“Brendan?” Jess felt his brows lower in a frown. “He’s not in Alexandria. He’s gone. Back to London.”
“No,” Anit said. “You should perhaps keep better track of your twin. I don’t wish to offend you, but he can be a nasty piece of work.”
“Sounds like my brother, all right. Why is he still here?”
She lifted both palms. “Ask him. I’ll tell you where he stays.”
“And you’d like to be rid of him, is that it?”
“One Brightwell in Alexandria is more than sufficient. We would rather that be you.” She lowered her hands to her lap and cocked her head, with a real smile dancing on her lips now. “I had two brothers myself. I know how difficult they can be.”
Jess cleared his throat. “So what’s your decision? Your father left it up to you.”
“He did.” She studied him for a long moment, then said, “Will you swear you will never betray where you got this information?”
“I swear on—what would you like me to swear on?”
“The soul of your firstborn.” She outright grinned this time. “It’s traditional.”
“The rate I’m going, it may be an empty promise. All right. I swear on the soul of my firstborn that I won’t tell anyone where I got this information. Not my friends, not my family. I’ll never betray the house of Red Ibrahim.”
“I believe you,” she said. “And if you break that oath, Egyptian curses are cruel, Jess. And quick. Remember that.” She rose to her feet and headed for the door.
“Wait! Where are you going?”
“To get the book you asked for,” she said.
“I didn’t bring—”
“I trust you,” Anit said. “If I didn’t, you’d be dead already.”
It wasn’t a long wait, which surprised him; they must have kept this incredibly dangerous information here, in their home. His father would have been scandalized. The Brightwell business was always kept completely separate from the Brightwell residence, though Jess had sneaked in plenty of illegal books in his time—to read, not trade.
She was back in only moments, casually carrying a little leather-bound volume. It looked worn and plain, obviously someone’s personal notebook. As he took the volume from her, his fingers felt a rougher patch on the leather, and when he looked closer, there were dark stains soaked into it. Blood.
He opened it to look at the contents, stared, and then raised his gaze to hers. “It’s in code.”
“Of course,” she said. “And I will give you the cipher to read it when you bring me the payment you promised. I said I trusted you. I’m not a complete fool.” She hesitated for a moment. “Jess, I said I had two brothers.”
He was busy flipping pages, trying to see a pattern in the cipher—a useless effort, of course, but better than giving in to frustration. “Are you threatening to set them on me if I don’t deliver? I will.”
“I had two brothers,” Anit said, and put her hand to the chain around her neck and the engraved ring that hung there. “They’re dead. The reason they are dead is the book you are holding in your hands.” The ring, Jess realized, was sized for larger fingers. A young man’s fingers.
It stopped him cold, along with the realization that the dark stains on the cover could have been her brother’s blood. He looked up and into her eyes. They were as unreadable as her father’s.
“If you try to use this information,” she said, “you’ll be killed. I would hate to see that happen. It’s a fool’s bargain, Jess. My father paid a great deal to get this book, and it’s cost us more than it could ever be worth. I’m only giving you fair warning.”
His throat felt suddenly tight, and he forced a smile as he said, “I’ll be back with the Blake in an hour.”
She nodded. “I will be waiting.” Somewhere in the back of the house, a bird began to sing loudly and musically, and Anit turned her head toward it with a smile. “It’s our pet skylark,” she said. “My younger brother built a house for it. The song is so beautiful, isn’t it?”
Jess held the bloodstained book in one hand and said, “It is.”
If this ended badly, at least he could enjoy the bright, familiar song of a bird he’d grown up hearing back home.
EPHEMERA
Text of a message from the Artifex Magnus, head of the Artifex school of the Great Library, to an unnamed recipient Greetings and fair wishes, brave soldier. You have already been made aware of your mission, and I know you have doubts of the morality of such an action. You need have no fear. In firing this shot, you will remove from the ranks of the Library one of our most difficult and dangerous traitors, one for whom there is no cure but death.
I do not give this order lightly, and I know you do not take it so. The Burners cry that a life is worth more than a book, but we know the truth: knowledge lives on. No single life can claim so much.
And so a man who threatens knowledge must be dealt with—by persuasion, by force, or, if all else fails, by death.
Blessings upon you from your god or gods, and from the hands of the Archivist Magister himself, who has approved this action.
HIS SEAL.