A great decision is now upon us. Will we be nothing but a mirror for Pharaoh to gaze into, to see himself as beautiful and powerful? Or do we follow our truest calling, that of benefit for all who seek to learn, and gather up this knowledge in the name of the seekers, the scholars, the teachers, the students? Is what we do nothing but a prop for a king, or is it a lever by which we move the world?
It falls to us to decide this. It will be difficult. It will be dangerous. Pharaoh has power and strength, and if we declare ourselves independent from his power, we must defend that independence with our blood. More, we must seek that same hard course of independence from every kingdom, every philosophy, every religion that would take us as its own prop, its own polished mirror in which to gaze.
I say, let us throw the bones and see what fortune brings us. Knowledge is power, so they say.
If so, then we have more than any king.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
He’s dead, Jess thought, and felt a wave of sick horror. My fault. She’d been aiming for a killing shot, and he should have been, too. He’d tried to save her, and she’d killed Captain Santi . . .
And then Santi pulled in a long, ragged breath. He gasped for air as the flexible armor in the center of his chest smoked, damaged by the shot. But it was over the plate. It had protected him.
She must have chosen her target as carefully as Jess had.
Zara still breathed, but his own shot had knocked her completely unconscious. Wouldn’t last long. They’d have to move fast; the clock was ticking down for her soldiers as well.
Jess grabbed Santi’s arm and dragged him to the hole, yelled, “Catch him,” and slid the captain through feetfirst. Then he gritted his teeth, got on the other side of the torture device that had been blocking the hole, and shoved with all his might. It grated a few inches—enough to disguise the opening, at least for a few moments. There was just enough of a gap left for him to skin through, if he didn’t mind the scrapes.
Jess sucked in his breath and wriggled down just as he heard the other soldiers yelling for the lieutenant. He landed hard—no one caught him—and rolled right into the metal bulk of the lion still blocking the tunnel.
It was still stopped, thank all the old and new gods.
Dario yanked him to his feet. “Move!” Dario said, and squeezed by the frozen automaton lion. Just beyond, Glain and Wolfe were holding Santi upright and Khalila was helping Thomas, nearly buckling under his weight. Jess hurried over to help. Glain had used one of the portable lights from her pack and they all glowed an unearthly yellow-green. In that light, Thomas looked like a corpse newly risen from the grave.
Santi looked almost as bad, but he was moving on his own, clumsily.
“You were supposed to watch out for him,” Wolfe said to Jess with a poisonously angry glare.
“I did,” he snapped back. “Come on. This way. Thomas, can you make it?”
“I will have to,” Thomas said. “Did you shoot someone?”
“Yes.”
“Was that in the plan?”
“No.”
“We’re well off the plan now,” Glain said. “And we’ve got no map to guide us.”
She didn’t mean the path; that was distinct. Jess’s markers were still clearly visible. She meant the soldiers on their trail, and the hue and cry that was sure to run faster than they could. Zara would wake up soon, and if they hadn’t already discovered their way out, she’d tell them where to look.
“We need a diversion,” Jess said.
“We need an army,” Glain corrected. “And last I looked, we’re about a hundred short of even a small one.”
“Shut up and run,” Dario told her as he replaced Glain on Santi’s left side. “You haven’t changed at all. Still a gloomy girl with a bitter disposition. Cheer up—we’re together again!”
If he hadn’t been wearing Scholar’s robes, she probably would have flattened him for that, but Glain settled for a scorching look and took the lead at an easy, long-legged lope. Jess broke out his light and took more and more of Thomas’s weight, especially as the tunnel began to incline upward—strong he might be, but the German had been chained in place for too long. As they approached the upper exit of the tunnel and the grate, Jess boosted Glain up, then Thomas. Thomas helped pull up Khalila, Morgan, and Dario, and Wolfe and Santi came last. Jess grabbed Glain’s hold to avoid Wolfe, who still looked at him with blank anger, and climbed quickly up.
They all crouched in the shadows beneath Jupiter’s robes. The Forum beyond was busy, which was a gift; Jess sent a silent prayer up to his Christian god, who must have called in a favor or two for this small miracle in a land loyal to other deities. The Library hadn’t sent the word out yet to clear the Forum.