"The Romans probably called it something less flattering," Glain said. "Imagine what it would do to a human body."
Jess did, all too vividly, and his stomach clenched. He looked back at Captain Santi. The tall Italian stood there, staring at the destruction with a cold calculus. The weapon in his hands no longer seemed so beautiful.
"It's demonic," he said. "But this demon's out of hell now, and in our hands. And there's no going back from that now." He handed the weapon back to Thomas, who took it with the same solemnity. "Can you hide it? Make sure the Brightwells don't find it?" He cast a lightning-fast glance at Jess. "The other Brightwells."
"Yes," Thomas said. "Frauke will guard it for me."
"Can you make more?"
"Not like this," Thomas said. "Not without more gemstones. But smaller ones, with mirrors, yes."
"Then, do it. We may need them." Santi had stopped being their friend again and was now a High Garda commander; it was all in the way he stood, the way he looked at them. "No one talks about this. No one, for any reason. Understand?"
One by one, they nodded.
Wolfe said, "Tomorrow, we show Callum Brightwell the press."
"And then?" Thomas asked. "What will happen then?"
No one answered, but Jess had his suspicions.
And in the morning, after Callum Brightwell had been shown the miracle of Thomas's press, Jess saw the look that passed between his father and his brother, and he knew he was right.
Their usefulness to the Brightwells was fast coming to an end. It was time to make sure, as Dario had said back in Philadelphia, that they take command of the chessboard.
And that, Jess knew, meant sacrifices.
He waited until the deepest, darkest part of the night and slipped out of his room, down the long corridors. He checked Brendan's room first, but it was empty, the bed still neatly made.
He found Brendan and Anit in the one place he supposed he should have expected to find them . . . playing chess in the library where he'd last found Morgan reading. He had a vision of his girl bathed in sunlight, there in the chair, and wished with aching sincerity that he could go to her, be with her, avoid this moment forever.
But he silently walked in, sat down, and pulled up another chair.
Brendan and Anit played in silence for a few more moments. Anit took two pawns. Brendan took a rook. Then Anit froze, studied the board, and sighed. She tipped over her king. "Third time," she said. "I do not understand how you distract me. I'm very good at this."
"I'm better," Brendan said. "But Jess? Better still. Anyone outplay you these days, brother?"
"A few," Jess said. "Khalila, for one. Dario, occasionally." He glanced at Anit, then back at Brendan. Silently asking, Are we doing this in front of her? Brendan nodded, just a little.
Jess turned to the girl and said, "I thought you'd left."
"You knew better," she said. "Because you understand the game. You were born for it, even though you wish you were not."
"She says you remind her of her brother," Brendan said. "Ironic, because I don't, apparently. And if you're thinking what I believe you are, you're still underweight, you know."
"I know," Jess said. "But not enough to matter." He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "When will he do it?"
Anit raised her eyebrows and exchanged a quick glance with Brendan. His twin wasn't surprised. Anit was. "You told him?"
Brendan shook his head. "He was born to this, like you said. And he knows my da as well as I do. Maybe better, in some ways. He understands people in ways I don't." He began resetting the chessboard-not so much, Jess thought, to play a new game as to give his hands something to do. Restless, where Jess was suddenly and unexpectedly calm. "Da's sent out summonses to the family, those who can arrive in time. Three days. There'll be a trick pony show that you'll all be expected to attend, and then . . ." He didn't seem willing to say it. So Jess said it for him.
"Then the guards move in. My friends are taken prisoner, and Da ransoms them off. Some-Thomas, Wolfe, and Santi, at a guess-he's selling off to Red Ibrahim, who'll use them as bargaining chips with the Archivist. That's why Anit is still here."
Neither of the other two said anything. Jess caught the slight hitch in his brother's movements in placing the rook, and then the knight.
"Almost correct," Anit said. "I'm to take Khalila, Thomas, and Santi. Dario, your father plans to ransom back to Spain; he wants to build goodwill with the queen."
"And Morgan?" Jess asked. He sounded calm, as if it were all of academic interest. It wasn't. "Scholar Wolfe? Glain?"