“Didn’t you pay attention at all in alchemy classes in school?”

“My schooling was more . . . practical.”

“The principle’s simple enough. The Obscurist uses the element of quintessence to pass you through a fluid that rectifies your form in one place and purifies it in another. The quintessence exists everywhere at once. All things pass through it in creation and destruction.”

“Are you quoting a textbook?” he asked her, and she smirked.

“Why not? You never read it.”

“I was wrong. This little lecture didn’t help at all.” He paused and looked around. “The Artifex. Is he here?”

“He arrives later. We go first to secure the arrival point,” she said. “I’d think you would have already figured that out.”

Of course the evil old man would think of his own safety first; he’d wait until Santi’s security was in place, then join him. Then be escorted directly to whatever it was he found it so important to do in Rome. Was it to see Thomas? Was that why he was heading there? Jess had a flash of the Artifex Magnus’s severe, bearded face, and felt his fists clench. He deliberately relaxed them. Ironic that he’d been chosen to protect someone he most wanted to see dead. He wouldn’t find himself shedding a lot of tears if the Artifex suffered a heart attack during Translation, but he’d do his duty. He had to.

Didn’t mean he had to like it.

Ahead, Captain Santi was speaking to his lieutenant, who listened with perfect focus, nodded, and turned toward the rest of them. “Attention!” Her voice cut clean through the chatter, and they all stiffened into inspection stance. “We’ll be traveling by Translation, which means that when your name is called, you will sit in the chair, fit the helmet on your head, and follow instructions. To answer any questions you have: yes, it will damn well hurt. Yes, you are allowed to scream if you feel the need. Yes, we are allowed to mock you for it later.” She smiled, and there was a ripple of laughter from the veterans. “We have two new recruits in the Blue Dogs.”

The squad made that chesty barking sound again, and this time, Jess and Glain both joined in. Without being ordered, they stepped forward in unison.

“Show these dogs how it’s done, new dogs. You first.” The lieutenant pointed to Jess. Of course. He stared at her for a beat, then saluted silently and walked toward the chair. Glain said quietly, “Do us proud.”

Jess didn’t give any sign he’d heard. He sat on the cool, hard surface of the reclining chair and swung his legs up. The pack on his back was bulky and uncomfortable, but he ignored that and reached for the Translation helmet, which was surprisingly light. Compared to the one in Alexandria, this one seemed more finished, more integrated, though it still had protruding tubes that glowed with a strange light. It fit snugly around his head, and as the padding pressed down, he felt cold metal points touch his scalp, not quite sharp enough to pierce. They felt like chips of ice against his sweating skin.