Paper and Fire (The Great Library) (31 page)

Morgan nodded. “Exactly. What do you want the lion to do?” She reached for a pen that Glaudino had left on a stack of papers on the table.

“I want it to be our champion,” Thomas said.

I
t took another hour to puzzle out how to put the lion back together, but they managed. Jess was proud of his handiwork—or Thomas’s, really; he’d just donated his hands to the job. He sat back on his heels and looked at Thomas, Morgan, and Glain, and said, “Ready?”

“Ready,” Thomas said. “Let’s see if she works.”

Glain’s head suddenly turned in the direction of the outer workshop, and she took a step toward the door, then back. “Santi and the others,” she said. “They’re coming in.”

Jess nodded and reached the switch beneath the lion’s jaw just as the others crowded into the small workshop.

“What in the
hell
are you doing?” Wolfe asked. He sounded exhausted and, of course, irritable. He would be. They’d been a long time getting here, and no doubt there was a story to it Jess wanted to hear . . . but not now.

Wolfe was probably shocked when Thomas turned to him and shushed him, but Jess didn’t look up. He was sweating and feeling uncomfortably close to this creature now that it was no longer in pieces. “Here it goes.”

He pressed the switch and quickly backed up to stand next to Thomas and Morgan. “This will work, won’t it?” he asked Thomas. “A little reassurance would be nice. We don’t have room to run in here.”

Reassurance didn’t come from Thomas, but from the lion. The dull eyes took on a shimmer, then a baleful red shine. It turned its head to fix those unblinking eyes on Jess, and . . . made a sound low in that metallic throat that sounded almost like a purr
.

Jess was used to hearing them growl, but he’d never heard
that
sound before. Before he could ask Thomas if that was a good sign, the lion’s head pushed forward and pressed against his chest, and the mechanical purring grew so loud, it vibrated through Jess’s body. He awkwardly patted the thing’s head. His whole body still felt tight and nervous. “Good girl,” he said. “Is it a girl?”

“Jess,” Thomas said. “It’s a machine. But I think I will call her Frauke. Do you like that name, Frauke?”

“It’s an automaton. It can’t like—” But the lion was turning from him to nudge her nose against Thomas’s chest now.
Purring.
It seemed beyond odd.

Morgan came next, and she smiled when the lion’s massive nose pushed at her. “Frauke,” she said. “It means ‘little lady,’ doesn’t it? It suits her.” She stroked the metal ears.

“If you’re finished making a pet out of this monster—” Wolfe said, and stopped as Frauke’s head snapped in the direction of his voice and the purring switched to a low, ominous rumble.

“No, no, Frauke. He’s one of us.” Thomas gestured to Wolfe, who looked back as if he thought they’d all gone mad. “Come, Scholar, she needs to learn who you are.”

Wolfe didn’t like it—at all—and that didn’t change even when Frauke’s growls changed to purrs. He suffered the nuzzling with a bitter expression
of distaste before he moved well back, and pushed Santi forward in his place.

“Brilliant,” Santi said, and patted Frauke on the head. No hesitation there; he clearly liked the creature. Santi stepped aside to let Khalila crowd forward, and then Dario. “She’ll not only confuse our enemies, but confront them, too. No one questions a party of Scholars and High Garda walking with an official lion as escort, do they?”

The only one Frauke hadn’t nuzzled was Glain, who still watched the door. When they all turned toward her, she shook her head. “I’m not coming near that thing.”

Morgan tried. “Glain. It’s safe. You saw—”

“It’s wrong. It’s wrong that you just . . .
changed
it. Is it just that easy for you? Just rewrite a killer into a pet?” She glared straight at Morgan finally. “It’s Obscurists who make all this possible, you know. Without them, things would be different, wouldn’t they? Without the automata, the Translation Chamber, the Library wouldn’t have nearly the advantage, and we’d be fighting fair.”

“I’m trying to help!” Morgan said. “And you know I never wanted this! I never wanted to be—”

“Whatever you wanted, you’re one of them. Doing this proves it more than anything else you’ve ever done,” Glain said. “And that’s why we shouldn’t trust you. How hard would it be for you to give us away?”

“She won’t,” Jess said, and got the full, scorching weight of Glain’s scorn.

“Says someone who can’t ever be rational on the subject of Morgan Hault. We shouldn’t do this. What if some other Obscurist
rewrites
this creature into a killer again?”

“It can’t be done without the same process I went through,” Morgan said. “It doesn’t work that way. You can order them to do a limited number of things by Codex commands, but not change their loyalty—”

“I don’t trust you,” Glain said flatly, and looked Morgan right in the eyes. “I have no idea what happened to you in that tower. What might
have been done to you. All I know is, you’ve shown up here and we’ve all just accepted that you’re
safe
, like this lion. You aren’t. You’re even more dangerous.”

Santi stepped in the way, facing Glain, and said, “Glain. She’s given you no reason to distrust her, has she?”

Glain didn’t want to answer that, but she finally muttered, “Not as yet.”

“Then the matter’s settled. Keep your eyes open and not just on Morgan, all right? We have enough enemies without inventing more.” She nodded but didn’t change her position from the door. “Go introduce yourself to the lion. That’s an order.”

She looked at him for so long, Jess was afraid she’d refuse, but then she pushed past him and stood in front of Frauke to be nudged and cataloged like the rest of them. She didn’t touch the lion. Didn’t stand it for one second longer than she was forced to before she stalked away.

Frauke tried to follow, then checked herself as Thomas said, “Frauke. Stay.” She padded back to Thomas’s side and sat down, as obedient as a dog on a leash. “Frauke, you obey our commands now, yes?”

Hard to tell if she understood that, but Thomas had been right: there was an eerie simulation of
thought
in these creatures. Even intention. It was impossible, looking at Frauke now, to see the relentless killing machine she’d been before. Glain was also right: Morgan had, with a few simple, powerful strokes of the pen, made a killer into a pet. That kind of power shouldn’t exist, and it made him cold to think what could be done with it in the service of the Archivist.
This is how they’ve kept power. Frighten us with monsters. Kill us when all else fails.

Maybe that was the nature of power. Jess didn’t know, but he didn’t like to think of himself as being part of it.

He held to one thought: if they could change Frauke, maybe . . . maybe they could also, eventually, change the Library.

Text of a message from the Artifex Magnus to the Archivist Magister, marked URGENT

They are together. Free. They have the young Obscurist.

If they get away as a group, if Wolfe and Schreiber together can make their machine and teach others how to make it, then we lose
everything
. Knowledge becomes a common currency, as cheap as paper and ink, and all of the sanctity of the Library is lost.

It is what I told you from the beginning: there is no compromise with rebellion. You coddled Wolfe for Keria’s sake, and now it has led to this.

We have no choice. This is a threat we must deal with, quickly and decisively, whatever it costs.

Reply from the Archivist Magister, marked URGENT

You were right from the beginning, and I regret I was too cautious.

Kill them all.

T
he delay in the arrival of Santi’s party had simply been caution; they’d stayed well away from any areas where they might have been noticed, and ate a long lunch instead—a fact that made Jess realize he was starving. Glain silently passed out rations and water, and let Thomas have three times as much as anyone else; it wasn’t as good as the cold meats and cheeses that the others had enjoyed, but it’d do for now.

Glaudino, clearly out of patience with his confinement—understandably; he and his workers had been locked in a small space for better than three hours now, and even with the food and water Glain gave them, they were likely miserable—began banging on the door again and threatening them with dire punishment. Frauke, crouching in the corner, swung her head that direction and growled. Despite knowing it was wrong, Jess felt a guilty spike of pleasure. Nice having something deadly on their side. “So, what about them?” Glain asked Santi.

“Tie them, but leave them without gags. They can yell for help as much as they like once they wake up.”

“Wake up— Oh.” Glain nodded. He walked with her to the closet door, aimed, and gestured for her to open it. He dropped Glaudino first with a well-placed stun shot, then the other two, and dragged them out to tie their limp arms and ankles together. He and Glain settled the prisoners against the wall, and while they were at it, Jess turned to Wolfe.

“We still don’t have an exit plan,” he said. “Do we?”

“You do,” Morgan said, and moved to stand beside him. She put her hand on Frauke’s stiff metal mane. “If you get me to Rome’s Translation Chamber, I can send you where you want to go. Let me help you. This is why I came, to make sure you could get away safely.”

“And to run away from the Iron Tower,” Wolfe said. She gave him a look, and he shrugged. “I am not blaming you. I, of all people, understand.”

“There’s a problem with that plan: no doubt the High Garda will be thick as fleas in the Translation Chamber by now, not to mention on every road leading to it. They’ll know that’s our best escape,” Dario said. “We’d be playing right into their hands. Maybe Jess’s illegal cousins would be a better idea, grubby criminals that they are. I’d rather have a long, tiring ride in the back of a wagon than a cell under the basilica.”

“It’s too late for that,” Jess said. “My cousins generally aren’t in the business of being heroes. Our code is:
Get caught, count yourself dead
.”

“Pleasant folk you come from,” Dario observed. “All right. Maybe we can buy our way out of the city. There must be someone who wants a fat purse and no questions asked.”

“There’s another option,” Santi said, rising from where he’d finished tying up their unconscious captives. “We can go where they
don’t
expect us. Rome doesn’t just have one Translation Chamber. It has two. Morgan? You came in that way. So did Wolfe. Did you destroy it or only disable it?”

Santi was right: they had a decent chance, if all of the basilica guards were out looking, of walking right into the heart of the enemy’s stronghold and using it for escape.

“And what then?” Khalila asked. “Say we get away. Where do we go? Where’s our safe haven? What chance do we have of staying free of the Library for any length of time at all?”

“None,” Dario said. “Not unless we find allies, quickly. Jess isn’t willing to put his neck on the block, so someone has to.” He looked
across at Santi, and nodded toward the men unconscious on the floor. “How long are they good for?”

“An hour, at most,” Santi said. “What are you thinking?”

“I don’t want to explain. Give me half that time,” Dario said. “If I’m not back, then let Jess try to enlist his criminal brethren or run for the basilica. But I
might
be able to help with allies and a safe haven.”

“Dario!” Khalila grabbed for him, but he was quick, the arrogant Spaniard. He grabbed her hand instead, raised it to his lips, and then pressed the back of it to his forehead as he bowed. “Don’t go.”

“Why should Jess always be the one to run off on his adventures?” Dario sent Jess a wide, confident grin. “Half an hour, scrubber. Start the clock.”

Then he was gone.

“We can’t—” Khalila looked at Santi, then Wolfe. “We can’t just let him
go
!”

But they did.

Dario Santiago didn’t come back.

T
he hour slipped away, and they waited as long as they could. Glain quietly suggested stunning Glaudino and his workers again, but Santi shook his head. Another shot risked real injury, possibly even death, and he didn’t intend to leave bodies in his wake today unless they had no choice in the matter.

“He knows the plan,” Santi said. “We head for the basilica. Twilight is our best time; people will be heading home or out to take the evening air. It’ll be harder to recognize us.”

“No!” Khalila pulled away from him, from all of them, and backed toward the open door of the workshop. “No, I’m not going to leave Dario behind. Jess—” She tried to get him to look at her, but he couldn’t. Wouldn’t.
“Jess!”

“The captain’s right,” Jess said, and hated himself for it. “We can’t wait. I’m sorry. He didn’t say where he was going, and we don’t even know where to start to look for him.”

“Then we
try
! We came back for Thomas! We can’t just abandon Dario!”

She read their faces, and then, without warning, dashed for the door. Jess had seen that coming, though, and he was faster. He wrapped her in his arms, and she fought him surprisingly hard, with sharp, precise blows that almost made him let go. Almost. He protected himself as best he could. “Stop.
Stop.
He’ll be all right, Khalila!” He looked to Glain for help. She folded her arms.
Traitor.

“No, he
won’t
. You know he won’t! He’s not like you! He wants to show you that he can be just as clever, just as fast, just as . . .” She hit him again, this time a knee square to his family jewels, and he did let go. “Just as
ruthless
! And if you ever lay hands on me again, I will kill you, Jess Brightwell!”

“I believe you,” he gasped, and struggled not to double over. Failed. He’d done his best, and when Khalila moved to the door again, this time it was Scholar Wolfe who got in her way.

She didn’t attack Wolfe the way she had Jess. Maybe she didn’t have the stomach for it when Wolfe put his hand on her shoulder and said, in that dark, strangely gentle voice, “We’ll find him, Khalila. But not now. Now we have to look after ourselves.”

“Scholar—” Khalila’s voice was shaking. “I can’t abandon him.”

“You aren’t. He knew the risks. He wouldn’t want you to act impulsively, he’d want you to
think.
It’s your defining feature. Your grace. Your strength.”

She took in a slow, shaking breath, and turned away. Her face was set and terrible, her eyes like dark pits, and she met no one else’s gaze as she nodded. “Then let us run,” she said, in a voice drained of anything but anger. “Run and hide, like frightened rabbits. How does this change the world, cowering in the dark? They’ll pick us off one by one. Dario is only the first.”

“We’ll get him back,” Santi said. “Dario’s smart. He’s tough. He will survive this.”

Maybe he’ll survive because he never meant to come back.
It was a sickening thought, but Jess was a practical young man. He didn’t have Khalila’s idealism, or her love-distorted view of Dario.
Maybe he’s selling us out. In which case, we’d better move even faster.

There was nothing else to say. Jess pushed pain to the background. He’d need to be ready to run or fight; this was still not guaranteed escape.
And if we get to the Translation Chamber, what then? Where do we go?
London,
he thought. It was half instinct, going home, but it was also practical. His family resources could be commandeered from there, and his family had plenty of hiding places and bolt-holes; if he and Thomas showed Callum Brightwell the plans for the press, his father would be the first to recognize the potential. Reproducing books had the potential to increase his black-market business ten thousandfold.

No more black sheep of the family. Jess would be welcomed with open arms, and the Library would never lay a hand on any of them. Callum didn’t hold with Burner theories, but he wasn’t a man to despise a good alliance, either; the Burners would be equally interested in the press, and what it meant for them to break the Library’s stranglehold. It could be done.

If
they got away from Rome.

“Frauke,” Thomas said, and the lion immediately climbed to four paws, razor-barbed tail twitching. “Follow.”

Jess took one last look back at Glaudino’s workshop as they threaded their way through the outer room full of silent, still automata. It was an eerie sight, seeing Frauke ghosting silently along behind Thomas between her identical dead automaton twins. It was going to give him nightmares the next time he closed his eyes.

Then they were outside and pushing the door shut, and heading for the last place Jess wanted to face again. The logic of the plan was sound enough: the High Garda truly would be searching for them on the roads leading out of town, stopping carriages and transports, heavily guarding the central Roman Translation Chamber.

But not the heart of their own power. Besides, they’d already have realized that Morgan had disabled the secret Translation Chamber. It was likely they’d consider it totally useless.

Useless things weren’t guarded at a time like this.

“We’ll have to enter through the public side,” Scholar Wolfe said. “There’s a staff door at the back of the Serapeum that leads into the basilica; it might be guarded, but not heavily. They won’t expect us there.”

“What about the lions on the steps? They would have been alerted to us by now,” Morgan said.

Thomas sighed and looked back at Frauke, pacing steadily behind them with her eyes glowing bright, her head held high. “I’m sorry, Frauke. But we will all have to do our part, I think.” He looked scarecrow thin, all large bones and angles, and with his hair and beard cut close he seemed so much older than Jess remembered him. But still gentle.

How he managed that, Jess couldn’t imagine. He’d lost his optimism so long ago, he could hardly remember how it felt, and he’d never been locked in that terrible, dark place. Never been dragged into that torture room.

Thomas seemed all right, but Jess could tell it was a fragile kind of strength, floating on a river of adrenaline and hope. That tide would turn, and then the weight of the darkness would press on him, as it did on Wolfe. Jess knew he’d need to keep good watch on his friend when the shadows came for him.

Rome seemed utterly normal as evening fell, and the sky faded from blue to a greenish teal. Stars emerged in shy peeks, then gaudy sprays. Their little party passed brightly lit restaurants, and Jess’s stomach growled from the scent of roasting meats and fish.

Having Frauke with them made a difference. People made way for them, some with respectful bows, since Glain, Jess, and Santi were all clearly armed High Garda, and the others, except Morgan, wore Scholar’s robes. Morgan walked next to Wolfe, like a favored student or a fond daughter.

And the lion, Frauke, paced behind them, a silent and watchful guardian that warned off even Burner sympathizers from any confrontation. Strange, how good it felt to have that power at his back, at his command. Jess didn’t entirely like it. Too easy to become dependent on it.

But it did make their walk to the Forum efficient.

Standing in the shadow of Mercury’s feet, in virtually the same spot where Burners had died only two days before, Wolfe and Santi assessed the situation of the basilica. As they’d predicted, it
did
seem quiet. People proceeded in and out of the public area of the Serapeum, and most of the pride of automata patrolled farther down. There was a lion crouched beside the open Serapeum door, scanning those who entered.

“Can you turn it off?” Santi asked Jess, and he nodded.

“I can if it’s distracted.”

“That’s my job,” Santi said.

“Nic—,” Wolfe protested, but Santi cut him off.

“No. I’m the better option. They’ll all have me first on the list; after all, I’m the one who betrayed my own company.” Even as he said it, Jess saw the pain that flashed through him, quickly banished to some dark corner inside. Captain Santi loved the High Garda; he loved the men and women under his command, and the responsibility he held for the lives of Scholars.