“He might not,” Dario mumbled around a mouthful of curried chicken; Jess had already cleaned his own plate. “There are Medica techniques and potions to block memories. If they treated him with those, it’s not likely he can remember on his own.”

“What do you mean by that? Can he remember with help?” Glain asked. She’d long finished her meal, and now sat idly watching the white-sailed Egyptian fishing ships glide in the harbor toward home. “More potions?”

“More likely it would require the help of a Mesmer,” Dario said.

“Mesmer,” Glain groaned. “Don’t tell me you believe that tripe.”

“Mesmerism is a scientific fact,” Dario said. “Anyone can learn to do it. Doesn’t take ability, like being an Obscurist. But Mesmers’ skills are closely guarded secrets. We had one at court.”

“Don’t tell me you learned how to Mesmerize,” Khalila said. “I can never trust you again.”

“I tried, but, lucky for you, he refused to teach me. It is a real skill, though. It can recover memories in some subjects.”

“Mesmers are one step away from illegal,” Khalila said. “Even if you found a Mesmer you could trust to undertake it, the outcome’s doubtful. If the memories are there, they’ve been locked up tight. Breaking that lock could be dangerous.”

“We’ll save that for a last resort,” Jess said. “I’ve found references in some black-market books to a Library prison in Rome. Ancient references, though. Nothing recent.”

“Rome would be logical,” Khalila said. “After all, next to Alexandria, it’s the city most loyal to the Library. The Basilica Julia is almost as large as the Serapeum here.”

“You’ve been to Rome?”

“Once,” she admitted. “My family toured the Forum and other famous sites. It was overwhelming. I’ve never seen anything like it. To be honest, I would think we’d have a better chance of rescuing him from Alexandria than Rome.”

“Well,” Jess said, “it was just a reference, ages old. Might mean nothing. The Artifex could have him anywhere. Anywhere the Library has a foothold.”

It was a depressing thought, and silence fell heavy. A breeze blew cool off the water, ruffling Khalila’s scarf and dress, and Dario said, “We’re not going to find him this way. The Archivist isn’t a fool. He won’t leave clues right out in the open. We have to dig deeper.”

“Where? It’s a large world, Dario.”

The Spaniard looked away, out toward the harbor, and said, “I applied for a position with the Artifex Magnus. We all know he’s the Archivist’s right-hand man.”

“You what?” Glain barked, and she’d gotten it out a bare instant before Jess would have said the same. “Are you mad?”

“Someone has to get close to him. Gain his trust. I can do that.” Dario shifted his stare back to each of them in turn. “I’m the best suited—bright enough to be useful; not enough to be a threat. I’m ruthless. I have wealth and excellent family connections. And I have a certain charm.”

“I give you credit for leaving that to last,” Jess said. It was a surprisingly accurate and unflinching self-assessment. He hadn’t thought Dario quite so insightful about his own gifts and flaws. “What about your post with Scholar Prakesh? I thought you were happy there.”