Frauke tried to follow, then checked herself as Thomas said, “Frauke. Stay.” She padded back to Thomas’s side and sat down, as obedient as a dog on a leash. “Frauke, you obey our commands now, yes?”
Hard to tell if she understood that, but Thomas had been right: there was an eerie simulation of thought in these creatures. Even intention. It was impossible, looking at Frauke now, to see the relentless killing machine she’d been before. Glain was also right: Morgan had, with a few simple, powerful strokes of the pen, made a killer into a pet. That kind of power shouldn’t exist, and it made him cold to think what could be done with it in the service of the Archivist. This is how they’ve kept power. Frighten us with monsters. Kill us when all else fails.
Maybe that was the nature of power. Jess didn’t know, but he didn’t like to think of himself as being part of it.
He held to one thought: if they could change Frauke, maybe . . . maybe they could also, eventually, change the Library.
EPHEMERA
Text of a message from the Artifex Magnus to the Archivist Magister, marked URGENT
They are together. Free. They have the young Obscurist.
If they get away as a group, if Wolfe and Schreiber together can make their machine and teach others how to make it, then we lose everything. Knowledge becomes a common currency, as cheap as paper and ink, and all of the sanctity of the Library is lost.
It is what I told you from the beginning: there is no compromise with rebellion. You coddled Wolfe for Keria’s sake, and now it has led to this.
We have no choice. This is a threat we must deal with, quickly and decisively, whatever it costs.
Reply from the Archivist Magister, marked URGENT
You were right from the beginning, and I regret I was too cautious.
Kill them all.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The delay in the arrival of Santi’s party had simply been caution; they’d stayed well away from any areas where they might have been noticed, and ate a long lunch instead—a fact that made Jess realize he was starving. Glain silently passed out rations and water, and let Thomas have three times as much as anyone else; it wasn’t as good as the cold meats and cheeses that the others had enjoyed, but it’d do for now.
Glaudino, clearly out of patience with his confinement—understandably; he and his workers had been locked in a small space for better than three hours now, and even with the food and water Glain gave them, they were likely miserable—began banging on the door again and threatening them with dire punishment. Frauke, crouching in the corner, swung her head that direction and growled. Despite knowing it was wrong, Jess felt a guilty spike of pleasure. Nice having something deadly on their side. “So, what about them?” Glain asked Santi.
“Tie them, but leave them without gags. They can yell for help as much as they like once they wake up.”
“Wake up— Oh.” Glain nodded. He walked with her to the closet door, aimed, and gestured for her to open it. He dropped Glaudino first with a well-placed stun shot, then the other two, and dragged them out to tie their limp arms and ankles together. He and Glain settled the prisoners against the wall, and while they were at it, Jess turned to Wolfe.
“We still don’t have an exit plan,” he said. “Do we?”
“You do,” Morgan said, and moved to stand beside him. She put her hand on Frauke’s stiff metal mane. “If you get me to Rome’s Translation Chamber, I can send you where you want to go. Let me help you. This is why I came, to make sure you could get away safely.”
“And to run away from the Iron Tower,” Wolfe said. She gave him a look, and he shrugged. “I am not blaming you. I, of all people, understand.”
“There’s a problem with that plan: no doubt the High Garda will be thick as fleas in the Translation Chamber by now, not to mention on every road leading to it. They’ll know that’s our best escape,” Dario said. “We’d be playing right into their hands. Maybe Jess’s illegal cousins would be a better idea, grubby criminals that they are. I’d rather have a long, tiring ride in the back of a wagon than a cell under the basilica.”
“It’s too late for that,” Jess said. “My cousins generally aren’t in the business of being heroes. Our code is: Get caught, count yourself dead.”
“Pleasant folk you come from,” Dario observed. “All right. Maybe we can buy our way out of the city. There must be someone who wants a fat purse and no questions asked.”
“There’s another option,” Santi said, rising from where he’d finished tying up their unconscious captives. “We can go where they don’t expect us. Rome doesn’t just have one Translation Chamber. It has two. Morgan? You came in that way. So did Wolfe. Did you destroy it or only disable it?”
Santi was right: they had a decent chance, if all of the basilica guards were out looking, of walking right into the heart of the enemy’s stronghold and using it for escape.