///
Jess swallowed. "No quarter," he said.
"That's why we must decide, once and for all, what each of us wants to do. There's a chance that if we hide, we could live out our lives in peace and obscurity. If we fight . . . if we fight, the Library will wage total war on us, wherever we go. There will be no safety. No rest. Win, or die."
"You make it sound so appealing."
"I mean to. Each one of you deserves the truth and is strong enough to stand up under the weight. I have known many Scholars and students. I have never met a more unruly, unteachable lot, and I thank the gods for forcing you all into my life." Wolfe's words were severe, but the look in his eyes, the quiet smile-those were anything but. They said, I am proud of you. "You came into this for me, in the beginning, and for Thomas. But this is your chance to walk away. Here, in the ashes, you can start new."
"You think that's what I want?" Jess asked. "To give up?"
"I think we'll all discuss it more," Wolfe said, and stood up. He indicated the bucket with one dismissive wave. "Empty that yourself; I'm not your nursemaid. And your brother wants to see you."
Jess said nothing to that. He didn't think he could stomach seeing Brendan just now. So, of course, his brother immediately threw back the tent flap and strolled right in.
Jess hadn't had much leisure to examine him before, so he did now, and it was like looking in a flawed mirror. His twin had lost the soft padding he'd acquired while lounging in Alexandria and falling in love with a Library girl; he looked more like the half-wild London urchin Jess had once been, and Brendan was dressed in an entirely wrong High Garda uniform and grinning like the devil on a drinking spree. Jess sat up, which served to remind him how incredibly sore he was, to lessen the height difference between them.
There was a terrible truth between them. It wasn't clear, and it wasn't spoken aloud, not yet, but Jess knew it all the same. His brother had arranged for the bombing of Philadelphia . . . how, he had no idea. But it had been horribly effective, both in securing them the chance at escape and in showing the Burners that double-crossing smugglers was bad, bad business.
Brendan didn't want to talk about it any more than Jess did, it seemed, because he noisily dragged over a camp chair, made a face at the bucket Wolfe had abandoned, and edged it away with one booted foot. "I came to tell you how your girl is doing. Thought that would be the first question you'd ask."
He was right, of course. Jess had been forming the question even as his brother spoke. He gave in. "How is she?"
"Morgan is receiving the best possible care from Library-trained Medicas," Brendan said. It sounded like an official, rehearsed answer that he'd been told to deliver.
"I said, how is she?" His brother looked down at his hands and rubbed his thumbs together. Another tell, but a new one, and Jess didn't know what it meant. It put him on edge. "Saint's sakes, just tell me!"
"Weak," Brendan said. "Burning up with some kind of fever that your Scholar Wolfe says has to do with her overusing her talents. He and that American doctor are doing their best, along with the Medica. Wolfe told me not to tell you. He thought you'd come rushing in."
"Exactly what I'm doing," Jess said, and sat up. The world melted and swirled around him, and he felt Brendan's strong hands holding him back from collapse. He tried to take in a deep breath, but his lungs weren't having it, and he heard a thick, noxious rattle of liquid in them. He coughed, and once he'd started he couldn't stop.
Brendan eased him back down again, and he wasn't in any shape to say no to it. The bunk felt safe, even if everything inside him was screaming to get up. "Nothing you can do but hover and look murderous," his twin said. "The rest of them are doing that on your behalf, I promise. You and Thomas got the worst of the smoke. You'll be coughing through the night. I'm to sit and make sure you don't choke on it or stop breathing. If you stop breathing, by the way, I'll beat you until you start."
"I don't think that's a valid Medica technique."
Brendan shrugged. "Seems fine to me."
"And why are you dressed in a High Garda uniform?"
"I was planning to kill you, dispose of the body, and take your place. After all, isn't that what twins do?"
"Stop."
Brendan cocked his head, a familiar gesture that made Jess want to cuff him on the ear. "Wouldn't do to be some civilian in the middle of this camp. Did you trade your brains for tasty pudding? The Library's swarming like a hive; they're dismantling the walls and sending troops in to search the city. Zara's securing us a transport and sending us on our way as soon as night falls. And I can't wait to be out of this damned uniform, because it makes me itch."