Paper and Fire

by Rachel Caine

  "Well," Jess said, "it was just a reference, ages old. Might mean nothing. The Artifex could have him anywhere. Anywhere the Library has a foothold."

  It was a depressing thought, and silence fell heavy. A breeze blew cool off the water, ruffling Khalila's scarf and dress, and Dario said, "We're not going to find him this way. The Archivist isn't a fool. He won't leave clues right out in the open. We have to dig deeper."

  "Where? It's a large world, Dario."

  The Spaniard looked away, out toward the harbor, and said, "I applied for a position with the Artifex Magnus. We all know he's the Archivist's right-hand man."

  "You what?" Glain barked, and she'd gotten it out a bare instant before Jess would have said the same. "Are you mad?"

  "Someone has to get close to him. Gain his trust. I can do that." Dario shifted his stare back to each of them in turn. "I'm the best suited--bright enough to be useful; not enough to be a threat. I'm ruthless. I have wealth and excellent family connections. And I have a certain charm."

  "I give you credit for leaving that to last," Jess said. It was a surprisingly accurate and unflinching self-assessment. He hadn't thought Dario quite so insightful about his own gifts and flaws. "What about your post with Scholar Prakesh? I thought you were happy there."

  "I am. But I thought we all agreed: this is for Thomas. I assume I'm not the only one willing to sacrifice."

  "You are not," Khalila said, and looked down at her folded hands. "I confess, I already applied to the Artifex as well."

  "You what?" Dario turned on her with a stare, which she met squarely.

  "Don't look so shocked," she said. "I am capable of just as much folly as you, you know!"

  "I don't want you to--"

  "Dario. What you do or do not want applies to you, not me. I didn't ask your permission, and I don't seek your approval!" Khalila's voice had taken on a hard edge, and Dario was the first to look away.

  "Congratulations," Glain said. "You're both wildly independent, and now the Archivist has to be wondering why both of you would want to get close to him at the same time. Clearly, neither of you are cut out to be spies."

  "Forgive us--we didn't grow up criminals and self-made adventurers!"

  "Dario, you know nothing about me," Glain said. She didn't sound angry, just a touch amused.

  "I meant the criminal part for Jess."

  "Yes, I got that," Jess said. "It's not a bad idea, getting close to the Artifex, but I doubt he'll take either of you up on it. He's not a stupid man."

  "Just a cruel one," Glain said. "We need more. Much more than this."

  "What about . . ." Jess hesitated, then plunged in. "What about the Black Archives?"

  They were all silent. He expected at least one of them to scoff, to dismiss them as rumor, but Khalila finally said, "I'll look into it."

  "Carefully," Glain told her.

  "I know. I should go," she said. "I have more work to do tonight. Dario?"

  "Go on," he told her. "I'm drinking."

  "I'm not," Glain said. "Khalila, I'll walk you back."

  Jess started to get up, but Dario kicked him in the shins under the table, hard enough to make him wince. "I'll have a cup," Jess said, and gave the other young man a sharp-edged smile. "See you later." Glain and Khalila walked away into the early evening, and Jess stared at Dario. "Well?"

  "Something for the two of us. I didn't want them involved."

  "Why not?"

  Dario shrugged. "It's a job for two, not four, and I know Glain. She'll push her way in if we let her."

  "And you don't like her."

  "Well, I don't like either of you, to be fair. But you're the one with the skill I need."

  "Which is?"

  "Smuggling," Dario said, and gestured to the waiter. "That's why we both need a drink."

  "You can't be serious," Jess said, and looked up at the tomb of Alexander the Great.

  Dario hadn't told him where they were going, or he'd have refused outright back at the cafe. Maybe the wine had lulled him too much, because he'd agreed to at least take a look. And now, here he was. Looking.

  Next to the Lighthouse and the Serapeum, the tomb of Alexander was the single most recognizable structure in Alexandria . . . a memorial that had survived in all its original gaudy glory. It crouched in the center of the lush park square, looking exactly like what it was: an overdone tribute to an oversized legend. Marble clad, of course, with statues of gold at each corner on each of four levels. The other statues that lined each level were stone, or looked to be, at least--warriors, horses, gods. On top, Alexander's chariot was drawn by mighty warhorses frozen in midcharge, and the boy king's statue showed him as handsome and glorious as the gods themselves.

  A pretty dark-eyed girl strolled past the two of them, and gave Dario a bright smile as she trailed a hand over the flowers planted on the path. The Spaniard smiled back and bowed to her, which elicited a giggle. Jess sighed. "Tell me we aren't here just so you can peacock to the ladies."

  "It's an added benefit," Dario said. "I'm supposed to meet someone here who may have a book for us."

  "Meet who, exactly?"

  "Am I supposed to ask for formal introductions when buying illegal things? I was under the impression it was more of a casual acquaintance."

  "Where did you meet this person?"

  "I inquired," Dario said. "I'm not without skills, you know. If you must know, he's a sailor out of Rome. He said he has a stolen logbook from a prison there."

  "Every city has a prison!"

  "This one is run by the High Garda. Not local police."

  Jess didn't like it. "Do you know him at all?"

  "No. Which is why I want you here, with your long history of . . . questionable things. I'll pay for the book, you take it away from here, and we will all live to read whatever it is I'm spending a ruinous amount of my savings to get."

  "Dario, buying black market is not your strength. You should have told me. I could have--"

  "There wasn't time," Dario cut in. "Are you going to help or not?"

  This wasn't the spot Jess would have chosen for such an exchange, either: too many casual strollers in this park, some with families. Too many ears to bear witness, and he hadn't missed the fact that there were two sphinxes roaming the park, too.

  The sphinxes weren't the only threats. One of the golden corner statues--Hera, he thought, the queen of the Greek gods--turned her head and tilted it down to regard them as they passed, though if she was holding up a corner of the building, she probably couldn't step away. Jess didn't care for even that much attention. And then he saw out of the corner of his eye that one of the sphinxes had padded down the path and stretched out in a long, low crouch not far away. It wasn't directly watching them, but the nearness of the thing made his instincts scream with alarm. It wasn't so much that he was afraid they were following him--though he had to admit, he was more than a little haunted by the idea they were--but that he didn't care for their closeness during such a highly illegal activity.

  Not that Dario would even think of that. He seemed to take automata as just part of the landscape.

  "I don't like this," Jess said. "It's too open, too obvious. Sphinxes. Call it off. We can meet somewhere safer."

  "I can't call it off, and I didn't pick the spot," Dario said. "This is my one chance to get this book. Go if you're too afraid. But I'd think someone so well versed in criminality would have a little backbone."

  "There's a difference between courage and blind arrogance," Jess said sourly. "Where is this contact of yours?"

  "He'll be here soon." Dario seemed oblivious to the threats. Jess's throat tightened as they neared the sphinx, and it turned that pharaoh's head toward them. The eyes gleamed dull red, then brightened.

  "Dario, we should go."

  "Ah, there he is." The idiot waved, and Jess spotted a man in plain working clothes trudging down a path toward them.

  Somewhere in the bushes, Jess heard a rustle. He turned his head toward the nois
e, and saw that another sphinx watched them through the hedge. The human-shaped face stared with eerie concentration, and the eyes burned bloody red.

  Jess forced Dario's arm down. "Inside. Get inside."

  "No, he's right there--"

  "Follow me. Now!"

  Jess turned and launched into a run back toward the tomb's entrance. He heard the crack of breaking branches and didn't look back. Dario was just a step behind, and caught up as the sphinx let out a sound like the high shriek of a hawk. It was coming for them. Jess put on a burst of speed, digging into his strides and lengthening them, and within four long steps he was past the hedges, and in another ten, halfway around the tomb building, with Dario struggling to keep pace. Screams rose as the pursuing sphinx rounded the corner at a lion's lope, and people who'd been casually enjoying the park dove out of its path and ran for the exits. Jess tried not to think about the damage it could do to innocent bystanders. He'd seen the raw, red destruction left by automaton lions in London. He and Dario were risking not just their own lives, but those of everyone caught in this place.

  Jess and Dario darted up the marble steps. "Why are they chasing us?" Dario demanded, gasping for breath. Jess hadn't even felt the run. Dario needed to get out from behind his desk more. "We're Library! We're wearing the bands! What in the name of God--"

  "They already knew! Your contact sold us out. Or someone sold him out," Jess shot back. "Did you think you could just stroll over and get handed something the Library kills people for? With no experience and no training, in a public place? Idiot!"

  Dario was utterly out of his element, all his composure shaken. For all that he'd survived Oxford and the disasters that came after, he'd never, until this moment, truly seen the Library as his enemy. He'd never understood what it meant to come face-to-face with its dark side. Jess almost envied him that. And almost pitied him.

  But there wasn't time for either.

  He'd never been inside this tomb before, but Jess knew the first level was a kind of museum, showing artifacts from Alexander's time--his armor, his sword, and more. With any luck, the sphinx's instructions wouldn't allow it to enter these precincts, where it could damage and destroy priceless history. But in case that wasn't true, Jess led Dario up another, interior set of stairs, two at a time, to a shadowy landing. His heart was pumping, but not completely in fear; there was a kind of exhilaration to this that was addictive. A deadly game. But still a game.

  Outside, the sphinx shrieked again. The other answered, and somewhere mingled with it was the bone-shattering scream of a human being in mortal pain and distress--a scream that cut off abruptly.

  Dario's eyes were wild as he said, "Did they--"

  "Kill your contact? Probably. Or some innocent who got in the way." Jess wanted to punch him for his deadly ignorance. "What did you think you were playing at, Dario? Were you trying to impress me?"

  Dario swallowed hard, opened his mouth, then closed it. "Maybe I was." Some awareness crept back into his expression, and he looked around. "I've never been in here. Have you?"

  "No." Another idiocy, Jess thought; Dario should have scouted this place thoroughly, on many occasions, at different times of day. He should have known how to get in, out, every possible route of escape. "Come on. We're going up."

  The next level held the glass coffin of Alexander, and though he knew he shouldn't, Jess found his steps slowing. There was a sense of terrible reverence here. Alexander's withered, leathery body--embalmed and dressed in a set of gilded armor--lay under thick, ancient glass . . . or crystal, maybe. The body was smaller than Jess would have guessed. Alexander had conquered most of the known world as little more than a boy, and Jess wondered what he'd have thought of all this--of the tomb, the honors, the Library that had conquered the rest of the world in his name. Had he really wanted to be displayed like this, as his own museum piece?

  Surrounding the coffin, inset in alcoves in the walls, stood statues of weeping men and women, their hands covering their faces. Lifelike and frightening.

  Dario's voice came hushed, but it still made Jess flinch. "Are those . . ."

  "Automata? Yes. Don't touch the coffin. They're probably guardians."

  Jess stayed well away from Alexander's corpse and took the next set of stairs up again, with Dario at his heels. They emerged into a large, empty veranda open to night breezes, furnished with stone benches and seats. It afforded a fine view of the sights of Alexandria, but no way up to the small roof or out. When Jess looked down on the gardens below, it didn't surprise him to see that all casual visitors had vanished into the night. It was just him, Dario, and two pacing sphinxes below, staring up with intense red eyes. Terrible odds.

  "Where are we going to go?" Dario asked. He sounded justifiably worried.

  "Go down," Jess said.

  "The sphinxes--"

  Jess took in a deep breath. "You go this way. I'll draw the sphinxes to the other side of the building. Stay here and watch. When it's clear, climb down."

  "Excuse me--climb down?"

  "Swing over the edge, grab hold of a statue, shinny down to the next level. Repeat. You can make it." It never occurred to him that it might be terrifying; he'd grown up seeing that kind of activity as normal. From the look that Dario shot him, clearly he didn't share that idea. "Do you want to try to outrun the sphinxes instead?"

  Dario silently shook his head and moved to the edge. "Are you sure none of these statues I'm supposed to grab onto are automata?"

  "I can't guarantee it," Jess admitted. "Best of luck."

  Dario glared. Jess didn't really blame him. "Go with God," Dario said. "And also to the devil, scrubber, for making me do this."

  "I'll take whichever of them will make me faster," Jess said. "Give me two minutes to lead them off. Good luck. I mean it."

  Dario nodded and offered his hand. They shook, and Jess backed up and ran down the steps they'd ascended. The sphinxes would be expecting him to emerge from the tomb's only door. He wouldn't want to disappoint them, but he did want a good head start, so he stopped a floor up, in the area lined with glass cases, and eased between them to reach the statues beyond. This was the layer with rearing horses and warriors, and, luckily, they all were stone, or he'd have been dead in seconds. The sphinxes hadn't seen him yet and were crouched at the tomb doorway.

  It would be a long jump and hard fall, but he'd had worse. Jess took in four lung-expanding breaths, then launched himself forward into a flat dive. He had a terrifyingly good view of the sphinxes' twitching tails as he sailed over them, but he'd done it well enough; the dive carried him to a landing point several feet behind them, and he curled into a ball before impact, rolled up, and was digging feet into the gravel and running before the sphinxes even knew he'd arrived.

  It didn't last more than a couple of fast heartbeats. He heard the twin shrieks of the automata, and didn't need to look back to know they'd risen to join the chase.

  Go, Dario. Get out. That was the only good wish he could spare for his friend, because he had to concentrate on angling his body just right to take advantage of the footing, the breeze at his back, the way his feet rose and fell. He needed every possible fraction of a second to live through this . . . And then he saw the corpse lying ahead of him in the path. It was the body of the man they'd been set to meet--a sailor fresh from a boat, or so Dario had said. Didn't matter now; he was just a sad heap of meat and crushed bones, but lying next to him was a leather drawstring bag.

  Don't risk it, Jess thought. You don't have the time.

  But it was impossible to resist the impulse. He veered close to the body and reached down just enough to snag his fingers in the bag's strings. He lost a half second and could feel the sphinxes gaining on him. I won't make it, he thought, and had a vision of himself crushed on the ground like that nameless sailor.

  The bag he'd grabbed was unexpectedly heavy and it would slow him down. The knowledge--if there was any to be had from whatever was inside it--wouldn't help him if the sphinxes caught him,
but it might give him an advantage if he used it right.

  Jess turned and threw the bag as far as he could the way he'd come, into the park. The twist of his body gave him a heart-stopping view of the sphinxes loping just a body's length behind him, and then he was facing forward again and running with real desperation, breath pumping faster and faster as he spotted the park exit ahead.

  One of the sphinxes peeled off and chased the thrown bag; he saw the flash out of the corner of his eye.

  But one stayed on him.

  There was nothing to do but pray that once he'd passed the boundary of the tomb's precincts, the sphinx would let him go. They were made to be territorial, after all. Not even the Library wanted the monsters tearing through crowded streets in pursuit.

  He could feel the sphinx gaining behind him and realized, with a sudden horror, that all his best speed, his finest running, wouldn't put him through the exit before it reached him.

  He was going to be caught.

  So Jess did the only thing he could. He threw himself flat and hoped momentum would force the thing to miss him.

  He was lucky rather than good--the sphinx had just leaped as he flung himself down, and as he curled into a protective ball, the back feet crashed down on gravel just a handbreadth away from his head. He could see cables flexing under the metallic flank of the thing and scrambled up, hoping to be away before it could adjust and turn.

  He slipped. The loose gravel betrayed him, and before he could recover he was on his knees and the sphinx had turned to him. It padded toward him. Unhurried. Remorseless. The human face held no expression at all. The sinuous copper skin seemed to stretch and mold to the simulated muscles beneath as it moved, and Jess thought, Do something, but there was nothing he could do.

  He held still, hardly daring to breathe. The human-faced head of it was on a level with his eyes, and utterly, unsettlingly alien, and he was reminded of the cobra, swaying in the darkness as it considered biting.

  The sphinx parted thin metal lips and revealed razor-sharp teeth behind--the teeth of a lion in a man's face. Deadly sharp.

  Don't. Move.

  He felt a whisper of air as it drew in a bellows of breath, and he realized he was doubly dead now--he was wearing the smuggling harness with not one but two illegal books inside. The harness's coatings should have masked the smell of bindings and papers, but if the Archivist wanted him dead, this creature needed no further excuse.