'Confiscations,' Wolfe said. 'And since you asked, Postulant Seif, you will be with me, along with Brightwell, Portero, and Danton. The rest of you, Captain Santi has your assignments. You will be working with other Scholars.'
Khalila looked at Jess with wide eyes, and mouthed Confiscations? As if she'd never heard the word before.
Jess understood it all too well. His father had never been raided, but he'd seen it happen to others in London.
He'd just never expected to have to be one of the Library's minions carrying it out.
At least you'll get to handle some original books. Despite his best efforts, his pulse quickened at that thought. Maybe Da was right. Maybe I do have ink in my blood.
Across the room, Guillaume Danton was exchanging a look with Joachim Portero, and it was clear that neither one of them thought being added to Wolfe's personal team was in any way a compliment. It was an opportunity, but only one to fail even harder.
Morgan Hault was watching Jess, and when he met her eyes, she gave him a small nod. 'Good luck,' she said.
'You'll need it,' Wolfe said. 'You have five minutes. I will be outside. Anyone late draws a tile.'
He left, trailing Captain Santi. There was an immediate, hot buzz of talk in his wake. Breakfast was mostly ignored. Disappointingly, Dario somehow made it downstairs and outside just in time.
Jess joined the group with Wolfe.
He'd have expected to spend the day talking with Khalila, but that wasn't to be; she fell into close conversation with Guillaume Danton instead as they boarded the steam carriage, and the two of them sat whispering as the vehicle lurched into motion. Jess had no choice but to sit next to Dario's friend Portero. The Portuguese boy was shorter than Dario, darker in skin tone, and he cultivated a thin little moustache that failed to be a convincing balance with his heavy chin.
They didn't talk. Partly, that might have been the ominous, unspeaking presence ahead of them of Scholar Wolfe and Captain Santi.
Mindful of what Morgan had said about the Codex, Jess reviewed the list of Core Collection titles. No one (not even Khalila) could hope to remember every book on the list, but he concentrated on the oldest and rarest. Smugglers and collectors delighted in those, and thanks to his background, he had more than a passing acquaintance with what sold best in the shadow markets.
Portero idly stared out the window as the wide, clean Alexandrian streets rolled by. They'd all got used to the sight of the teal-blue harbour and white-sailed mountains of ships floating there, but Portero was staring out at the old Egyptian gods that lined the roadway, still mighty under the sun after so many thousands of years. He clicked beads between his fingers, and Jess finally realised they were part of a rosary.
'Does it bother you?' he asked Portero, and nodded out at the gods on the street. Portero shot him an unreadable look.
'Shouldn't it? They're false gods.'
Jess shrugged. 'Real enough to the Egyptians,' he said. 'And they're beautiful, in their way.'
Portero was already sweating from the intense heat; even the carriage's cooler interior couldn't keep it all out, especially next to the windows. 'They should have been pulled down ages ago,' he said. 'The Christians and Muslims agree on that much.'
Jess flashed back to the death of On Sphere Making, and felt a slow roll of revulsion. 'That sounds like a Burner talking,' he said. 'Destroying what offends them, and never mind legacy.'
Portero turned on him angrily. 'I said nothing of the kind! I would never harm a book! Never!'
'Not all knowledge is books. Those out there, they're history in stone. Men carved them. Men sweated in this sun to put them there, to make their city more beautiful. Who are you to say what's worthy for men to see today, or tomorrow?'
'You're an irreligious bastard,' Portero said. 'I knew you would be.'
'I'm as good a Catholic as you,' Jess said. 'I just don't hold with making the world into copies of what I like.'
Khalila and Guillaume had stopped talking, and both were staring at him. Guillaume raised his eyebrows, and said, 'You'd better stop or you'll be failed out for this kind of talk, Portero. Not that I wouldn't enjoy it.'
Guillaume was right. Portero glared back, then went back to staring out the window, while Jess picked up his book again. Guillaume and Khalila went back to their whispered conversation, too indistinct to be clearly heard, and Portero clacked his beads.
It was too long a ride. By the time the carriage slowed and stopped, Jess was ready to strangle the lot of them.
Then the carriage halted, and Jess stepped out, and wished immediately for the cooler comfort of the interior again. The heat rose up in waves from the stone, and in the shimmering air, Jess spotted Wolfe's black robe billow wide as he jumped down from the conveyance's front cabin. Captain Santi joined him, and Jess noticed that this time, he was dressed in full High Garda uniform, with the Library's symbol embossed in gold. Armed to the teeth.
Wolfe took a look around them, and Jess followed his example. It was a gracious street, shaded here and there with spreading trees; the flat-roofed, square houses were neatly plastered and well kept, and the one that Wolfe seemed most interested in was painted a clean, pale yellow. It was larger than its neighbours, and discreetly set back behind a wall of a slightly lighter colour. The walkway was inset with hieroglyphs of protection and benediction.
'Always survey the area first,' Wolfe said. 'Identify anyone in the area who might interfere, or be on the lookout. Look, listen, feel. It might save your life.' The same things, Jess thought, that a smuggler would do. Maybe it was that thought that woke a strange sense of familiarity. Deja vu.
Khalila, Guillaume and Joachim were all silent, so Jess stepped forward and stopped a respectful distance from the High Garda soldier. 'Pardon, Captain Santi, but ... could you explain how this is supposed to go?'
Santi turned towards Jess, pivoting with smooth grace. He was not overly tall, but had the build and poise of a fighter. Must have been a good fighter, since his sharp-chinned face was unmarked by any scars or disfigurements; he had a long straight nose, heavy, dark brows, and close-cropped hair. His skin held the deep brown shade of an Italian who spent a lot of time in the sun, and the deep lines at his nose and mouth betrayed his age ... older than his still-dark hair would suggest.
'Don't sir me, I'm not your father, and you're not under my command.' He said it pleasantly enough, but there was a distance in his eyes.
'Sorry, Captain,' Jess said. 'What do you want us to do?'
'Assist,' he said. 'You search and carry away what illegal materials we find. You'll learn how to spot a contraband hiding place. And stay out of Wolfe's way.'
It sounded simple enough, and Jess felt on firmer ground. Contraband was his speciality, after all.
Khalila seemed disturbed. 'Will ... will the family be there?'
'Of course,' Santi said. 'If they've nothing to hide, they'll be fine. If we turn things up, their sentences will depend on what we find. Could be confiscation; could be arrests. But that's not your concern. Just follow Wolfe's lead, and let me take care of any trouble.'
She nodded hesitantly, and glanced over at Jess. He tried to give her a reassuring smile, but in his guts, he felt this wouldn't be pretty. She was about to have a harsh introduction to the darker underbelly of the Library ... the one that Jess had grown up knowing. It wasn't all clean reading rooms and fancy Scholars debating the merits of Plato's views of comedy. The Library might have brought the wisdom of ages into the lives of the common folk; they might have kept humankind from falling into the darkness of ignorance and despair and superstition. But that didn't mean their hands were clean.
Just the opposite, in Jess's experience.
Wolfe didn't speak to them. He abruptly strode forward down the peaceful little walkway towards a yellow house, and a hot breeze caught his robe and snapped it like a pirate flag behind him.
As Jess got closer, it hit him like a bolt why this street seemed so familiar. I've been here.
He'd been at this house.
As Alexandrian custom dictated, Wolfe touched his fingers first to the small inset statue of the household god Bes on one side of the doorway, and then to the goddess Beset on the other.
Then he knocked, and was answered in only a moment by a young servant girl, neatly dressed. He showed her a page in his Codex, and her mouth fell open in shock. She had absolute terror in her eyes.
'Please get the master or mistress of the house,' Wolfe said. She dashed away on bare, silent feet; it was the Egyptian custom to go without shoes on the polished tiled floors that helped keep the houses so cool within. Wolfe followed her in, and drew the rest of them along.
Alexandrian homes were almost oriental in their simplicity, with a few luxuries showing like gems against the plain walls. A fluted lamp cast a yellow glow in a dimmer corner with a Roman-style reading couch, and there was a bookcase in plain view ... filled with Library-stamped blanks, of course, as could be found in any home, no matter how rich or poor.
Disconcerting. Jess did know this house, but he'd only seen it in the dark, deep night, when all the lamps were doused or lowered.
This was the house of Abdul Nejem, and he'd stolen the Aristophanes scroll from it for his father. That ... couldn't be a coincidence.
The servant girl didn't reappear; instead, he heard the confident slapping footsteps approaching of a much larger person, and a man rounded the corner from what must have been the courtyard garden. He'd been in the pool, most likely; he'd wrapped a Japanese-style robe around himself of rich blue silk that had been cut twice as large as usual to fit around his bulk. He had shaved Alexandrian style, hairless head to toe, and if he hesitated a little when he saw Wolfe at his door, he covered that discomfort well.
'Scholar,' he said, and gave the deepest bow his belly would allow. 'I am honoured, of course, to entertain such an esteemed visitor. Please, be welcome to our home. May I bring you food and drink?'
Wolfe brushed aside the courtesies. 'Are you Abdul Nejem?'
'Yes, of course. How may I assist you?'
Wolfe extended his Codex and displayed the warrant. He handed the book to the man, who scanned it, read it again, and looked up to say, 'But this is a terrible mistake! There is no contraband here!'
'Perhaps,' Wolfe said. 'But we have a job to do. You'll wait with Captain Santi while my team searches.'
'But I must protest!' the big man said, and jabbed the book back towards Wolfe like a sword. Wolfe deftly intercepted it and put it away. 'This is outrageous, I am no criminal! I would never ...'
Santi stepped forward then, and the man's bluster drained out of him, and something like fear crept across his face. 'Please take a seat on this very fine couch,' Santi said, and led the man to it. 'Who else is at home today?'
'My - my wife Nabeeha,' the man said. 'But she is unwell. In bed.'
'Postulant Seif,' Wolfe said. 'Please go find the lady Nabeeha and bring her here, if she can walk. If not, we will go to her in a moment.'
Khalila wavered, then bowed her head and went quickly down the hall. The house was built in a square, with a central sunlit courtyard made serene with a bathing pool, fountains, flowers, and sheltering trees; the thick-walled house stayed cool, and funnelled breezes that carried the pleasing scents throughout the rooms.
Jess wondered if he should follow Khalila, to be sure she was all right, but before he could make that decision Guillaume Danton said, 'Sir, should I explore the other rooms?'
'Go,' Wolfe said. Danton disappeared after Khalila. When Jess made a move in that direction, Wolfe extended a sharp finger towards him. 'Thorough search of this room, Brightwell,' Wolfe said. 'Portero. Check out there.'
Jess didn't really need to search at all, because he knew exactly where the compartment was; he'd recently spent an hour finding it in the dark of night. He wished that Wolfe had sent him off to search somewhere else, because now he had to make an elaborate production of not finding the spot ... at least, not quickly.
Jess started on the wrong wall, tapping and probing. It felt like elaborate theatre. He'd gone more than halfway around the room when he finally arrived at the tiny piece of fabric stretched tight and plastered in place that hid the switch.
'Found something, Scholar,' Jess said, and pressed hard. There was a muted click, and a square section of the wall about four feet square sagged inward and rose up. Inside, it was covered by a layer of plastered fabric that was cleverly secured at the corners.
Jess peeled the fabric back, and behind it were the treasures. Seen in full daylight, they would have been breathtaking to most - stacks of original books, and a honeycomb of scrolls. The smell of the old ink and vellum and parchment ... it smelt like home to him, and for a dizzy moment, Jess just wanted to touch those smooth leather bindings, those crisp rolled edges.
He stepped away and met Wolfe's gaze. Wolfe nodded, looking far too thoughtful. 'Good, Postulant Brightwell,' he said. 'You have a knack.'
'That's - that's not mine!' the fat man in the corner blurted, and Niccolo Santi pushed him back down on the couch as he tried to rise. 'I swear, I am innocent! This is a house that honours the Library in all things!'
Guillaume Danton had returned, Jess saw; he was supporting the bowed weight of a woman of about the same age as the house's owner. She seemed old before her time, and moved as if each step pained her. Her eyes widened when she saw Jess standing at the wall, and the uncovered cache of books. Her knees loosened, and she would have fallen if Danton hadn't held fast to her.
Or at least, that was how it looked at first, until the seemingly frail woman snatched a hidden knife from her belt, straightened, and threw Danton off balance. He had no real chance to react before the woman had whipped an arm around his throat to choke him and pulled him up to his toes, while the knife hovered over his vulnerable, fast-pulsing jugular.
'Let my husband go or this boy dies,' Nabeeha Nejem said. Santi exchanged a glance with Wolfe, who'd not moved so much as an eyebrow, and stepped back to let the fat man stand up. The husband seemed unsteady, and out of his depth. 'Abdul, get the books. Go.'
'There's nowhere you can run,' Wolfe said. 'You must know that.'
Jess moved aside as the fat man came towards him, and made sure that as he did, he angled closer to the woman, and Danton. The other boy's face was even paler than usual, but he didn't struggle. She was pressing her arm like a bar over his throat, and he was likely to lose consciousness if it continued. The London Garda had favoured that move, and it was usually successful. Danton might be stronger than Nejem's wife, but she had better leverage.
And she had the knife.
She also wasn't stupid, and as Jess shifted his weight, her dark eyes cut towards him. Suddenly, the knife pressed hard enough against Danton's neck to slice a thin line of red. But she didn't speak to him - instead, she spoke to her husband. 'Abdul, move! We have little time!'
Abdul Nejem was already hurrying, but he was clumsy and nervous, and there were far too many books for him to carry. There must have been twenty volumes, not including the scrolls. Abdul had to pick and choose, and it was clear he was too frightened to do it well.
As he reached for another volume, the five he already had stacked in his left hand slipped, and two of them crashed to the tile floor. Abdul gave a little cry of alarm and tried to pick them up, but that only created more of a landslide ... and in the distraction, Khalila Seif slipped up silent as a ghost behind the wife, and grabbed the woman by her long braid of hair. The wife cried out, unprepared for the sudden attack, and then froze. From Jess's angle, he could see that Khalila had pressed her own blade into the woman's back.
'Let my friend loose, or this goes into your liver,' Khalila said. 'It might not kill you, but it will certainly make you wish you were dead.' What seemed most effective about it - and, Jess had to admit, most chilling - was the calm way Khalila said it. She didn't raise her voice. There was no sense of tension or excitement. It was as casual as if she'd commented on the lovely garden just
visible beyond the other doorway.
Nabeeha must have known she had no chance. She waited long enough that Jess began to calculate his chances of disarming her, but then she suddenly lowered the knife and let Danton fall. The boy, only half-conscious, dropped to his hands and knees, gasping for breath. Blood dripped slowly from his cut neck - a flesh wound, from the look of it. Lucky.
Khalila stayed where she was, one hand clutching into the other woman's braid and the knife pressed against her back, until Niccolo Santi stepped forward to take charge of the captive. Then, the girl let go, sucked in a deep breath as if coming out of a deep sleep, and shuddered all over. Jess watched her as she tried to resheathe her knife; her hand trembled too much to hit such a narrow target. She finally put the blade down on a small table near the wall and knelt down next to Guillaume Danton to see how he was. Jess understood. Always easier to see to another than face your own fears.
Abdul Nejem, meanwhile, stood indecisive in the centre of the room with his arms filled with a tottering stack of illegal books. He stared at his now-captive wife with shock, as if he couldn't quite believe that she hadn't won the day, and when Wolfe stepped up and took the books from him, the man deflated like a punctured balloon. He sank down on the only other furniture in the small room - a chair that groaned beneath his weight - and buried his face in his hands. 'You've killed us,' he wept. 'You've killed us all, you greedy woman!'
'Shut up, for the love of heaven,' Nabeeha said. 'We claim academic privilege!'
'Really,' Wolfe said, in that ominously silky voice that Jess recognised from classes. He turned towards Nejem and tilted his head to one side. 'Regale me with your credentials. I will be fascinated to hear of your work.' The man only sputtered, clearly unable to manufacture anything useful. 'Niccolo, I believe we're done. Secure them both.'
'Wait! I-I can tell you where she got them! I swear, it was my wife who did this, not me! I am innocent!'
'Abdul!' Nabeeha's shout held all manner of vicious threat, and her husband shuddered.
'Take the lady outside,' Wolfe said, and Niccolo muscled the struggling woman out her own front door. Now that the game was up, she seemed about as weak and infirm as a cobra. 'Continue, Master Nejem. I really am fascinated.'