Page 88 of Sword & Sacrifice

Spiders poured out of a box of files. People shouted in alarm and Silas’ own distant voice barked instructions. Silas—Quentin—remained frozen as the spiders swarmed toward him. Even as one crawled up his arm and sunk its fangs right into his neck.

“He said he could lift the curse,” Quentin said, “but only after I brought him the ledger. I tried to get it from the librarian.”

“You don’t understand,” Silas insisted, voice high and strained. “I need it for my work—”

“I understand perfectly, young man,” Mr. Oakley said, glaring over his glasses. “I understand that this ledger may contain important evidence that the king himself has ordered me to keep safe. I will not be derelict in my duties simply because you are behind on your own work. This book is going straight to the Records Room, and it isn’t coming out under anyone’s orders except the king’s.”

The scene changed in a blink, dumping Silas back into the small kitchen of Quentin’s apartment. “Mr. Oakley wouldn’t give it to me—”

“Damned if I care what that old librarian says! You never should have let them take it in the first place! If I’d known you were this incompetent and useless, I would have fired you years ago and found someone useful to take your place.”

“When I failed, Jacoby finally gave up on me and said he would use someone else.”

The itch along Silas’ mind had worsened with every new memory. Although he could identify the source now, he still had to grit his teeth against the budding pain. “And who was this ‘someone’ else?”

“Soldiers,” Quentin replied with a grimace. “Jacoby bribed them to get the ledger by any means necessary.”

“And they set fire to the library in the process.” Phantom heat bathed Silas’ skin while the scent of smoke ticked his nose.

Quentin nodded, tears dotting his eyelashes. “I needed Jacoby to lift the curse, so I secretly followed him to the Vault that night. I found Jacoby in here,” he waved to the office around them, “arguing with the soldiers about their payment.”

“What the fuck is this?” one soldier demanded, holding up Silas’ crown clenched in one hand.

“Your payment,” Jacoby replied coldly, his back to the soldiers as he scooped armloads of gold coins into a canvas bag.

The scene was oddly skewed and obscured in a way Silas couldn’t quite identify, like he was crouched behind something, hiding himself from view.

“Bullshit it is. You promised us ten thousand gold—”

“All of that”—Jacoby waved toward the sack of jewelry one of the other soldiers rifled through. Rings and smaller gems spilled out of it onto the Vault’s floor—“is worth far more than ten thousand.”

“Only after it’s sold, and no one in this damned kingdom will touch it!”

Jacoby locked eyes with the soldiers and declared, “What does that matter? None of us will be welcome in this kingdom after tonight.”

“Eventually, one of the soldiers hit him over the head.”

The wet smack of a sword’s pommel against skin. The heavy thump of Jacoby’s body falling to the floor, his upper body in the Vault while his legs rested outside of it.

“They stole all the gold they could carry.”

A soldier picked up the bag Jacoby had been stuffing. “How much is this? Should we grab more?”

Shouting rose in the distance as people discovered the fire. Smoke was already drifting into the room. “If we stick around too long, we’ll burn with the rest of the place.”

“Then they stuffed Jacoby in the Vault and closed the door.”

One soldier grabbed Jacoby’s shoulders, the other his legs. They dragged him backwards into the Vault. “Isn’t there a reward for this guy’s capture?” one of them asked.

The other snorted. “If you want to risk your life trying to collect it, that’s your business.”

“Doing their work for them and we don’t even get fucking paid for it,” the first grumbled.

Together, they grabbed the massive steel door and dragged it closed.

By then, smoke was leaking through the cracks in the door, burning Silas’ throat. He clapped a hand over his mouth to suppress a cough, afraid that if they caught him, they’d stuff him into the Vault right alongside Jacoby.

“And how did you get the key?” Silas asked, his own voice feeling faint and unreal with Quentin’s thoughts clouding his head.