Paper and Fire (The Great Library) (21 page)

That was not the Library he saw here in the tunnels. As the majority of Santi’s troops continued down the stone-walled hall beneath the pyramid and headed for the docks, Santi led them off to the right, down a narrower passage lit by flickering glows above. The glows were chemical, an older style, and sputtered unsteadily with a greenish cast to them. It made all the faces of Jess’s companions seem eerily lifeless.

Not a thing to think about before Translation.
The last time he’d been through this, he’d seen a classmate die and one broken by it. But he’d survived it once, and knew he could again.
I am a soldier now,
he told himself.
Soldiers take risks.

The group accompanying Santi consisted of the green-eyed lieutenant whom he’d sent to intimidate Jess, their squad, and another, more seasoned group of veterans who seemed totally at ease with the situation. One of them, a man who seemed ancient to Jess but was in reality about his father’s age, caught sight of Jess’s face and laughed. “Don’t worry, boy, you’ll come through in one piece,” the soldier said, and shoved him ahead through an open set of double doors. “Might not enjoy the trip, but at least we travel in style here. Seen a lot worse!”

The old soldier was right. This
was
far different from the Translation Chambers Jess had seen in Alexandria and in their last arrival point in England. The one in Alexandria had seemed chaotically full of machinery, steam, pipes, gears, sparks. It had felt at once ancient, untidy, and unfinished. Maybe it had been under repair.

The one in England had seemed bare and grubby. He’d have expected Alexandria to have the best of everything, but as he stepped into this Translation room in Darnah, he was struck by how sleek it was. The floor was bare stone, cool beneath his boots. The ceiling stretched high, and what machinery was visible was only glimpsed behind barriers or rafters above. A single bronzed cable dropped down from the unseen machinery to hang down in a circle of light, in which lay a curved, reclining chair made of the same stone as the floor, with a metal helmet next to it.

“I wish I understood this better,” Jess said to Glain, who gave him a quelling look. “What? It would make me feel better knowing if I’m to be torn to pieces and put together again.”

“Didn’t you pay attention at all in alchemy classes in school?”

“My schooling was more . . . practical.”

“The principle’s simple enough. The Obscurist uses the element of quintessence to pass you through a fluid that rectifies your form in one
place and purifies it in another. The quintessence exists everywhere at once. All things pass through it in creation and destruction.”

“Are you quoting a textbook?” he asked her, and she smirked.

“Why not? You never read it.”

“I was wrong. This little lecture didn’t help at all.” He paused and looked around. “The Artifex. Is he here?”

“He arrives later. We go first to secure the arrival point,” she said. “I’d think you would have already figured that out.”

Of course the evil old man would think of his own safety first; he’d wait until Santi’s security was in place,
then
join him. Then be escorted directly to whatever it was he found it so important to do in Rome. Was it to see Thomas? Was that why he was heading there? Jess had a flash of the Artifex Magnus’s severe, bearded face, and felt his fists clench. He deliberately relaxed them. Ironic that he’d been chosen to protect someone he most wanted to see dead. He wouldn’t find himself shedding a lot of tears if the Artifex suffered a heart attack during Translation, but he’d do his duty. He had to.

Didn’t mean he had to like it.

Ahead, Captain Santi was speaking to his lieutenant, who listened with perfect focus, nodded, and turned toward the rest of them. “Attention!” Her voice cut clean through the chatter, and they all stiffened into inspection stance. “We’ll be traveling by Translation, which means that when your name is called, you will sit in the chair, fit the helmet on your head, and follow instructions. To answer any questions you have: yes, it will damn well hurt. Yes, you are allowed to scream if you feel the need. Yes, we are allowed to mock you for it later.” She smiled, and there was a ripple of laughter from the veterans. “We have two new recruits in the Blue Dogs.”

The squad made that chesty barking sound again, and this time, Jess and Glain both joined in. Without being ordered, they stepped forward in unison.

“Show these dogs how it’s done, new dogs. You first.” The lieutenant
pointed to Jess.
Of course.
He stared at her for a beat, then saluted silently and walked toward the chair. Glain said quietly, “Do us proud.”

Jess didn’t give any sign he’d heard. He sat on the cool, hard surface of the reclining chair and swung his legs up. The pack on his back was bulky and uncomfortable, but he ignored that and reached for the Translation helmet, which was surprisingly light. Compared to the one in Alexandria, this one seemed more finished, more integrated, though it still had protruding tubes that glowed with a strange light. It fit snugly around his head, and as the padding pressed down, he felt cold metal points touch his scalp, not quite sharp enough to pierce. They felt like chips of ice against his sweating skin.

A man in gold Library robes stepped forward. He was younger than Jess expected, of Chinese heritage, and around his neck he wore the wide golden collar of an Obscurist. “You’ve done this before,” he said to Jess in a conversational tone as he reached for the bronze cable descending from the roof and connected it to the top of the helmet. The snap of it clicking into place seemed to echo through Jess’s bones. “Good—you know what to expect. Deep breaths.”

“In bocca al lupo,”
Captain Santi said.

“In bocca al lupo,”
Jess replied, and nodded to the Obscurist. “I’m ready.”

The phrase meant “in the mouth of the wolf,” and that was what it felt like when the Obscurist put his hands on Jess’s helmet and the machines powered up around them. It felt like the wolf had him in its jaws as power surged down into the conductors in the helmet and ate him from within, like a wild storm, like a hungry animal, ripping him to pieces in a slow, torturous explosion of blood and bone, organ and flesh, and he heard himself give a short, agonized cry . . .

And then darkness, and the slow waves of sick pain, and he compulsively sucked in a breath as if he’d never breathed before. Everything felt wrong; every nerve burned with fire and salt, and he rolled on his side with his stomach lurching violently. He was lying on a reclining chair
similar to the one he’d been on before, but instead of a helmet beside him, there was a metal bucket.

He grabbed it and vomited up his breakfast. A Medica professional in Library robes was there to steady him, and she checked him over with brisk efficiency. “You’ll be fine,” she said. “Water’s over there. If you have headaches later, report them. Oh, and take the bucket. There’s a sink over there. Empty and wash.”

She set down another bucket by the chair, stepped back, and waited, dismissing Jess from her concern. He staggered over to the sink, dumped the bucket, and washed it, and by the time he was done with that task, he heard Glain behind him, gasping for air. He put down the bucket and turned. She looked sick and blank for a moment, then controlled her breathing and sat up. She didn’t quite vomit, but he could see from the press of her lips that she was seriously considering the option. The Medica helped her up, and Glain almost immediately shook free. “Brightwell?” She blinked, and he knew she was having trouble focusing her blurry eyes.

He stepped into the light. “Here, Glain.”

“Good.” She tried for a smile, but it didn’t look right. “You only half screamed. You’re getting better at this.”

“You, too,” he said. “Fast recovery.”

It wasn’t protocol, but no one else except the Medica was in the room, so when she held up her hand, he clapped it in salute. “Dario and Khalila,” he told her in a whisper. “Santi’s lieutenant told me they’re safe.”

“Safe how?”

He shrugged in answer. “Don’t know. But there’s more: Wolfe remembered. The secret prison is in Rome. Morgan confirmed that. We just don’t have final proof that Thomas is inside.”

Glain had a thousand questions, he could see it, but this wasn’t the time. They took up an at-ease position against the wall and waited for the rest to arrive.

Watching arrivals was almost as sickening as going through it himself.
Jess stood stoically as one after another, the other members of their squad formed in swirls of blood and bone from the air, solidifying into themselves in the support of the stone chair. Most of the other soldiers made it without giving in to the nausea.

Santi’s lieutenant arrived and swung her legs off to push herself to her feet after just a bare few seconds, as if she’d only sat down for a rest. Santi came right behind her, and with even less time for adjustment. Neither of them seemed impaired in the least.

“Form up!” the lieutenant barked, as Santi walked on. She followed, and the rest of them fell in behind in perfect order.

Then they boarded carriers again. Jess remembered Santi’s observation that the Translation Chamber in Rome was at least a mile from the basilica, and he’d been right, but at least it was a short ride. Jess hardly had time to get uncomfortable before they were ordered out again, formed up, and walked down a long stone-and-column hallway to an arched entrance that glowed with the light of sunset. Beyond was a long, steep fall of worn stone steps; on the steps lounged an entire pride of Library lion automata. They sat still, like the statues they resembled, and they were different from the English versions. These had larger manes that stood out stiffly and curled down in ringlets on broader chests. Magnificent and
huge.
Beyond a doubt, deadly.

Santi opened his Codex and scrawled something in it, and Jess saw all ten of the lions turn their heads in a smooth, eerie motion to look back at them. Their eyes flickered from dark to red, and one by one, they rose to their feet and began to pace the perimeter. Five remained on the steps, while the others patrolled farther.

Beyond the steps stretched Rome, and though Jess had thought the wonders of Alexandria had numbed him to everything else, the sight of the city stopped him cold. The square—no, this corner of the
Forum
—was surprisingly small and crowded with marvels. Temples of white marble blushed now with pink and gold by the sunset, and giant golden statues
of the Roman gods stood, with citizens passing beneath their feet without any thought for the splendor above. Pigeons lined the broad shoulders of Jupiter and the outstretched arm of Juno, both statues taller than any of the other monuments. The famous hills of the city rolled above, and the spreading palaces and homes of the rich beyond that, growing larger and more lavish the farther up they went.

It even smelled richer here than in Alexandria—fresh pines, lush soil, sweat, the sharp pickling vinegar of the fish being sold across the way in a food stall. That last made Jess’s stomach roil with hunger.

Everywhere he looked, there was the shimmer of marble and gold in the fading light, ancient wonders and modern marvels, and it was so beautiful it didn’t seem possible it had been built by the hands of men.

“Done gawking?” one of the veterans asked him, and he jerked back to awareness of who, and what, he was. Not a visitor who could take his time admiring the sights, but a soldier on duty. The veteran gave him a wide, sudden grin. “Nothing like Rome, boy. Gets us all the first time.”

“And every time after,” said Santi’s lieutenant from behind them. She didn’t sound impressed or amused. “Green Squad, you are down below, on the square. Blue Dogs, up here. Anything gets past Green Squad and the automata, it’s yours to deal with. Stay alert. Rome’s Burners always are.”

The idea that majestic, ancient Rome had Burners lurking in its shadows made Jess feel an actual pain in his chest. He’d seen what Burners could do with their bottles of Greek fire and the destruction they could cause. A small bottle was enough to burn a man to bones. Large glass bombs of it could reduce beauty to ruins, melt the gods, destroy one of the world’s greatest sights.

He hated what the Library did to protect itself, but there were times when he understood
why
it did it. So much could be lost, so easily, to such hate.

Jess was ordered to a post quite near the arched doorway where they’d come out. It had a thick metal door that Santi’s lieutenant closed behind her as she went inside, and Jess heard the heavy
chunk
of locks engaging.

It occurred to him then to turn and look back and up at the large, square structure they were guarding. It took a moment to come into focus, and when it did, he felt his body go hot as adrenaline flooded in.

He was standing on the steps of the Basilica Julia, facing the Forum. Though they had no proof, Thomas’s prison might, even now, be only a few feet below where Jess stood. The realization of that made him take a step back and look down at the ancient stone under his boots.

“Focus,” Glain said. She knew what he was thinking. “We do our jobs. Consider this reconnaissance for the mission.”

She was right, and he needed to get his bearings again and put Thomas, and any possibilities, out of mind. This could well be the place, but it was definitely
not
the time.

He took a breath to wrench his mind away from the possibilities and analyze the situation in front of him. They were out in the open, with no retreat behind, and ten automaton Roman lions stalking among them. Jess knew how the lions worked, how they thought, and he also knew that they weren’t particular about innocent victims when something rang their alarms. The automata in Alexandria had been alerted to watch him; had these? So far, none had so much as glanced his direction. The citizens passing through the square below, coming from and going to temples, government buildings, businesses, courts, shops, restaurants, didn’t seem to notice the increase in security, but Jess saw a pattern nevertheless. The area around the Basilica Julia cleared, and those who might have crossed in front instead took a longer route around. No one looked at the lions or at the soldiers or even at the basilica itself.