Canticle

ahead, paused, moved back. When he looked up, his mouth was grim. “These say it is, though I have a hard time believing it.”

“Were you aware that your mechoservitors were intended to be weapons?”

Charles shook his head. “No, absolutely not. Certainly, Xhum Y’Zir used them as such-but even his mechoservitors were intended for higher purposes than war.”

Rudolfo leaned even farther forward. “And during your time with Pope Introspect, did you have any knowledge of a threat against the Named Lands that might require such a potent defense?”

Charles swallowed, and his eyes shifted slightly. Rudolfo noted his caution and continued. “I hold the reins to the Order now,” he said. “Most of the Androfrancine remnant works with me to rebuild the library in the Ninefold Forest. Your last Pope passed all of the holdings to me before he disqualified himself from office with no named successor.” Here, he lowered his voice. “Including the mechoservitors.” And the spell, he thought but did not say. “I am named Protector of Windwir, and I bear Petronus’s grace.”

“There were whisperings,” Charles finally said. “Secret projects in high places. Unprecedented funding to research defensive and offensive capabilities-both magickal and mechanical.”

Including the metal men. “Surely as the Arch-Engineer you knew something of all this.”

Charles chuckled. “You’d be surprised. There are many smaller orders with the Order.. ” His face fell. “There were, I mean. Work was often divided up in pieces. When they started using the metal men for spell translation, I made sure the work was expunged from their memory scripts.”

Charles’s words jarred Rudolfo. Memory scripts. “My men at the Keeper’s Gate encountered a metal man bearing your name and a message for Petronus. You scripted the message into him.”

Rudolfo watched the hope spark in Charles’s eyes. “He made it then. Did he cross into the Waste?”

Rudolfo nodded. “He did. I had men pursuing him. I’ve redirected them to deal with matters elsewhere.”

“Good,” Charles said. “Following him would be dangerous for them.”

Something in the tone gave him pause. “Why? And how did you come by a metal man in Erlund’s care?” But already, a memory pulled him back. He remembered the night he’d first met Jin Li Tam, when Sethbert’s metal man sang a song and they had their first dance. This, he realized, must be the metal man whom Aedric and the others pursued.

“That particular model doesn’t have the restraint scripts Isaak’s generation has.” Charles’s brow furrowed. He hesitates to answer me. Finally, the old man spoke. “The first generation of mechoservitors-thirteen of them-were the best we could do at the time. We found barely enough fragments from Rufello’s Book to bring them back-but of course, as we leveraged our own technology forward by studying the first model, we found ways to line them up more closely to the original specifications. I’m not sure how Sethbert came by that one-he’d not had him long, and I can only assume it was through some kind of treachery with my apprentice. They were scripted to return from their assignment periodically for maintenance.”

“Assignment?” Rudolfo scowled. “What happened to the others when you created Isaak’s generation?”

Charles sighed, his gaze falling for a moment. “They became one of those secret projects. Against my will, I might add. They were to be unsupervised, given tremendous behavioral latitude and sent into the Churning Wastes.”

Suddenly, it made sense. It was not unlike what he did now, up north. “To reproduce the Great Library from their memory scrolls.”

“Yes,” Charles said in a quiet voice.

Rudolfo stroked his beard and thought for a moment. “Sanctorum Lux.”

Charles nodded again. “Yes.”

The notion of it staggered Rudolfo. Certainly it was a sound strategy to rebuild in a hidden place-to set the light even farther apart. Especially if there was an enemy at the gates. But the size and scope of such an undertaking was massive. Even now, there were mechoservitors in the Ninefold Forest, metal hands moving fast as sparrows’ wings over the parchment, reproducing entire books in less than an hour. The materiel management of it stretched his ability to lay in the supplies for his endeavor. And that didn’t even take into consideration the stonemasons, the carpenters, the army of laborers and servants that worked tirelessly to bring back that light. “It would be an impossible undertaking for just thirteen mechoservitors,” Rudolfo said.

Charles shrugged. “Nothing is impossible with enough effort.”

When the thought struck him, it was a stone dropped into a well. There was a moment of disconnect and then the splash of realization. “The entire library,” he said incredulously.

Charles’s face took on an earnestness that bordered on ferocity. “It must be protected,” he said.

Yes. The packet of papers still fresh before his eyes, Rudolfo knew Charles spoke the truth. He didn’t have to cipher out Petronus’s notes to know that the old Pope and King believed a threat existed beyond the Named Lands. Vlad Li Tam had most certainly withdrawn his network to protect them and to investigate these developments abroad.

Someone had wanted the Androfrancines out of the way for some dark reason of their own.

And their library.

Whatever had been hidden in the Churning Wastes in the care of these metal shepherds had to be found and guarded. Rudolfo locked eyes with Charles. “And you’re certain that it is the entire library?”

Charles nodded. “It is.”

Rudolfo closed his eyes, suddenly feeling tearful but not knowing why. For weeks he’d wrestled with an untenable task, digging for some way, any way to find Vlad Li Tam’s iron armada. A tiny leaf in an impossible lake. And each day that he was away, the Ninefold Forest’s neighbors slid farther and farther toward war with his kin- clave in the Marshlands. Petronus was imprisoned, and the Androfrancines at the Papal Palace had no doubt been attacked-maybe killed. And far away-too far away-his infant son lay gray and fading.

The entire library.

Rudolfo realized he was holding his breath and released it. He knew the answer to his question before he asked it. “Including the pharmaceutical sciences and magicks?”

When Charles nodded, Rudolfo said nothing. He stood and looked at the old man for a moment before turning for the door.

Then Rudolfo let himself out and went, trembling, to give Rafe Merrique his new course.

Chapter 17

Petronus

Petronus looked up from the table as servants rolled a service cart set with tea and breakfast rolls into the cramped interrogation room.

The room smelled sour, but it had smelled that way before Petronus had added his own sweat to the confined space. He’d been here from late morning, through the afternoon and then night, as Ignatio and his men questioned him in shifts. Adrenaline had given out long ago; now he felt the weariness permeating him. His arms felt heavy, his face numb from sleeplessness. He rested his arms on the table.

Ignatio followed Petronus’s glance. “Perhaps we should take a break.” He smiled. “Maybe you’d like to have some breakfast and then get some sleep. We have plenty of time.”

Petronus met his eyes and held them. “Tell Erlund he is violating the terms of our arrangement.”

Ignatio laughed. “In what way? You’ve been treated with dignity and respect. You’ve been fed and kept safe. You’ve not fallen down any stairs or stumbled into any wells.” He leaned forward, his smile wide and toothy. “Don’t believe for a moment that you wouldn’t have if you were within reach of Sethbert’s more loyal followers.”

Petronus resisted the urge to chuckle himself. “Sethbert was a madman. His own people turned on him in the end because he was dancing the City States into civil war after breaking their economy.”

“Regardless,” the Entrolusian spymaster said with a flourish. “Would you like some breakfast?”

He wanted to decline on principle, but Petronus had no way of knowing how long he might be kept here,