Ink and Bone

‘Too much to drink, like the rest of us,’ Dario dismissed it, but he did let go of Jess’s shirt, and stepped back. ‘Did you find Thomas?’

Jess shook his head. He couldn’t find his voice, not yet.

‘Well then, come on. Wolfe’s waiting.’

With some enemies, it’s safer to let them destroy themselves. The Artifex, for all his massive power, was afraid of Wolfe. Why would that be possible?

It hit him as all the small, seemingly random pieces fit together in a blinding flash. Wolfe, born to Obscurist parents in the Iron Tower. Family co

Christopher Wolfe even looked like his mother.

And his mother was the Obscurist Magnus.

‘Jess?’ Glain put her hand on his shoulder. It wasn’t a gentle gesture, as it would have been from Khalila – more of a fellow-soldier tap that simply lingered. ‘Thomas. Do you know where he is?’

‘He’s dead,’ Jess said. He watched her eyes dilate in shock, and her expression go flat and lifeless. ‘Come on. Wolfe’s waiting.’

He shook off Glain’s hand and walked after the others, through dawn’s soft light, towards the Scholar Steps.

The sphinxes were restless today, red eyes glowing, heads turning as the four of them climbed the endless stairs. Thomas would have joked about it. He’d have offered to carry at least two of them on his back, and he’d have been strong enough to do it, at least part of the way.

His absence felt like … a severed limb. An emptiness so large that Jess couldn’t yet understand the shape of it.

He counted steps silently, just to keep his mind from chasing the image of Thomas’s last moments … of the Artifex, watching the cold, clinical execution of his friend. If the climb was tiring, he didn’t feel it. His body operated like a machine, like one of Thomas’s wonderful automata, and when he finally reached the landing at the top of the Serapeum, he realised that he had left the other three far behind, still toiling through the last third of the climb. His clothing – still what he’d thrown on when going down into the cellar to see Thomas’s marvellous press – was soaked through with sweat and clinging to him unpleasantly; his throat ached from gasping. He needed water before the sharp, stabbing aches in his calf muscles turned to crippling spasms.

Instead of resting, he went through the doors and down the hall to where he knew Wolfe would be waiting.

Pain was good. Pain helped.

There was no one else in the Reading Room but Wolfe, who was pacing the end of it in his Scholar’s black robe, head down, hands behind his back. Wolfe raised his chin and looked at Jess as he came forward, all the way to the long reading table at the front.

Jess sat down on the bench and said, ‘Where’s Santi?’

‘Home. They know where to find him any time they want, and of course the Artifex made sure that I know the litany of terrible things that could happen to a High Garda captain, regardless of his rank or commendations.’ Wolfe studied Jess for a beat before he said, ‘The Artifex told you about Thomas’s death.’

Jess said nothing, but he looked away.

‘He was a brilliant young man. I’d have saved him if I could.’ Nothing to say to that. He could feel Wolfe’s attention fixed on him, but held his silence. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine.’ He looked up at Wolfe and said, ‘You can’t give me an appointment to the Library. Keep me as far away from you as you can. Send me away.’

Wolfe might have asked him why, but by then, Dario was at the door, with Khalila and Glain close behind. They were all still breathing hard from the climb. No time to explain without extra ears listening, and Jess could no longer trust anyone.

The Artifex could have been lying to him, but he couldn’t take that risk.

Wolfe’s expression had changed again. The mask was back in place as the other three took seats at the table with Jess.

‘I had pla

‘How?’ Khalila’s face was tear-stained, and her eyes had welled up again. ‘How could this happen?’ Dario took her hand in his and silently held it. He was sprawled in his usual posture, but his head was down, hiding his expression.

‘I am told he did not suffer,’ Wolfe said. ‘It casts a wide shadow over what we must do today, but it can’t be helped. I believe he would want us to continue.’ His dark gaze raked over them, one at a time. Lingering. ‘Today, you become servants of the Library.’

He walked away to a side table, on which sat a sleek, black box with the symbol of the Library gleaming in gold on top. It unlocked with a faint click at a pass of his hand, and he took out a tight-wrapped scroll, sealed with wax, and a black box that was a miniature of the larger one. ‘Postulant Wathen.’

Glain came to her feet and to military attention, chin high. She accepted the box and scroll, and bowed. ‘I didn’t want it this way,’ she said.

‘Perhaps given that the scroll identifies you as appointed to the rank of Training Sergeant in the High Garda, you should become used to the hard business of losing those you value.’ He paused for a moment, and added, ‘Your future was never in doubt. Nor your worth to the Library. Your contract offers you five initial years of service. All you need do is sign the scroll and put on your bracelet. Your Codex will update with instructions on where to report for duty.’

‘Sir,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’ It wasn’t a formality. She really meant it. Her voice was just barely holding steady. ‘It is my honour to serve.’

She sat down.

‘Postulant Santiago.’ Dario wasn’t as militarily correct about it, but he stood. Wolfe retrieved another scroll and box, and handed them over. No bow from Dario, but then Jess hadn’t expected one. ‘You are an ambitious young man. If I have any advice for your future, it is to curb that ambition before it poisons you. I debated this. You have flaws. But your performance in Oxford, and beyond, convinced me that you can learn to be a better man. Therefore, the scroll contains an offer for a three-year contract as a Scholar, with a territory and speciality to be assigned by the Artifex Magnus. Sign and put on the bracelet if you accept.’

Dario’s mouth opened and closed, and Jess could see that he was biting back an acidic comment on the fact that Glain’s contract was longer than his own. He nodded stiffly, murmured his thanks, and sank down.

It was Khalila’s turn. ‘Postulant Seif, I am certain that no one would dispute that you have earned this many times over. The offer in this scroll is one that I have only seen a handful of times, and it comes directly from the Archivist. You are offered a lifetime appointment as a Research Scholar, which makes you a gold band, with all the attendant rank and privileges. And I can say that there is no one I would think better qualified to bring credit to the name of the Library.’ He held out her scroll and bracelet box, and she took them in trembling hands. Her tears hadn’t ceased.

Dario touched her gently on the back, steadying her, and she took in a deep, trembling breath to say, ‘I thank Allah for this chance to bring honour to my family. And I thank you, Scholar. May I ask … what was Thomas’s offer?’

‘The same,’ Wolfe said. ‘And for much the same reasons.’

Khalila turned to Dario and hugged him hard.

‘Postulant Brightwell,’ Wolfe said. He retrieved another scroll and box as Jess got to his feet. No, Jess tried to tell him with a silent, urgent stare. No, don’t give me an appointment, didn’t you understand? ‘You are many things the Library needs – brave, intelligent, ruthless – and quite a few things that it does not need. Your family history is against you. Your recent behaviour has called into question your loyalty—’