Ink and Bone

‘And the diagrams?’

‘I drew them in my personal journal.’

Oh God.

His horror must have shown, because Thomas went very still now, very sober indeed. ‘You think this is dangerous.’

‘I can’t be sure,’ Jess admitted. ‘But yes. Very dangerous.’ There was only one person he felt they could trust. ‘I’m going to go ask Wolfe.’ Jess handed the page back to Thomas, and his friend sat down on a chair near his press, holding the paper in both hands. His whole body seemed loose now. Beaten.

‘I thought …’ Thomas took in a slow breath, and let it out. His shoulders sagged even more. ‘I really thought that it might bring Morgan back to you.’

How very like Thomas it was, for that to be his goal. Jess wanted to shake him, and embrace him, and it made his heart ache because it was the kindest thing anyone – even his family – had ever done for him.

‘Thomas, you shouldn’t have done this, especially not for me. Let me talk to Wolfe,’ he said. ‘Don’t say anything. Can you lock this up? Hide it?’

‘I – yes. You’ll have to help.’

It was brutally heavy, but Thomas had built it on wheels, and there was a heavy old door at the end of the room that opened into a narrow, abandoned pantry where food had once been stored. A cold room. With the two of them pushing, they managed to fit it through the narrow door and roll it in. It just barely fitted. There was a hasp on the outside, but no lock. Thomas hunted around in the shelves and found an old, rusted one that still worked. It helped add to the illusion that the room was long-abandoned, at least.

When it was done, the two of them were covered with splashes and smears of ink, and dripping with sweat. Jess had been tired before, but now he was dizzy on top of it as fear and work burnt away the alcohol. He felt sick and filled with a nervous energy that he knew wouldn’t go away soon.

Thomas still had the pressed page of the Argonautica in his pocket. Jess pointed to it.

‘Burn that, then go to bed,’ he said. ‘I’ll be back before morning.’

‘Do you want me to go with you?’

‘No,’ Jess said. ‘We’re going to be given placements tomorrow. One of us ought to get some sleep.’

‘You’re a good man,’ Thomas said, and slapped him on the shoulder hard enough to leave a mark. ‘A good friend. Thank you.’

‘Don’t thank me yet. Wolfe will tell you to destroy that thing, right down to the bolts.’

‘Or he might take it to the Artifex, and the world will change for the better. You’re too cynical sometimes.’

Maybe that was true. Maybe growing up in the Brightwell business had left him with scarred eyes that couldn’t see brightness, and left him afraid of the constantly looming shadows.

Better cynical and alive than optimistic and dead, Jess thought. It was something his father would have said, if his father had thought of it. And now I’m turning into my father. What a fantastic day this has been.

EPHEMERA

A handwritten message from Obscurist Magnus Keria Morning delivered to her son, Scholar Christopher Wolfe.

Seeing you tonight has left me restless. You are so angry, Christopher. So hurt. And I have tried my best to protect you, but you knew when you went against the Archivist that you would lose. You are still alive. Please cherish that gift, and stop trying to force change upon the Library. It is ancient, and set in its ways, and it stopped changing long ago. None of us can help that.

No matter what happens next, you must think of yourself, and Niccolo, and even those children I saw you with today. You are proud of them, I could see that. The Artifex could see it, and now, he knows he can use them against you, too.

We are not the same, but alchemy teaches us that blood is the strongest tie of all. I will not abandon you.

But neither can I save you again.

Give in. Give up.

Survive.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Hiring a middle-of-the-night cab proved impossible, and Jess ended up taking a near-empty public train back to the High Garda facilities, where he hoped he’d still find Captain Santi. He didn’t know how to locate Wolfe, and he didn’t want to send a Codex message. Someone would be watching.

He reported at the secured gates of the compound and had his Library bracelet flashed, which proved his temporary status was still activated. The presence of guardian statues once again raised his hackles. These were sphinxes, again, the same as lounged on the sides of the Alexandrian Serapeum. They seemed passive, and the guards who checked Jess’s credentials waved him through.

One of the sphinxes tracked him, turning its stone head as he passed. He tried not to imagine what it could do to him. It rose from a crouch to pace after him for a few steps, which made him cold to the bones, but it seemed to only be curious. Maybe it smelt the urgency on him, and the fear.

It studied him, and finally settled. The gate slid shut without incident behind him.

That wasn’t the end of it, of course. More automata were placed inside, on the large walkway that led to the front of the multi-storey barracks, the offices, the unit headquarters, and the place they took their ease, the Hive. He took that last pathway, past an automaton that was modelled on a Spartan soldier. Having it look human didn’t make it less alarming, especially when the eyes flared red and the whole body twisted into a crouch, spear at the ready. The spear it held was real, and so was the sword. Could they make an army of them? Jess wondered. Maybe. Maybe Thomas would be the one to make them.

The thought of Thomas’s gifts being twisted that way made him angry.

Jess entered the front doors this time, instead of the back way. It was just as busy, and he paused to get his bearings. It was, if anything, even noisier and more crowded than before, but he pushed his way through to the place he’d been drinking with the others … and where he’d last seen Wolfe, with Santi.

They were both gone now, but asking after them among some of Santi’s very drunken soldiers got him directions to the captain’s lodgings, which were only a short walk from the base gates. That mean braving all the statues again, but having already cleared him, they ignored him this time.

He was feeling bone-tired by the time he found Santi’s small doorway and knocked. It was well into hours when no sane person made visits, but the captain opened the door and stepped back without any comment. Not even a question. Surely what are you doing here at this hour was warranted.

‘I need to talk to Wolfe,’ Jess said.

Santi paused in the act of tying the sash of his silken robe, but didn’t look up. ‘Presumptuous, but correct, because he lives here. Sit down, Brightwell.’

Santi’s command tone was out, and Jess found himself obeying the order without question. Santi sat down across from him. He folded his hands on the table and looked at Jess with an unreadable expression.

‘Are you going to let me talk to him, or do I have to start shouting?’

‘Just listen,’ Santi said. ‘I’ve known Wolfe since we were both postulants. Everyone knew he was to become the next Artifex Magnus, or even the next Archivist. He was brave, brilliant, intuitive, dedicated … he had everything the Library wanted. But he had one thing they didn’t want: imagination.’

Jess was getting more impatient with every tick of the clock, and he found himself picking at a rough spot in the wood, worrying it with his fingernail. ‘Is there a point to this?’

‘Wolfe recognised that the Library had stopped moving forward about two hundred years ago. It wasn’t changing. It couldn’t, because it needed Obscurists to do its work, and as fewer were found, it had to hold tighter to each one. And then squeeze. And then strangle.’ Santi shook his head slowly. ‘Wolfe had an idea of how to sweep all that away and rebuild the Library anew. It was brilliant.’