“The Artifex came to the gates just before dawn,” she said. “I saw him arrive with soldiers. The Obscurist ordered him to leave. Very tense. I’m surprised there wasn’t a fight.”

“There will be,” Santi said. “Soon. He’s not going to take no for an answer.”

“He won’t have to,” Wolfe said. “He’ll send for the Archivist, and that’s an end to it. And us.” He nodded to Khalila. “We’ll need to explore Khalila’s information. Quickly.”

“About that,” Santi said. “Wathen. How do you judge your ability to run today?”

Quick on the uptake, Glain. Her dark eyes flashed around at each of them, and she raised her chin and said, “Whatever the day requires, sir.”

Santi nodded. “Packs and weapons. Our time’s running out. Either we find a way out this morning or we fight.”

And our odds aren’t good, either way, Jess thought. He reached out for Morgan’s hand and her fingertips felt chilled in his. She knew, too. She had to know. This idea of Khalila’s might be a useless effort, but it was all they had left.

“Where are you going?” Morgan asked, and Jess explained it as quickly as he could. She caught on immediately. “Of course. There was something that always bothered me. The Obscurist would lock the garden entrance every few days. I thought she was conducting secret work via Translation. I didn’t think it could be anything else.”

“You’ve never heard of any hidden floors above it?”

“No,” she said. “Never. Not even a rumor.”

“Maybe they don’t actually exist,” Thomas said.

“Then we’ll have a nice garden stroll before we’re taken out to be killed,” Santi said. “I don’t see any drawbacks.”

They took the strange moving room—it was, Jess learned, called a lift, which made quite a bit of sense, given its function—up to the garden floor, a floor that, he realized, could only be accessed by Morgan’s hand resting on the panel, while other choices were clearly visible with switches. “Not everyone is allowed use of the garden,” she told them. “Only the most senior in the Tower.”

“And you’re one of them?” Wolfe gave her a look that said he clearly doubted that, and, of course, he was right.

“No,” she said. “I changed the script inside the elevator months ago. It thinks I’m Gregory. So far, none of them have figured that out, though they’ve found other changes I made. I suppose this is the last time I’ll be able to use this one, too.”

“With any luck, it’s the last time you’ll need to,” Jess said. “Can you use the Translation Chamber?”

But Morgan shook her head this time. “Not after I used it to escape last time. They’ll have made sure to lock it off from me this time. But I’ll check, just to be sure.”

When the lift slid to a stop and the doors opened, they stepped out into the lush, warm garden. It was deserted except for the flutters of butterflies among the flowers and a subtle hum of bees that drowsily roamed the room near a hive at the far end. The Translation couch and helmet occupied the central gazebo of the room, but outside morning stretched toward noon beneath a bleached-pale sky, and the dizzy patchwork of Alexandria heaved with motion in the streets.