“And what then?” Khalila asked. “Say we get away. Where do we go? Where’s our safe haven? What chance do we have of staying free of the Library for any length of time at all?”
“None,” Dario said. “Not unless we find allies, quickly. Jess isn’t willing to put his neck on the block, so someone has to.” He looked across at Santi, and nodded toward the men unconscious on the floor. “How long are they good for?”
“An hour, at most,” Santi said. “What are you thinking?”
“I don’t want to explain. Give me half that time,” Dario said. “If I’m not back, then let Jess try to enlist his criminal brethren or run for the basilica. But I might be able to help with allies and a safe haven.”
“Dario!” Khalila grabbed for him, but he was quick, the arrogant Spaniard. He grabbed her hand instead, raised it to his lips, and then pressed the back of it to his forehead as he bowed. “Don’t go.”
“Why should Jess always be the one to run off on his adventures?” Dario sent Jess a wide, confident grin. “Half an hour, scrubber. Start the clock.”
Then he was gone.
“We can’t—” Khalila looked at Santi, then Wolfe. “We can’t just let him go!”
But they did.
Dario Santiago didn’t come back.
The hour slipped away, and they waited as long as they could. Glain quietly suggested stunning Glaudino and his workers again, but Santi shook his head. Another shot risked real injury, possibly even death, and he didn’t intend to leave bodies in his wake today unless they had no choice in the matter.
“He knows the plan,” Santi said. “We head for the basilica. Twilight is our best time; people will be heading home or out to take the evening air. It’ll be harder to recognize us.”
“No!” Khalila pulled away from him, from all of them, and backed toward the open door of the workshop. “No, I’m not going to leave Dario behind. Jess—” She tried to get him to look at her, but he couldn’t. Wouldn’t. “Jess!”
“The captain’s right,” Jess said, and hated himself for it. “We can’t wait. I’m sorry. He didn’t say where he was going, and we don’t even know where to start to look for him.”
“Then we try! We came back for Thomas! We can’t just abandon Dario!”
She read their faces, and then, without warning, dashed for the door. Jess had seen that coming, though, and he was faster. He wrapped her in his arms, and she fought him surprisingly hard, with sharp, precise blows that almost made him let go. Almost. He protected himself as best he could. “Stop. Stop. He’ll be all right, Khalila!” He looked to Glain for help. She folded her arms. Traitor.
“No, he won’t. You know he won’t! He’s not like you! He wants to show you that he can be just as clever, just as fast, just as . . .” She hit him again, this time a knee square to his family jewels, and he did let go. “Just as ruthless! And if you ever lay hands on me again, I will kill you, Jess Brightwell!”
“I believe you,” he gasped, and struggled not to double over. Failed. He’d done his best, and when Khalila moved to the door again, this time it was Scholar Wolfe who got in her way.
She didn’t attack Wolfe the way she had Jess. Maybe she didn’t have the stomach for it when Wolfe put his hand on her shoulder and said, in that dark, strangely gentle voice, “We’ll find him, Khalila. But not now. Now we have to look after ourselves.”
“Scholar—” Khalila’s voice was shaking. “I can’t abandon him.”
“You aren’t. He knew the risks. He wouldn’t want you to act impulsively, he’d want you to think. It’s your defining feature. Your grace. Your strength.”
She took in a slow, shaking breath, and turned away. Her face was set and terrible, her eyes like dark pits, and she met no one else’s gaze as she nodded. “Then let us run,” she said, in a voice drained of anything but anger. “Run and hide, like frightened rabbits. How does this change the world, cowering in the dark? They’ll pick us off one by one. Dario is only the first.”
“We’ll get him back,” Santi said. “Dario’s smart. He’s tough. He will survive this.”
Maybe he’ll survive because he never meant to come back. It was a sickening thought, but Jess was a practical young man. He didn’t have Khalila’s idealism, or her love-distorted view of Dario. Maybe he’s selling us out. In which case, we’d better move even faster.