Ash and Quill(94)

"And do we tell the others?"

For answer, Dario reached in his coat pocket and took out a rolled sheet of thin paper. He let it fall open. It was the Alexandrian newspaper-a Library-linked document that refreshed itself with new words and illustrations every few hours. "I took the liberty of lifting it," he said. "Until we decide, you and I, what we will do. Because we know what our beloved friends will do, don't we?"

"Run straight into a trap," Jess said. "Like heroes."

"And you and I, we are not heroes." Dario gave a small, ironic smile, mostly to himself. "Much as I hate to admit that. But what we are might save all of us, and I think we have to settle for that."

"All right," Jess said, and leaned forward. "Then let's find out just how much of villains we're going to have to be."



Jess had no taste for it, but dinner wasn't optional; he'd tried to beg off, but the servant had been calmly insistent, and in the end, he'd followed her off to find the rest already gathered. The small reception room was still vast, and ornately decorated. The table could seat twenty, and only half that many took chairs.

His parents put on a good show of graciousness, but the strain was evident in every forced interaction. Wolfe maintained a chilly silence and left it to the more socially eloquent Santi to oil the conversational wheels; Jess elected to be seen and not heard, except for murmured comments to Morgan, who'd been seated to his right next to Brendan, and Khalila, on his left. Glain and Thomas seemed quiet, though in Thomas's case, it was because he was eating everything in sight.

Jess seemed to be the only one with a lack of appetite, but he forced himself to eat. Roast beef, mushy peas, mash. A solid meal, uncomplicated, but that was probably by design. In this, at least, he could thank his mother, who seemed to understand that they were still recovering.

It was toward the end of the meal that Callum Brightwell tapped his crystal wineglass with a knife and brought all the conversation to a halt as he rose to his feet. "I know this isn't a comfortable partnership," he said. "I don't like Library folk any more than some of you like me and mine. But we have enemies in common, and friends as well." He nodded to Anit, and then to Jess. "My son is more one of you than one of mine, and though that isn't a comfortable thing for a father to say, I'm proud of the company he's chosen. Tough and smart, all of you." He lifted his glass. "To our rebels. Confusion to our foes."

They all drank-Khalila, her water, and the rest, the free-flowing Brightwell wine. Some even echoed his toast. Not Jess. And, he noted, not Santi or Wolfe. Maybe they didn't like to see themselves as rebels. Or foes.

And, Jess thought, maybe they'd realized that it was entirely out of character for his father to be so grandly supportive.


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"Thank you for the most generous welcome," Wolfe said, once silence had fallen again. For once, he sounded less than mocking. A little less. "But we won't impose on you for long. Our place isn't here, hiding. It's in Alexandria, fighting for what we love."

"Don't be daft-you'll be slaughtered two steps inside the city, if you can even get there," Callum said. "You lot, always thinking of a fight as a gentleman's duel instead of a proper throat cutting. Must be the Library training, eh? Makes you convinced you're invulnerable."

Jess drew in a breath to say something, but he wasn't needed. Santi took another sip of his wine and beat him to it. "Some battles you have to fight face-to-face. Not in a dark alley."

"Knifing your enemy in a dark alley's how you avoid the fight in the first place," Callum replied. "Which is something those of us who have to scrape a living outside the Library's generosity know."

"Yes, we can all see the shocking poverty in which you live," Santi said. "Our fight is to free the Library to follow its real mission, not destroy it wholesale. That's for the Burners. And people like you."

"Oh, it's in my good interest to keep the Library alive, too. At least until it's no longer necessary, which will be several lifetimes from now, I'd imagine. So you needn't insult me by lumping me in with bloody Burners."

"He doesn't mean to insult you, sir," Khalila said. "But he's right. We have to bring light back to the temple where it's gone out. We can't kindle that fire from here."

"And you can't go there," Callum said, "or anywhere else, until it's safe. But not to worry, you're well protected, and we'll provide you with everything you need. Jess and Scholar Schreiber have seen to that. They'll be paying for your keep with a few jobs for me."