“How far behind us are they, sir?” Glain asked Santi. He was still breathing raggedly and favoring his side, but he seemed better. Functional, at least.
He was checking over his weapon, and didn’t look up as he replied, “Fifteen minutes until they’re in the tunnels, if we’re lucky, and I wouldn’t count on luck.”
“We have to get back to the Translation Chamber in the basilica,” Morgan said. “It’s our only way out. It’s how we planned to leave!”
“The devil of battle is that plans change,” Santi said. “And if we go that way, we’ll have to go to ground somewhere and let the beehive settle before we try anything. Either that or risk the public exits.”
“They’ll be waiting at every one,” Wolfe said. “Rome isn’t an easy city to enter or leave. They can make sure we don’t slip away. Morgan’s right: Translation is our only way out.”
“Then we use the High Garda chamber, where I arrived.”
“Nic. It’ll be guarded and on high alert, and you know it. We must go back into the basilica.”
“I’d far rather deal with High Garda than a pack of automaton lions hunting just for us, with orders to rip us apart.”
“I’d rather not die,” Dario said flatly. “So perhaps we should think on it.”
“If the problem is with the automata . . .” Thomas’s voice came quietly, tentatively, and they all hushed to look at him. He almost seemed to flinch from the sudden attention and looked away. “If that’s what you need to fight, I might have a way. There’s an inventor in Rome, Glaudino. I visited his store on Via Baccina a time or two when I was younger. We should go there.”
“Do you think you can trust him?” Wolfe asked, and Thomas shook his head.
“No, of course not,” he said. “He’s very loyal to the Library. He’d never help us.”
“Then I don’t see how this helps—”
“Because he works with the lions,” Thomas said. “I’ll need Morgan with me. And Jess.”
“Why?” Santi demanded. He caught and held his gaze, and Jess saw a visible tremor run through his friend. Santi must have seen it, too, because he paused and softened his tone. “I’m sorry, Schreiber. We’re all on edge. What will you do there to help us?”
“I can make one work for us.”
“One what?”
It was Morgan who answered for Thomas. She’d gotten it far quicker than Jess. “An automaton lion,” she said. “Oh, Thomas, brilliant. Brilliant. Do you think we can do it?”
“Glaudino’s workshop repairs the Library’s automata,” Thomas said. “We should be able to fix one and make it work for us instead.”
Santi’s mind gears were turning again—Jess could see that—and he waited while the captain reconfigured plans, calculated odds, came up with an answer. “How long would you need?” Santi asked.
“I don’t know. A few hours,” Thomas said. “Not much more. The workshop won’t be guarded, I think.”
You think. Jess didn’t voice his doubts. It was still a good chance, and he knew Santi thought so, too. Glain looked more grim about it, but, then, she usually did.
“We’re too noticeable as a group,” Dario said.
“I do need Morgan,” Thomas said. “It takes an Obscurist to do some of this. And I’ll need Jess.”
“Fine. Brightwell and Hault, go find the workshop; Glain, go with them. Wolfe and I will take Seif and Santiago with us. We’ll meet you there on Via Baccina as soon as we can.”
It seemed equitable, and it separated the ones most hunted—Thomas and, conceivably, Morgan—from the rest, and Jess and Glain provided trained protection, even if Jess didn’t exactly feel his best. Jess nodded and helped Thomas up. “Morgan, you come with me. We have to scout and see where they’ve sent the lions out in the Forum.”
She nodded and gave Thomas a quick hug before going with Jess to peek under Jupiter’s robes. They had to get on hands and knees to crawl under, and as Jess helped her up, he spotted a High Garda soldier walking toward them. On impulse, he turned to her and said, “Run.”
It wasn’t a good plan, and she had a much better one. She melted against him, kissed him, and he entirely forgot what he’d been about to say, because the feel of her, the taste, the rich and wonderful reality of Morgan pressed against him drove any thought of imminent danger away, just for a few critical seconds.
By the time he pushed her back, the soldier had passed them by, shaking his head. Why wouldn’t he? Just another boy kissing a girl.
“Don’t do that again,” he told her, but he was still pressed against her, mouth hovering too close. It felt like the world had tilted under his boots to keep him there. “This is dangerous work, you know.”
“I know,” she said, and her eyes burned into his with real intensity. “Go buy me a scarf. Hurry.”
“A what?”
“A scarf. I need to cover my face.”