The Secret Chapter

by Genevieve Cogman

  ‘I see.’ Irene was sure that there was more to it than that, but Mr Nemo seemed in no mood to share. ‘Oh, there is one more thing . . .’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I hope this suite you’ve arranged isn’t being monitored.’ She waved vaguely at the walls and the microphones almost certainly hidden behind them. ‘I wouldn’t want to destroy your property while insisting on our right to privacy.’

  Mr Nemo pursed his lips. ‘But imagine my feelings if you had a heart attack and were unable to call for help. Any supervision is purely for the benefit of my guests. If you really want a private conversation, there are plenty of places on my island where you can have one.’

  Irene suppressed an image of dolphins with microphones, swimming closer to aquarium windows to pick up conversations. ‘I’m afraid this is non-negotiable,’ she said. ‘The alternative is that I use my abilities to destroy your monitoring systems – wherever I go here.’

  ‘Oh, very well.’ He sighed. ‘I give you my word that the suite you are currently occupying will not be monitored. I reserve the right to openly communicate with you while you’re in there – as we’re doing now.’

  Irene knew that Fae promises were binding, but that he’d stick to the letter of the promise rather than the spirit. Which meant that everywhere else in this island was probably monitored. But it was better than nothing. ‘I appreciate your generosity,’ she said.

  ‘Excellent. And I’ll hope to have an answer for you soon. Possibly even before supper.’

  ‘Surely not that long . . .’ Irene started. Then she realized, with a cold uncertainty, that she wasn’t sure what time of day it was, or how long she and Kai had been asleep. All she knew was that the sun was shining outside. She glanced at the watch on her wrist; it was half past three in the afternoon. They’d lost most of a day.

  ‘Oh, I dine early,’ Mr Nemo said. ‘Any further questions? Are you looking for something from me, Prince Kai?’

  ‘I am not,’ Kai said, in the most austerely icy tone Irene had ever heard him use.

  ‘Of course, of course. Very proper. And you, Miss Winters?’

  ‘I’m sure I’ll think of half a dozen requests once we’ve finished this conversation,’ Irene admitted, ‘but I have nothing right now.’

  ‘Very good. There’s a phone by the bed if you need anything brought to your rooms. I’ll see you later.’

  He raised his glass in a salute, and the screen dissolved into darkness.

  ‘Well.’ Irene took a deep breath. ‘This is probably the only place in the entire island where we can talk freely. Do you have any idea where we are?’

  ‘Give me a moment.’ A flickering pattern of scales washed across Kai’s skin, like fractal images, then dissolved again. For a moment Irene thought she could smell the sea inside the room, even with the air conditioning on and the windows closed. ‘We are still within the same waters that we were yesterday. The same chain of islands, I think, the same ocean that washes them. Other than that . . . no. Sorry.’

  Irene shrugged. ‘It was worth a try. Don’t worry. I don’t think it makes much difference that we don’t know where we are.’

  Kai’s eyebrows rose. ‘That’s a reason not to worry?’

  ‘I’m not saying that our situation is exactly good.’ Irene swung her legs round and stood up, testing her balance. ‘After all, we’re in the territory of a powerful Fae, we don’t know exactly where we are, we’ve lost our luggage, anything that we say outside this room is probably going to be overheard – and we’re on a deadline.’

  Kai lay back and folded his arms behind his head. ‘I do enjoy it when you get optimistically fatalistic,’ he said. ‘So what do you see as the good points?’

  ‘Well, this place isn’t too high-chaos, or I’d be sensing it more and you’d be complaining.’ She waited for a nod from Kai before she continued. ‘And let’s be reasonable in our threat assessment: while this is a gilded cage, we can escape from it. From that balcony out there, or maybe this island’s beaches: I imagine you could take dragon form and leave that way.’

  ‘I’d need to be sufficiently far away from the centre of this island,’ Kai said thoughtfully. ‘Here in the middle of it, I’m not sure I could assume my proper form. It may not be very high-chaos . . . but it is high-chaos.’

  ‘But Mr Nemo doesn’t necessarily know that,’ Irene pointed out.

  Weighing up the situation helped to calm her nerves. Her stomach wanted to tie itself into knots with urgency – she felt she should be getting hold of the book now, or the world where she’d been to school might be lost past saving – even if common sense told her that she had at least a week. Mr Nemo had never been going to hand the book over on the spot. However, she still didn’t like being at anyone’s mercy, least of all someone who might trade in people and promises just as often as he traded in items.

  ‘He’s interested in what we can offer, too – which might keep us safe,’ she added. ‘And he knows we’re under the protection of the Library.’

  ‘Well, he knows you are,’ Kai interjected. ‘I just tagged along.’

  ‘But you’re a political figure now,’ Irene said, trying to reclaim the point she’d been making. ‘You’re formally accompanying me. And . . .’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘What do you want to bet that dragons have dealt with him in the past?’

  ‘Considering the protocols he’s put in place for not meeting me in person, I’d say it’s almost certain.’ Kai’s tone was resigned rather than offended.

  Irene nodded. ‘All good points. As someone once said, “After being struck on the head with an axe, it is a positive pleasure to be beaten about the body with a wooden club.”’

  ‘That doesn’t sound like Confucius.’

  ‘No, I think it’s actually Kai Lung. Come on. Let’s get cleaned up and go for a stroll.’

  The corridors outside were empty. There were no people. There was no dust. There were tactfully unobtrusive monitoring cameras, and occasional television screens set into the wall. But apart from that they were alone in a maze that combined the motifs of expensive hotel and secret villain base. The place didn’t feel deserted or barren, but Irene felt like an ant walking through it, a prisoner in someone’s vivarium.

  There were stairs up. There were stairs down. There were glass doorways – closed and impenetrable – looking out onto the beaches outside. There were a lot of aquariums. After an hour of wandering round and failing to get her bearings, Irene found the fishes a welcome distraction, even if they weren’t a useful landmark.

  As they came to the latest set of locked French windows, giving them another beach view, she turned to Kai. ‘Why do you think we aren’t being allowed to go outside? To make sure you can’t identify the location?’

  ‘Without a doubt,’ Kai agreed. He looked out at the sea beyond, his eyes yearning. ‘There’s nothing like the living water. That time in Venice, the water was polluted by chaos. And in Vale’s world, it’s polluted by . . . well, pollutants. But here I’m sure it would be better. Mr Nemo couldn’t taint the entire ocean. It would wake me from a thousand years of sleep to have the water touch my skin.’

  ‘I wish I could appreciate it the way you do.’ There were no planes visible in the sky, no boats on the water: as far as Irene could tell, they could be anywhere in the entire Caribbean, in any world. For dragons, she knew, it was different. Especially to one whose element was water, and who could command it to obey his will. ‘But I’m glad that there might be something you could enjoy. I feel a bit guilty about having brought you here.’

  He gave her a sidelong glance. ‘I thought that we’d agreed that we were equals now. You didn’t order me to come.’

  ‘No,’ Irene admitted, ‘but you’re only here because I am.’ That wouldn’t count as ‘intelligence’, to anyone who knew who they were, yet they both automatically glanced around for hidden cameras.

  ‘Let’s talk about something non-sensitive,’ Kai said. A school of fish flashed thr
ough an aquarium at the end of the corridor, their long draping fins like fireworks in shades of orange and blue. They wandered closer to watch. ‘Tell me about your schooldays.’

  Irene suppressed her immediate reaction to bristle. That was so unfair. She’d never – well, hardly ever – asked him about his past. About his father. About why he’d been living with his uncle instead. About his mysterious ‘low-born’ mother. About anything particularly personal – unless there was no other choice. ‘Must we?’ she said drily.

  ‘I thought friendships were supposed to be built on honesty,’ Kai said, a little plaintively.

  ‘Maybe,’ Irene conceded, ‘but not necessarily full disclosure.’

  He shrugged. ‘I assumed it was just, well, school.’

  Irene reflected for a moment on how sensitive his question really was, in the light of their mission to save that world. After all, everything they said could be overheard. And this was a chapter of her life that she had never really discussed with other Librarians either. The fish beyond the glass circled in aimless patterns, and she wondered if they were aware that they were trapped in a glass tank, or if they assumed that there were always walls and that was simply how life was. ‘Kai,’ she said, ‘I will try to be honest with you.’

  About some things, at least, she thought.

  ‘The problem is that my parents are – were – very good Librarians, which means that they were excellent spies and thieves, and they brought me up to be like them. They needed to have absolute control of information, because of their training, too. They had that need to know everything that was going on around them, in case it could be a danger. They were constantly on their guard. Always watching, always studying, always working, because that’s what they were. And they were absolutely certain that whatever they did was for the best reasons – and that those reasons justified anything at all.’

  Kai was silent, listening to her, but she knew he understood she was also describing herself at her worst. She couldn’t entirely blame her parents if she was just as careful, just as paranoid – even if she’d learned it from them.

  Irene swallowed. Her throat was dry. ‘When they sent me to boarding school, at first I was furious. I wasn’t good enough to go with them! I had a whole lot of complicated feelings which didn’t make me a very pleasant little girl. But the school was good for me. Living full-time with people who weren’t Librarians – who didn’t revel in secrecy and have a need to control everything around them . . . It taught me some things which aren’t in the Library code of conduct.’

  She remembered something Melusine had said, a detail from Irene’s permanent record: You were educated at boarding school due to parents having growing problems with your behaviour. Had living together with her been as difficult for her parents as it had been for her?

  ‘So, now you know.’ She made herself look at him. ‘That school gave me something I badly needed. Which is why . . .’ Which is why I’ll do whatever’s necessary to save it. ‘. . . I sometimes find it difficult to talk about it.’

  Before Kai could respond, there was a call from further down the corridor. Irene would have sworn there hadn’t been a door there a moment ago. A woman in a floral bikini was waving at them. ‘Honoured guests! Mr Nemo requests that you attend for drinks and dinner.’

  Their guide led them on a new route through the maze of passages. Irene wasn’t sure whether to ascribe her own difficulty in navigating them to Fae magic, secret behind-the-scenes shifting of panels, or the fact that the twisting turning corridors all looked alike. The woman padded along barefoot, her floral bikini and curling hair incongruous against the futuristic dark metal walls and polished flooring.

  Irene and Kai had been allowed time to change their clothing first: their escort, as yet unnamed, had made it clear that it was Mr Nemo’s wish. Irene had been ready to comply, but she’d been less enthusiastic when she’d found out that all the evening dresses in the wardrobe – even the halter-neck Versace catsuit – were low-cut and showed the Library brand across her shoulders. While technically she knew that Mr Nemo knew who and what she was, it still left her feeling uncomfortably exposed.

  Which is probably all part of the process, she reflected. Now what can I do to set Mr Nemo equally off-balance?

  Voices echoed from the room ahead, indistinct but clearly multiple. Irene frowned and raised a hand to stop Kai. Their guide took a few steps, realized she was no longer being followed, and glanced back.

  ‘I wasn’t aware that there were going to be so many people at dinner,’ Irene said quietly. A number of unpleasant possibilities were coming to mind, with the first and foremost being that she and Kai might be candidates for sale or auction.

  ‘Mr Nemo will explain everything,’ the woman said. Her face was carefully neutral, but there was a flicker of fear in her eyes. Of Irene and Kai? Or of what Mr Nemo would do to her if they didn’t show up?

  ‘Kai?’ Irene queried.

  He knew her well enough to understand the question. ‘An acceptable risk, I think,’ he said.

  ‘Very well.’ Irene turned back to their guide. ‘Lead on.’

  Visible tension knotted the woman’s shoulders as she continued. Irene spared a moment to wonder, When did I become a threat, rather than just being perceived as the minion or the nonentity? Have things changed that much?

  But she was here, the Library’s representative under the new peace treaty, negotiating with a powerful Fae on behalf of the Library – and accompanied by a dragon prince. The answer her mind came up with was Yes, they have.

  The door in front of them swung open, and she and Kai walked in.

  The first thing that caught her eye was the huge glass wall that made up one side of the room. They were below sea level here, and the giant window looked out into the ocean depths, into a spotlit landscape of seaweed and passing fishes. The vista dwarfed the half-dozen people who sat around an oval table, cradling their glasses.

  At the head of the table stood a large television set, again displaying Mr Nemo. He looked exactly as he had done during his earlier conversation with Irene. It was as if the camera had only moved away for a second, even though the previous meeting had been hours ago. ‘Our last remaining guests,’ he said. ‘Welcome to our little get-together. Perhaps I should make introductions?’

  ‘Perhaps you should.’ The woman who spoke set down her martini glass. Her long blonde hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders with the sort of casual elegance that took either miraculous coincidence or a team of expert hairdressers. She was in an evening dress, like Irene, and her tailored sheath was blue silk that matched her eyes. But she somehow retained a girl-next-door air – not really trying to look glamorous yet still emphatically succeeding. ‘I’d thought this gathering was much more . . . exclusive.’

  ‘Well, it’s not as if Mr Nemo showed us the guest list.’ The man who spoke was on the other side of the screen. His dinner suit said wealthy, but the line of the jacket suggested a shoulder holster. An old scar seamed the line of his jaw, ivory-pale against his black skin. The artificial light gleamed on the gold ring on his right hand and on the cards on the table in front of him. ‘And there are two chairs unfilled at this table. Isn’t that so?’

  ‘Whatever.’ The sturdy woman next to him was emphatically not in evening dress. A faded denim jacket made her bulky shoulders even wider, and her T-shirt and jeans were battered and stained. Her face was tanned, and her dark hair was sun-paled in places to almost the same shade of brown. Someone had broken her axe-blade nose in the past. She slouched in her chair, fidgeting with her glass. ‘Can we get on with this? I didn’t come here to sit around and be talked at. If you’ve got a job for me, then give me the details. If not, show me the frigging door.’

  ‘We have been brought together as a crew, surely,’ the big man across from her said. His dinner suit didn’t fit him. His blond hair was buzz-cut, and his battered hands looked large enough to strangle bulldogs. He cradled a tiny cocktail glass between his fingers. Ire
ne suspected that he might have been seven feet tall if he’d been standing up; seated, he made everyone else at the table look slightly out of proportion. His accent was Russian or Eastern European – Irene couldn’t be sure, especially given the way he dealt out his sentences as though he was being charged by the word. ‘And no doubt, given the different skills around this table, we will be paid large amounts of money to steal . . . something. The crew’s membership is at the discretion of the boss.’

  ‘I’m with Ernst, let’s get down to business,’ the fifth person at the table said. Somehow, even though he was sitting at a table in the centre of a well-lit room, he gave the impression of hunching in a shadowy corner. His hands were manicured and well-kept, long-fingered and precise. His face was harder to see clearly, hidden under a cap of dark hair. However, Irene noted smooth anonymous features and a dark suit that seemed to absorb light. He was sitting next to the man with the playing cards, and there was something in their body language that made Irene think they knew each other.

  ‘And have we no comments from our sixth member?’ Mr Nemo asked.

  All eyes turned to the sixth person at the table. Irene felt Kai go tense beside her. For this woman wasn’t a Fae like the others. She was a dragon. She was pale-skinned and dark-eyed, with hair so black it went through to the other side of darkness and hit an indigo midnight shade beyond. It was very long and straight, with some coiled up round her head and some falling to puddle on the floor beside her chair. Her clothing was brutally plain, a vest-top and trousers in white silk. A silver cuff round her right wrist was fastened to the arm of her chair. Like Kai – like all the dragons Irene had ever met – she had a flamelike quality, a power to her presence which forced the onlooker to reconsider what beauty was.

  ‘No comment,’ the dragon said flatly. ‘Get on with your offer and let me decide whether or not to take it.’

  Something twitched at the back of Irene’s mind. This situation is familiar, and it’s not just because it’s a narrative trope and I’m in a Fae’s private lair. Something here is being deliberately engineered . . .