'Of course he's hurt,' his doctor said. 'He and Santi both have concussion and internal bruising. Can't keep them down, the fools. The others are all fine. Minor cuts and bruises. Miraculous, considering the shrapnel tossed about.'
'There was a girl. Morgan. She's all right?'
'Mmm. Breathed in a lot of fumes from the fire, but she's recovering. No worse off than you.'
'What about the Burners?'
'What about them?'
'Did any of them survive?'
'Not the ones we found. They're in pieces.'
She called over a waiting assistant, and they inserted needles and fluids, and his constant pain began to recede like a wave pulling out to sea.
The doctor bustled off to see other patients, he supposed, and he floated for a while before Wolfe came back into the tent.
'You're supposed to be lying down,' Jess said. 'She said so.'
'You had something else to tell me.'
Jess stirred uncomfortably. He felt sweaty, and the drugs were beginning to be less of a soft cushion. 'Danton said they didn't blow up the train,' he said.
'Did he?' Wolfe seemed utterly still. 'I don't believe we should take the word of Burners for that.'
'But if he's telling the truth, someone else did.' Jess swallowed a sudden taste of bile. 'He said someone told him where we'd be. The explosion was white. Not green. It wasn't Greek Fire.'
Wolfe considered that, but if he came to a conclusion, he didn't share it. 'The doctor says you'll be well enough to travel in a few days. We're fortified and heavily guarded here. There's no risk in waiting. Rest.'
He headed for the tent flap, but Jess didn't let him leave without asking the question that had been on his mind since Danton had planted the seed of it out there in the dark forest.
'Scholar? Did someone in the Library just try to kill us?'
'I hope not,' Wolfe said. 'Because if they have, they'll try again. There's no fighting them. I've tried.'
That seemed to beg a lot of questions, Jess thought, but Wolfe was gone before he could even begin to think how to ask them.
The next morning brought him a new visitor, as Jess was plotting how best to stage an escape from being fussed over by the surgeon. He'd just decided to ask Thomas to stage a collapse and draw her off when Morgan stepped into the tent.
He stared at her, because he didn't know what to say to her, or how to say it; she had a way of making him feel awkward, as if it was the first time they'd met, every time. Part of it was because she looked different. Instead of wearing her hair up, it was down, soft around her shoulders, and it made him remember how soft and heavy it had felt in his hands. She'd been spending time outside in the sun. He saw a bright splash of sunburn on her nose.
'You really should stop this,' she said.
'Stop what?' She gestured around them, at the medical equipment. He nodded. 'I should. Funny. Until I met you, I never needed stitching up.'
'It's my fault?' She came another step towards him, but only one. He wondered bitterly if Wolfe had fitted her with a restraint again. Maybe the restraint was to keep her away from him.
'You make me careless,' he said. 'I mean that as a compliment. I've always been too careful.'
'I never thought that. You always seemed--'
'Impulsive?'
'You never seemed afraid of risking things.'
This felt all wrong, all wrong. They were talking like two people who were strangers, and she wasn't coming closer. There were shadows in her eyes, and in her smile. Distance.
'Morgan,' he said, and heard the longing in his voice when he said her name. He didn't know how to go on from that, and wasn't sure he could. 'You should have run.'
She took a step closer. No more than that.
'Wolfe told me what you did. How you came back. I don't remember any of it. I was hiding, and waiting for everyone to leave, and it took too long. The smoke came through the vents. I tried to stand up, and ...' She let it hang there, then raised her hands, palms up. 'Then I was in the forest, and they said you were missing. How could I leave?'
'How could you not? If ever they would be distracted, that would have been the time.'
'I know.' She came the rest of the way, across the floor, and settled on the foot of his bed. He was intensely aware of her, and at the same time, of the fact that he still smelt of toxic smoke, dirt, and sweat. 'I had to know that you were alive. I thought - I thought the Burners had killed you.' Her breath caught suddenly, and her eyes widened, and she turned her head to look at him. 'That's what it felt like, when you thought I'd jumped. Oh, Jess. I'm sorry.'
'Well,' he said, 'I didn't do it to teach you a lesson.'
A laugh burst out of her, and she leant over and kissed him. I taste of Greek Fire, he thought, but if he did, she didn't pull away. She relaxed against him, and the sweet taste of her lips drowned all the bitter chemicals. All the bitter memories. He pushed her loose, dark hair back from her face, and sighed as she pulled back, just a little. 'I missed you,' he said. 'But I really was hoping to never see you again.'
'That is no way to charm a girl.' Thomas's voice, from the door of the tent. Morgan stood up in one quick motion, and Jess almost laughed himself at the expression on her face. Thomas did laugh. 'Don't you think I know? We all know. We have no secrets, we students.'
That was blackly funny in itself, but it didn't incline Jess to laughter this time. We're nothing but secrets, he wanted to say, but Thomas wouldn't understand.
'What's that?' Morgan asked. Thomas had something in a bag over his shoulder, and it wasn't small.
'Something to keep Jess occupied,' Thomas said. 'I had time to finish it. None of us but Khalila can beat him at chess. I thought I would make him a proper opponent.'
'Make one?'
Thomas set down the bag, looked around, and found a small folding table that he carried over to sit next to Jess's bed. Then he reached in and took out a large wooden chessboard that sat on a metal box frame almost two inches deep. He looked for the drawer where the chessmen would be kept, but the sides were seamless.
'You brought me an empty board?'
'Ach, sorry, no room for the pieces inside.' Thomas reached back into the bag and took out a smaller matching box, which he opened. Inside were metal chess pieces in steel and iron. Thomas set them in quick, deft motions. 'Black or white?'
'White,' Jess said.
'Move.'
Jess obligingly pushed a pawn forward and waited for Thomas to do the same. Thomas didn't. He just stood there with that delighted grin on his face.
A piece of black iron moved itself, gliding forward two spaces.
'It's an automaton,' Thomas said. 'One that plays chess. I had Khalila help me with all the calculations.'
Jess moved his pawn forward again. The automaton's black pawn slid into his, and his white piece tipped over on its side, rolled off the board, and fastened itself to one side of the metal box.
Taken off the board.
'Magnetic,' Thomas said. 'If I had more time I would make it smaller underneath so there could be a drawer for taken pieces. Next time.'
'It's incredible,' Jess said. 'It's--'
'It's beautiful,' Morgan said. She picked up the piece that had fastened itself to the side and ran it through her fingers. 'Did you make all this? How?'
'Yes. Captain Santi was kind enough to have it sent to Toulouse, and the soldiers brought it,' Thomas said. 'I finished it before we left Alexandria.'
'Can it actually play a full game?' Jess moved another piece, this time really putting thought into it, and it was eerie how quickly the machine countered him. Correctly countered him.
'That was why it took so long to build,' Thomas said. 'A chess game has at least ten to the forty-third power of moves.'
'How long did it take you, then?' Morgan stood and watched as Jess moved pieces, and the automaton played its side.
'Months, for the clockworks. A few days for the pieces. Alles Gute zum Geburtstag, Jess.'
 
; 'It's not my birthday.'
Thomas shrugged. 'I've known you this long. It must be coming some time. Besides, you need a distraction.' A smile spread wide across his face. 'Although it seems you have found a very pretty one, anyway.'
'Flatterer,' Morgan said. 'Go ahead, Jess. Play.'
Jess moved pieces until it became clear that Thomas's automaton was going to trap him in four moves, and, marvelling at the eerie intelligence of the thing, he tipped his king.
All the pieces, even the ones that had been fixed to the sides of the board, glided back into place. The board lifted, spun opposite, and the automaton moved white this time.
'You're bloody brilliant, Thomas,' Jess said. His throat felt tight with emotion, and he knew it was in his rough voice, too. 'I hope you know that.'
'I know,' Thomas said. 'Wait until you see what I have back home at Ptolemy House.'
'I thought this was what you were working on.'
'This? No. It is a toy. Elaborate, but a toy. What I have there is different.' His grin faded, and suddenly Thomas looked completely serious. 'What I have will change the world.'
It felt like freedom for the next six days; their wounds healed, and the six of them were much in each other's company. They held a chess tournament, and took the Toulouse soldiers' bets on machine versus student; invariably, they made a profit. Khalila played Thomas's automaton to a draw many times, and won twice; Jess prized the one time he'd managed to force the machine to tip its king in defeat. Soldiers took a seat. Even Wolfe had a try, which brought the most heated betting of all, but he, too, went down to defeat.
Thomas, curiously, could beat it every time. 'I know how it thinks,' he said when Jess asked, which was as mysterious as it was maddening.
It began to feel almost benign, these calm days in the sun. When the doctor released him, Jess treasured the hours spent with his friends, individually or in groups. He began to wish it would just ... go on.
And then, on the sixth day, Wolfe called them to his tent. It was a pretty blue-sky day outside, with a crisp turn of autumn in the air.
Inside that tent the mood felt like winter.
They entered together, the six of them, and found Wolfe seated at a camp desk with his journal open in front of him, and a pen marking the centre. He closed the book.
'The escort arrives in the morning,' he said. 'Another trusted commander. Nic has seen to that. We will be travelling in armoured comfort back to Alexandria.'
The armoured part Jess didn't doubt. The comfort was questionable. Khalila sighed and shifted, as if she could already feel the kinks in her back from the trip.
Wolfe looked tired, Jess thought. There were lines around his eyes and mouth that he didn't remember seeing before. The man hadn't put on Scholar's robes for some time, and Jess had almost grown used to seeing him without them now.
But the robes were out today. They were neatly folded on a chest, ready to don.
It's almost over, Jess realised. We're going back. Back to what?
As if he'd read Jess's mind, Wolfe said, 'When we arrive, I will be summoned to the Artifex to give him my recommendations for your placements. It's possible that I won't return in time to give them out, but someone will deliver the scrolls if I am unable to attend.'
'Unable, Scholar?' Dario asked. 'Or do you mean, prevented from returning?' When Wolfe looked up, he shrugged. 'It's clear that you've got powerful enemies there. You're even worried here.'
'Sir,' Glain said. 'They don't have grounds to punish you. You were sent to retrieve the books from Oxford, and you did exactly that. We will all support it.'
Wolfe acknowledged that with a very slight bow of his head to them. 'It's been my privilege to be your proctor,' he said. 'It comes as a surprise, I assure you, to say that; I am the most reluctant Scholar ever to be forced to take on a year's class, and the least inclined to charity. So when I tell you I am proud ...' He shook his head, and smiled. It was a tight, private smile, a little rueful. 'When I tell you I am proud, I mean it.'
'Sir ...' Khalila hesitated, then plunged on. 'What happened to Guillaume and Joachim wasn't your fault. We all know that, and if they ask us, we'll tell them you did everything you could. There were risks; we knew that. Life is risk. But you brought us through it. And it is we who are proud. Honoured.'
She inclined her head to him. Next to her, Dario followed. Then Glain and Thomas.
That left Jess and Morgan.
Jess bowed his head, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Morgan do the same.
'Honoured,' Morgan said. 'Sir.'
Wolfe watched them for a long few seconds, and then opened his journal and picked up his pen. 'Be ready tomorrow morning by dawn. Tota est scientia. Dismissed.'
He didn't look up as they filed out, and when Jess glanced back, he saw Wolfe pressing pen to paper.
But the man didn't write a word.
Dinner meant sharing a large, airy tent with the Toulouse Garda crowding the benches, along with the Medica staff they'd brought with them. Wolfe's party was pushed close at one table. Jess had tried to take a seat beside Morgan, but she had been blocked in by Wolfe on one side, Santi on the other, and the best he was able to do was claim a place across from her.
It did give him a chance to study her as they ate. She didn't seem to mind.
The food was better than Jess expected, or maybe his health was coming back; he ate with real hunger and savoured the lamb and fresh vegetables and crusty French bread. Wolfe and Santi were, at first, the only ones allowed wine. Santi had only a little, but Wolfe steadily filled glasses, emptied a bottle, then another. He called for a third, and glasses for each of the students. Dario applauded that. Khalila declined, but everyone else accepted.
As the wine was poured, Jess glanced up and saw Morgan watching him. The last night, he thought. Tomorrow, at dawn, it would be different. Tonight would be her last chance to run. He wondered if that was why Wolfe and Santi had so firmly blocked her between them.
Wolfe stood up, glass in hand. He didn't seem quite steady. 'Postulants,' he said. 'Your attention.' He didn't ask, he demanded, and they all gave it. 'Guillaume Danton and Joachim Portero. Drink to them.'
They all stood, then, and toasted in silence, and drained glasses. He nodded, and they sat again, but he stayed on his feet.
Wolfe clumsily refilled his glass. 'And a toast to all of you still here. Congratulations. You're now in the safe embrace of the Library. Good luck.' He threw back the entire glass at one long gulp. Santi sat back. He looked concerned.
Wolfe had to brace himself with one hand on the table, as if the room had tilted. None of them spoke. Jess had never seen Wolfe out of control before, and it felt deeply wrong.
'Thank you,' Khalila finally ventured. 'You've taught us so much.'
'Don't thank me for risking your lives. You deserved better than that. Better than me.' Wolfe refilled his glass, emptied the bottle, and signalled for another. Santi leant back to send Wolfe a look behind Morgan's back, but Wolfe didn't seem to notice. 'I didn't ask to be your proctor. Saddling me with your class was a kind of punishment. To teach me obedience.'
'Wolfe,' Santi said. 'Enough. Sit down.'
'No. Not enough.' Wolfe slammed his glass down on the table with so much force the glass cracked up the side. A dining attendant, who'd come with another bottle of wine, deftly scooped up the damaged vessel and put another one in its place.
'They're no longer my students. No longer my responsibility. All that remains is for the Library to break their hearts, as it broke ours years ago.' Wolfe levelled a finger at Santi. 'Say I'm wrong.'
Santi stood up, put the cork firmly in the bottle, and leant close to Wolfe. 'You're drunk, and this isn't the place or the time. If you don't care about your future, think of theirs. Think of mine.'
Their eyes locked for a moment, and then Wolfe blinked and nodded. 'I'm sorry,' he said. 'Forgive me. I'm ... tired.'
'You're grieving,' Santi said. 'We've all got scars. Don't show them here.'
>
Dario waited a second before saying, 'Well, if you're done with the wine and moved on to self-pity, pass the bottle down. That's half-decent French. Not Rioja, but still. Hate to waste it.'
Glain, of all people, stood up, retrieved the bottle and poured herself a very respectable glass. Then she topped up Dario's, and passed the bottle down the row. Thomas took a glass. So did Morgan, and then Jess.
Santi helped Wolfe to his feet and said, 'I expect you to watch your behaviour. Morgan, that tether's still active. If Wolfe's not watching, I will be. We had that double-locked by an Obscurist. Don't even try removing it.'
She nodded and picked at the restraint wound around her wrist. She'd been rubbing on it, Jess saw; there was a faint red mark on her skin around the golden coils. He wondered if she'd tried to take it off again. Probably.
Wolfe's soldiers - the five of them who were left - sensibly took the rest of the wine. The mess cleared out, but their table stayed while the kitchen staff cleaned and sent them increasingly irritated looks. Jess only sipped at what remained in his glass, since his Medica surgeon stopped to remind him that his liver was needed for the future.
Morgan was the first to leave. 'It's late,' she said, and shook her head when the others chorused a desire for her to stay. 'No, enjoy yourselves. It's our last night together.'
Khalila stood with her. 'I'll walk with you,' she said.
Dario bowed them off with exaggerated deference. Jess drained a glass of water, watching Morgan go. Another bottle came around again, but this one was filled with fruit juice. He silently shoved it over to Glain. She filled her cup.
'I'm going too,' he said, finally. 'I'm still getting my strength back.'
'You are missing out,' Thomas said, all too cheerfully; his face had gone pink. 'Dario is off to find another bottle.'
'Not if I get it first,' Glain said.
'I will wrestle you for it,' Thomas said, and placed his elbow on the table. Glain handily pinned Thomas three times in a row, and claimed the bottle, which didn't so far actually exist.
Dario was offering her a game of dice, which was probably far better odds for him, when Jess walked back to his room.
They'd moved him from the medical quarters to something smaller, but it had a comfortable bed, and that was all he cared about. He felt tired, and strangely restless underneath it. Unsettled. Seeing Wolfe come undone, even that much, made him feel that nothing was secure in their strange, new world.