“And should we not,” Percival added, “then he picks two more of us from those still hidden.”
“Until he has no use for scholars anymore—and an army that he is no longer beholden to the Iron Citadel for, to hunt us down.” Roy could almost see it: hundreds of thousands of red-eyed conquerors, hunting down those whose only interest was to find and share the truth; the darkness of the Old Ones’ armor replaced with the darkness of the Governor’s iron rule.
“These are our people, Percival. Or, at least, theyshouldbe our people.We can’t let this happen. Our time here has shown me just how much we can accomplish if we’re not hidden away in warrens and immolated bookshops, hoping for a bit of correspondence that will bolster or refute our theories. The Old Ones are proof of how unthinking brutes are the antithesis of an enlightened society. That’s what the Governor is looking to create, only under his terms.
“We need to offer him something that hecannotrefuse, then. And in return... we will make him guarantee our people’s safety, that those who have survived will bepermanentlyexempt from the hand they’ve been dealt. That scholarshipwilllive, so that the next time something like the Old Ones approaches our island, there will be those with the proper tools to stop them.”
“And how do you propose to do that?” Percival asked. “Negotiate with him? When are we supposed to do that—when our six months are up?”
“Yes. We withhold what we discover until he agrees.”
“And if we don’t discover anything?”
“Then we’re sealed for death anyway, no?” Roy said matter-of-factly.
Percival was silent at that, and they looked at each other for a moment, thoughtful.
Then Percival said, “We must keep what we know about the Blighted quiet, then, yes?”
“For certain. That might be our only source of leverage besides what we find to fight and hopefully remove the Old Ones. I’m not sure we can trust him to honor his word without having the threat of exposure in our pockets.” When he saw the incredulity on Percival’s face, Roy added, “Look, I’m not suggesting that the Governor is our ally or in any way honorable. But he’s the one in power, so what choices do we have? Let’s see.”
Roy ticked off a finger with each point:
“One: We give him nothing. We die. The other scholars die. Briar and the rest of Northgard dies, at either his hands or the Old Ones’.
“Two: we give him everything we know, including what we’ve learned about the Old Ones, and he takes that information to further his own goals. You and I probably die. The scholars probably die. Northgard is under his authoritarian thumb while the people are under the undead boots of his Blighted.
“Three: we at leasttryto find a better deal for us. For the scholars. And for Northgard.” He lowered his hand and looked up. “Percival, I don’t think there is really a choice at all.”
After a moment, Percival observed, “You have given this a lot of thought.”
Roy shrugged. “We’ve both had the pleasure of meeting him. I’ve just been looking at every choice we could make since then.”
“And you think when he is given a choice, he’ll be amenable?” Percival asked, raising an eyebrow.
Roy frowned. “Well, we know he’ll do anything to make this difficult.”
“So what more can he threaten us with?”
Roy instantly comprehended what Percival was intimating. “You mean, when he counters, what else do we have to give him?”
“What elsebeyondexposing his army of Blighted Droves. Because, while damaging, it’s not exactly something we canprove.It needs to be something tangible.”
“Right. It needs to be a sacrifice. For us. Something that will appease the Governor and his hard-liners, while convincing him that he still needs our intellect. And not just you and I, butallthe scholars.”
“You talk about the scholars like they aren’t already on the verge of extinction. How can we save something that’s almost dead?”
“Because they aren’t all dead—not yet. A community is a people, not a building.” Roy sighed. “And more and more, I’m convinced we’ll need them at the end of this investigation. For the aftermath, so that Northgard can have a future.”
“Fine, I’m convinced it’s worthwhile. But it still begs the question—”
“What would both appeal to himandkeep the remaining academics in Northgard protected?” Roy finished, his heart thrumming at the pensive look on Percival’s face, at how he looked around at the library at the same time as Roy.
Somehow, their thoughts had aligned. That they were evenconsideringsomething so horrific, so profane, stunned Roy.
Not a building . . .
It was Percival who said it. “We’ll find a way to bring the Basilica down. Our community, or whoever among them has escaped persecution, might—will—shun us.” His eyes went hazy, as though he was dredging up some lost memory. Roy wondered if he was thinking of his fallen friend, the friend whose death had somehow led Percival here. “But at least they’ll live on.”
