“Easy, Captain,” Jess said, and guided him out of the cell. He tried to sound reassuring. “We’ll get you help. Easy now.”
Santi let out a tortured gasp, and his legs suddenly folded. The man’s full weight crushed down on Jess’s shoulder and Wolfe’s, but between the two they kept him upright and moving through the choking, smoky fog and out into the cleaner air.
It felt like coming up out of a grave, even if that grave looked out on ruins.
Indira quickly took command and saw Santi settled on the grass while she sent one of her men running for a Medica—no, they called them doctors here, Jess remembered. Some of their doctors had Library training but rejected the authority of the Medica branch, and they certainly didn’t have the facilities, or the supplies. They probably heal with poultices and folk remedies, he thought, and felt a sick roil in his stomach. Santi could recover cleanly if we were on the other side of that wall. But that didn’t matter. Santi, and all of them, were stuck here for now, in a city that despised them and distrusted them, among fanatics who’d burn a book to make a point.
Santi took in a deep, slow breath and let it out. He still looked too pale, and he shivered convulsively. “I’m all right,” he lied. “Chris. Don’t look so angry.”
“Do you expect me to look pleased?” Wolfe shot back, and though his expression was harsh, his fingers were undeniably gentle as he eased Santi’s burned sleeve aside to get a better look at the damage. It looked worse without the cover: a handspan of skin burned away nearly through to the muscle, and where it wasn’t gone, the remaining skin had a scorched, puckered look that didn’t bode well. “Jess. Get that powder. Get it now.”
The sudden tension in his voice sent Jess to his feet without question, and he ran to the wheelbarrow, scooped up a double handful of the heavy powder that the Philadelphia man was using to kill the blaze inside the prison, and raced back.
Realization nearly made him falter, because Santi’s arm was still burning. It was hard to see in daylight: little greenish flickers, but he could hear the sizzle as the Greek fire drew new breath in the open air. It would continue to burn, right down to the bone, if it wasn’t smothered.
Jess dumped powder on it, spreading it thick, and ran back for another double handful. He used that, too, just in case, and couldn’t imagine how that grit felt on raw, burned skin and exposed nerves. Santi didn’t make a sound, though his shuddering was far worse now, and he looked seconds from passing out completely. Wolfe was holding him up in a reclining position, trying to keep the arm up and away from any more contamination.
They all waited tensely to see if the flames burned through the powder. A defeated wisp of smoke curled up instead, and Jess allowed himself a little jolt of relief. It’s out.
Santi slowly shut his eyes, and now the remaining color bled out of his face. Wolfe looked nearly as bad as he stared at the arm, alert for any sign of the fire’s return. When it didn’t come, he glanced to Indira, who was crouched nearby, watching. “Knife,” he demanded. “I need to cut the cloth away. There might be more soaked in.”
She silently handed one over, and Wolfe sliced the fabric of Santi’s uniform sleeve off, high up at the shoulder, to bare a strongly muscled biceps, old seamed scars, and farther down, the wholesale ruin of his forearm. It looked bad, Jess thought. Very bad.
Indira said, without any sign of emotion, “He’s done for.”
Wolfe’s head snapped up, and he gripped the knife in a way that made the back of Jess’s neck go cold and tight. There was pure murder in the man’s eyes, and it was only the fact that he was cradling Santi against him that kept him from it.
“He isn’t,” Jess said. “The captain’s been through worse. We need a Medica.”
“Don’t have Library Medica,” she said. “We have a doctor.”
“Where?”
She stood up in a smooth motion. “Give me the knife, Scholar. Now.” Wolfe didn’t move, and Indira drew the gun that hung heavy at her belt. “Right now.”
Jess reached over and took the knife. He was nearly as surprised by it as Wolfe, but something had to be done to keep this from turning worse. He offered it to Indira, hilt first, but kept his fingers firmly gripping the flat of the blade when she started to pull it free. “Doctor,” he insisted.
She sighed impatiently and said, “I’ll take you.”
She set off, and Jess, after a look exchanged with Wolfe, ran to catch up. He heard someone behind him and looked back to see that Morgan was following, too. She caught up and jogged along with him. Heat from the fires blew her hair in disorderly curls around her face. “I used the lockpicks,” she blurted out. “When the Greek fire hit, all I could think was to get everyone out. But the pick broke on the outer door and I couldn’t open it.” Her voice trembled, and he felt her body shudder along with it. “I thought we’d die in there, Jess. Is Captain Santi—”
“He’ll be all right,” Jess said, which was a lie, but it seemed to help. “Wait. You broke my picks?”
“Don’t. Don’t try to make me laugh, Jess, I was terrified and you were gone.”
“I know.” He’d never wanted to kiss her so badly as he did in that moment, to put his hands on her face and look into those lovely eyes and make her feel safe again. But there was no time. “You saved their lives.”
“Where are you going?”
“Indira’s leading us to find a doctor for Santi. His arm looks—” Jess shook his head. “I don’t know what kind of barbaric medicine they practice here. I hope it’s enough.”
“It has to be.” She pulled in a breath, and when he shot a glance at her, he saw that the reality of the attack, the devastation around them, was starting to hit home. “My God. Santi warned us when he heard the sirens that we needed to get out. I did my best, Jess, I did, but—”
“You did as well as anyone could.”
She just shook her head at that. “At least I might be able to help the doctor. Obscurists can sometimes add power to medicines, speed healing, prevent infection . . .”
He hated the thought of betraying her power to more people, making her more valuable to Beck and his Burners . . . but there was nothing else to do if they wanted to save Santi now.
They ran with Indira through the smoking wreckage of the Burner town, and he had no idea how to keep any of them safe anymore.
EPHEMERA
Text of a letter from Aurelian, emperor of the Roman World, to Zenobia, queen of the East. Indexed in the Codex.
I command you to surrender upon the terms I propose, which are these—your life shall be spared, so that you spend that life with your friends, where I shall, with the advice of the august Senate of Rome, think fit to place you. Your jewels, silver, gold, and precious things, you must give up to the Roman treasury.
Text of a letter in response from Zenobia, queen of the East, to Aurelian Augustus. Indexed in the Codex.
It is not by the pen but by the sword that the business of war is to be transacted. You forget that my ancestor, the royal Cleopatra, chose death rather than splendid slavery.
Text of a notation from the Archivist Magister Zoran. Indexed in the Codex.
By all means, let these two giants clash. Zenobia, we have heard, has a rare library of hoarded manuscripts, and Rome still hides their rarest and choicest works. Once both empires are on their knees, we will broker peace, at a price.
I intend for the Great Library to become more than mere knowledge.
I intend for it to use both pen and sword.
CHAPTER THREE
Indira spotted the doctor from a distance away. “There,” she said. “The one in the long coat and hat.” She immediately turned and grabbed a passing man—one of hers, Jess assumed, though maybe Indira had the authority to press anyone into service she liked. “Take them to the doctor. Watch them. If they try to escape, shoot them down.”
“Ma’am,” the man said, and gave a rough salute. He was young, only twenty at most, but the look in his eyes was ages older. Indira strode off, shouting at a group pulling apart boards on a burning building nearby. Saving what they could. Their new escort studied Jess, then Morgan, and said, “You’re the booklovers.”