would forgive me.”

Dario didn’t smile.

“I was referring to my other cousin,” he said. “The one wearing the crown. Do you really believe he didn’t know of this? And authorize what I’ve done?” Dario shrugged. “You may message him directly if you wish. If you have that access. And if I’m lying, I’m certain he’ll order my execution.”

This was, of course, a throw of the dice. He didn’t know Mondragon; he didn’t know if the young man actually had personal access to King Ramón Alfonse, or would dare to use it. He also, to be honest, wasn’t entirely certain his royal cousin would back him up on it, either.

Mondragon finally lowered his weapon. He still looked murderous, and would likely make a very bad enemy in the future. But today, he nodded and glanced around at the others, who silently obeyed his lead.

Dario walked to the nearest dead man, crouched, and closed his staring eyes. “Rest now,” he said. “Your duty is done.” He stood and said, “Collect their Codexes and personal journals if they carried them. They stayed loyal to their master to the end, and that deserves some recognition, at least. Their families should know they died bravely.”

Mondragon didn’t speak, but after a moment he nodded, and his spies began to circulate around the room. Once they were about their tasks, the head spy said, “I should add you to the pile. In this charnel house, who’d notice?”

“No one,” Dario said. “But I wasn’t lying when I said I will be of future value to Spain, and I can only do that if I’m still breathing. Are we understood?”

Mondragon nodded sharply. The tense muscle jumping in his jaw told Dario he was chewing on the facts, and not much caring for the taste. “What now, then?”

“I will do whatever the Great Library requires me to do.”

“But not Spain.”

Dario shrugged. “Well, not today. I told you my loyalty was clear. You only heard what you wished to hear.”

Mondragon’s men worked quickly, and within five minutes, Dario had a cloth bag filled with books. It was heavy, but manageable; as he heaved it over his shoulder he had a strange sense-memory and couldn’t place it for a moment.

Then he could. The chemical reek of Greek fire, and the weight of books. The Black Archives. Not a memory he cared to relive, on the whole.

When he looked up, Mondragon was staring at him. The young man was still considering killing him, he could see that. Feel it hanging like a shroud in the tense, dark air. There was no getting around the fact that if the spies held this place and threatened destruction, they might very well win the day for Spain.

“You won’t be able to,” Dario said. “Even if you were willing to bear the consequences. This was Lord Commander Santi’s plan all along. He had watchers posted. The moment the shooting stopped, High Garda began to infiltrate the whole building; they’ll have every suppression door closed and guarded by now. You’re caught.”

Mondragon’s smile was more of a snarl. “You’re a clever bastard, I’ll give you that. I assume you’re offering us safe passage out of here?”

“Absolutely. Go with God. As far as the High Garda are concerned, you broke no laws.”

Mondragon didn’t thank him, but Dario hardly expected that. He just turned and led his men out of the warehouse. The doors opened before he got to them: High Garda soldiers, visible evidence that this part, at least, hadn’t been a bluff.

He sat with the dead, and the sphinxes, until Captain Liu approached him. “The facility is secured,” he said. “Lord Commander Santi sends his thanks for a job well done.”

“Nothing about this was well done,” Dario said. He felt tired, and sick at heart. “It’s a slaughterhouse, and I helped double the body count.”

“Someone had to,” Captain Liu said. “I’ll call you a carriage to take you back to the Lighthouse.”

“Don’t bother,” Dario said. “I’ll walk.” He needed to find a tavern, and a great and damaging number of drinks.

But he knew even that wouldn’t erase the scar today had left. The slaughter, yes. But also the knowledge that Santi saw him for who he was, who he’d always been.

A deceiver.





EPHEMERA



Message from Obscurist Vanya Nikolin to the Archivist in Exile, hidden from observation


It may be of some interest to you that the search you had me conduct through the Archives has turned up a possible reference to the location you seek. It is not where we expected, at the very least; it’s nowhere near the Necropolis, or even at the Serapeum, which is where I would have guessed. The good news is that it is easily accessible, and if you can find the right person to undertake entry through the trials, you may come up with assets like nothing we can imagine. The things that he left us are astonishing enough. Surely what he took with him to the grave must be worth more than all the power hidden in the Black Archives put together.