“He’s High Garda. Not our level, dear lady, if he ever was,” Dario replied. “Let the scrubber be about his business. You’re under no obligation to be nice.”

Troll suddenly stepped up to Jess’s side, then moved past him to lean over Dario’s shoulder. “Did you have something to say about your feelings toward the High Garda, Scholar?”

Dario looked up, and his natural arrogance came out in a smirk that Jess wanted to punch. “The High Garda has its place,” he said, and looked pointedly at Troll’s boots. “That place is not here, blocking my light.”

“Perhaps you should allow my assistants to proceed with their tasks,” the Artifex said, and sat back. He picked up his coffee once more. “You’re dismissed, both of you. Thank you for your service.”

Troll snapped a salute that wasn’t at all necessary—the Artifex wasn’t generally entitled to salutes—and strode away. Jess followed, minus the honor; he wasn’t about to give the man more credit than he was due, even if it was interpreted as an insult.

“Unbelievable,” Troll said. “Did you hear that? ‘Thank you for your service’—as if he cared. He didn’t even reprimand that arrogant puppy Scholar. You came through postulant class with Santiago? Impressive. I’d have thrown the smug bastard off a bridge halfway through the first day.”

“I’d have helped,” Jess said. “He’s smart, though. Worse, he’s clever.”

“The other one seemed nice enough.”

“Khalila Seif is the smartest person in this room.”

“A good friend to have, then. Not to mention attractive,” Troll said. “You wouldn’t mind if I struck up a conversation?”

“I wouldn’t. Dario might.”

“I was afraid of that. Too bad. Killing him would wipe out my good conduct today.”

“Don’t hold back on my account,” Jess said, but his mind was elsewhere. That display from Santiago had been classic, but it had also been out of place; the young Spaniard hadn’t given him that particularly sour reception since their first days with Wolfe. They weren’t exactly the best of friends, but they weren’t enemies. Or, at least, they hadn’t been when last they’d spoken.

Either something had changed for Dario or Dario was trying to tell him something. Dario and Khalila, working together. Had they planned to be here? No, surely not, or Khalila would have found time to warn him. The Artifex made it sound as if they’d asked to be added to his staff, but somehow, Jess doubted that; they’d applied, certainly, but he’d heard nothing of either being accepted. They’d been given no choice, and no time to tell anyone.

Rome’s roots go so deep, Khalila had said, and veiled it in a cloud of compliments. Dario had added his own clues: The feet of its moldy old gods. And tunnel.

Maybe, just maybe, they were trying to tell him they’d found something. A way into the prison.

Jess sat down at the squad’s crowded table, but he hardly saw their faces or heard the chatter. His thoughts were far away, locked on possibilities. On an insane and desperate possibility.