‘Just to check,’ Irene said. ‘You haven’t been doing anything I should know about, Kai?’ She didn’t think he had, but it was probably a good idea to check first, before they got to any blame-slinging.
‘Unfortunately not.’ Kai found his coat, flinging it over his shoulders. ‘Do you think it has something to do with last night?’
‘It seems likely, given his timing,’ Irene said. ‘Let’s go and find out.’
There were always problems in dealing with the Fae. Despite their human appearance, they were soul-destroying entities from beyond space and time, who introduced chaos into alternate worlds. One method they used was to subvert people’s usual lives and narratives, drawing them into endless patterns of stories. This weakened reality and the natural order of things, until the native population didn’t know what was truth and what was fiction. At that point, the world would drown in a sea of chaos. And, more practically, they constantly tried to play hero or villain of their personal narrative, insisted that you had to be a character in that story, and refused to deal with you in any other way.
The coffee shop was a den of snobs, and wasn’t one of Irene’s favourites. Which made it perfect for a possible confrontation that might result in her being permanently banned and never darkening its doorway again.
A cab with the Liechtenstein crest had drawn up outside, the engine turning over and giving off little random flares of ether. The driver sat at his post, still perfectly poised despite the heat and the smog, but Irene saw his eyes follow her and Kai as they approached the cafe.
‘It could be worse,’ Irene said. ‘Silver might have arrived by private airship.’
Kai nodded. ‘Vale told me they’ve got a new model out. It’s even smaller than the one-man models the museums use.’
‘ “They” as in Liechtenstein?’
Kai nodded. ‘He said everyone was bidding for them, and that levels of spying on this new technology had gone through the roof.’
‘Much like the airships?’ Irene sighed when that didn’t get a laugh. ‘Now remember,’ she murmured. ‘Polite. Noncommittal. Don’t give him any excuses for dramatics.’
‘Of course,’ Kai said. He drew himself up to his full height, stepped behind Irene’s shoulder and let her lead the way in.
All the ladies of leisure had congregated in one corner and were holding their coffee cups under their noses, whispering amongst themselves in a semi-panicked, semi-fascinated hissing. Their attention was undeniably on Silver, lounging at a vacant table on the other side of the room. Not surprising, given Silver’s reputation as one of London’s biggest libertines. A thin, pale-faced servant in grey stood behind him, holding Silver’s cane.
Silver himself was looking casually rakish, with his cravat knotted at his throat, his silver hair loose and his tanned skin golden against his white cuffs and collar. ‘Ah,’ he said on noticing Irene’s entrance. ‘Please join me.’ Another burst of whispering from the women on the other side of the cafe followed his words.
They seated themselves as Kai and Silver exchanged guarded glares.
‘Coffee?’ Silver suggested. ‘I would recommend a demitasse of the Bourbon blend.’
Kai looked ready to refuse on the spot, on principle, until he glanced at the menu. ‘Of course,’ he said with a thin smile.
Irene looked at the menu card surreptitiously. It was the most expensive brand of coffee listed.
‘My treat, of course,’ Silver began.
‘Please, Lord Silver,’ Irene said, before Kai could be undiplomatic. ‘We wouldn’t wish to put ourselves under an obligation towards you.’ Such things carried weight with the Fae.
Silver shrugged. ‘Can’t blame me for trying,’ he said, ‘although I give you my word there will be no obligation incurred for your coffee. Still, I believe this meeting will serve.’
‘Serve?’ Kai said. ‘You haven’t even said what this is about yet.’
‘Nor can I.’ Silver leaned forward, and his attitude of casual melodrama seemed to shift and fall away from him, leaving him quite serious. ‘If anyone asks, you can tell them it was about something to do with Vale. I have no objection to you linking his name with mine. But I’m here to discuss your future well-being.’
‘Threats?’ Kai sneered.
‘Oh, do leave that be,’ Silver sighed. ‘I had to get your attention somehow. It wasn’t as if I was actually trying to break into your house.’
Irene frowned. ‘Lord Silver, if this isn’t a threat, then what is it? Are you here to warn us about something?’
Silver glanced over his shoulder. ‘Johnson, fetch the coffee.’ He turned back to Irene. ‘No, no, of course not, we are just having a pleasant little conversation. Because if I were here to warn you about something, I would be breaking an oath that I have sworn, not to warn you about something. I trust we are all perfectly clear on this point?’
Irene and Kai exchanged glances. ‘Of course,’ Irene said smoothly. ‘We’re just drinking coffee together.’ She had been told the Fae were obliged to keep their oaths, but she’d never been in a position where it was really tested. If Silver was actually being truthful here, then they had even more to worry about than they’d thought.
‘Precisely.’ Silver looked relieved. ‘And please don’t think that this little coffee-drinking session is due to any actual affection for you, little mouse. You crashed my ball a few months back, you snatched a book out of my fingers, and you quite failed to mention that you were a representative of your Library. Any good guide to etiquette would mark you down on all three points.’
Irene raised her eyebrows. ‘As I remember it, you invited me to the ball, and the book was disputed property in any case.’
‘Finders keepers, I believe the legal term is,’ Kai put in smugly.
Silver glanced at him sidelong, the light catching his lavender eyes and making them glitter. ‘A person like you should be more careful,’ he said. ‘This sphere is hardly the most hospitable to your kind.’
Irene held up a hand before Kai could answer. ‘I thought we weren’t indulging in threats,’ she said coldly.
Silver studied her, as his servant placed cups of coffee on the table. ‘It is extremely difficult to suggest that you might possibly be in extreme peril without going to the extent of “warning” you,’ he finally said. ‘I’m simply having a cup of coffee with you, and suggesting that you might both want to be very careful. Why not take a little vacation to that Library of yours?’
Retreat to the Library was a sensible response to overt danger. Of course, this all hinged on Silver actually being reliable, which was far from certain.
‘Lord Silver,’ Irene said, picking up her cup. ‘You are the Ambassador from Liechtenstein, and to the best of my understanding that makes you one of the most powerful of your kind in London. Possibly even in England.’ Not entirely true. She’d heard stories of other creatures in the wilds of the British Isles - Wild Hunts, Faerie Courts and all that sort of thing - but it seemed a good moment to pour on the flattery. ‘But in the past we’ve been on opposite sides. Have we suddenly become allies, and I failed to notice it?’
‘Being my ally might have its advantages.’ Silver bared his teeth in a flashing smile. They were perfectly white, with just a suggestion of sharpness about them. Irene found herself wondering how they would feel against her wrist, the back of her hand, the side of her neck … He would be gentle, of course; she could tell from his eyes and his smile that he would be gentle, but at the same time he would be masterful, with the easy grace of control and skill and …
And he was trying to throw a glamour over her. Glamour was one of the Fae’s most convenient tools, a mixture of illusion and desire that somehow crept past all conscious defences, like the very best sort of insanity. She felt a burning across her shoulders as the Library brand on her skin flared in response, and drew herself up straight in her seat with a little sniff. She hoped she hadn’t been staring like a gawping idiot.
‘Such pretty skin you h
ave, little mouse,’ Silver said, his smile broadening.
Irene gave him her coldest glare, summoning memories of particularly frosty and upright teachers from school. ‘I repeat my question. If this is true, why should you want to help us?’
Silver swayed a hand backwards and forwards. ‘Let’s suppose that it might not be so much that I’m helping you, as that I’m hindering someone else.’
Irene glanced sideways at Kai. He gave her a very slight nod of cautious agreement. She looked back to Silver. ‘Which you can’t tell us about, of course.’
‘Precisely,’ Silver said. He took a sip of his coffee.
There had to be some way Irene could exploit this situation. But the Fae couldn’t be trusted. It was practically written into their implied social contract. They weakened any world where they congregated, increasing its tendency towards chaos, and she totally agreed with Kai that they should be stopped wherever possible.
‘Your skin is very nice too, sir,’ she said as blandly as she could. His skin was perfect, actually, with the sort of idealized golden tan that came with an inner glow and a feeling of warmth that invited one to lean over and touch it - damn it, he was trying his glamour on her again. She decided to go on the attack. ‘Tell me, does the name Vlad Petrov mean anything to you?’
‘Vlad Petrov?’ Silver looked perplexed. He leaned backwards to murmur to his servant. Kai took advantage of his distraction to whisper in Irene’s ear, ‘Wasn’t that the cabby they mentioned last night?’
Irene nodded in response, as Silver leaned forward again. ‘Well,’ he said lazily. ‘I have no idea why I should remember every driver on my Embassy staff. I cannot see why you expect me to be aware of the fact that he was assigned as driver to Lady Guantes while she’s been staying here, even if she’s been monopolizing the Embassy network of informants. Goodness knows what she’s been doing with them. Guests can be so inconvenient, and so difficult to refuse. Honestly, if this is an example of your pettifogging concerns, I am going to be bored to tears.’ But there was a glint to his eyes that suggested she was on the right track.
Lady Guantes. And the woman who hired those thugs was a Lady … But that’s scarcely enough to go on. Something else tickled the back of Irene’s mind. Guantes. Gloves. The woman had worn a scarf pin showing a pair of hands … or a pair of gloves? If Silver was reliable, Irene now had a name to investigate. If. This could all be a complicated lure into an even bigger trap. Frustration gnawed at her guts. What she needed was more information about this Lady Guantes.
‘Now, to return to our previous subject,’ Silver said. ‘What do you intend to do?’
‘Ask more questions,’ Irene said promptly. ‘Which means that we need to be on our way. I will leave you to your coffee, Lord Silver. Since you haven’t warned us about anything, we have nothing to thank you for.’
Silver nodded. ‘In the meantime, you may therefore consider this to be an open invitation to my Embassy.’ He reached into his coat and picked out a card, flicking it across the table towards Irene. It slid across the table’s glossy inlay, pivoting round and coming to a stop exactly in front of her.
It was a heavy cream card with a secretive sparkle in every letter of the print. On the one side it gave a full list of Silver’s titles, in a tiny font, to fit them all in. The other side was bare, except for a scrawled: To be admitted to my presence at once - S.
‘You think we’ll need that?’ Kai asked, reading it over Irene’s shoulder.
‘I plan for the worst,’ Silver said. ‘That way, at least I’m dressed for the occasion.’ He rose to his feet in a swirl of cape. ‘Johnson! We must not keep Lord Guantes waiting. The bill!’
‘Already paid, sir,’ Johnson murmured.
Silver bowed to Kai. He bowed to Irene. He almost managed to grasp Irene’s wrist and kiss her hand, but she successfully stepped back, while thrusting the visiting card into her handbag.
‘What do you make of that?’ Kai demanded as Silver swept out.
‘That he left us to tip the waiter,’ Irene said. ‘Typical.’
‘No, no. Other than that. He’s going to talk to Lord Guantes?’
‘We don’t know enough,’ Irene said, frowning. ‘And we’ve been delayed, in any case. Let’s hope that wasn’t his objective in the first place. Kai, I’m going to take the Stoker book to the Library and do some digging on Lady Guantes. Or Lord Guantes. If they’re a notable threat to Librarians, then something may have been recorded. I want you to update Vale, ask questions and get his advice. I’ll meet you at his lodgings. I shouldn’t be long.’ And by that time she should know if retreat to the Library, or a vacation to another continent, would be the best option.
‘Irene …’ Kai reached out to touch her wrist. ‘Be careful.’
She managed a wry smile. ‘Yes, of course. And you too. Even if we aren’t dressed for the occasion.’
CHAPTER FOUR
Kai was still speculating about Silver’s possible treachery when Irene pushed him into a cab. He drew a verbal picture of the two of them being goaded into paranoia and turned into serial killers, before tragically cutting a loved one’s throat. Irene made a mental note to find out where Kai was getting Sweeney Todd plotlines from and to take it away from him.
It was certainly true that the Fae liked to construct complicated and melodramatic plots, and enjoyed drawing everyone nearby into roles in the storyline. Irene had been warned about it, and she’d avoided more than one of these herself in the past. And it was true that, due to the Fae presence, this world had a higher level of chaos than was comfortable, or indeed safe, given the potential for reality distortion. The Fae infested it (as Kai would put it) like worms in a well-seasoned grave.
But the attack last night had been real. And Silver’s warning had felt real, too. It was reassuring to know that Kai would be with Vale while Irene herself was in the Library. She did trust Kai; she just wasn’t sure that she trusted him not to do anything valiant but stupid.
Not being able to saunter between worlds like a dragon, she had to use a nominated Library doorway to enter its halls. And the current main Traverse from this alternate to the Library was situated in the British Museum, in what was the previous Librarian-in-Residence’s office. After a series of unfortunate events, it was now a box room, meaning that she had to make a special trip to access it. And special trips could be traced, so it was time for a slightly riskier mode of transport.
All that a Librarian really needed to reach the Library was a sufficiently large collection of books or similar media. For Irene’s purposes, she also needed a place where she could be undisturbed for half an hour or more. The Senate House Library in Malet Street was within walking distance of her lodgings and would do the job nicely - and she’d previously enrolled as a student, so all her identification would be in order.
She collected the Stoker book and headed over. The library was moderately busy, but Irene had no difficulty finding her way to a side corridor, using the Language to open the lock on a ‘restricted section’ with a quick whisper of ‘Open, lock’ and then locking it behind her again. The walls were heavy with ranks of leather-bound volumes, their titles barely discernible in the thin ether-light from a swaying bulb. Dust on the shelves and floor indicated that this area was not often used. She’d scouted it a couple of weeks ago.
She walked along to the first storage-room door, put down her attache case and took out a small bottle of ink and a fountain pen. This was a new skill for her, only passed on when she became a Librarian-in-Residence. (She was still a bit resentful about that. It would have been extremely useful. And how many other things were still hidden from her?)
Normally, when creating a temporary doorway to the Library, a Librarian spoke specific words in the Language, while using a strong access point (such as a large collection of books) to forge a connection. This lasted long enough for the agent to pass through. They must then let the connection close behind them, as the two places dropped out of synchronization. More recently, Ir
ene had been shown that with the written form of the Language one could make the connection last a little longer. Long enough to go through to the Library, transact some business and then get back again to the same alternate-world location through the same door.
Carefully she went down on one knee, drawing the characters for THIS DOOR OPENS TO THE LIBRARY above the handle. It would work just as well to scrawl the words across the middle of the door, but she liked to keep it unobtrusive.
As she finished the last character, she felt the sudden shift in reality and her energy levels dropped to fuel the connection. She stayed on her knees, focusing on her breathing until it steadied, and put away the pen and ink. The Language characters were visibly drying on the wood and already starting to fade. They’d last perhaps half an hour. She didn’t have long.
‘Open,’ she said, giving the word its full inflection in the Language, with the special suffix indicating that the door must open to the Library itself.
And it did.
Irene stepped into a warmer, high-ceilinged room, the walls draped with red-and-white quilts. Multiple incandescent lights blazed whitely in the ceiling, but the soft cotton of the quilts muted the effect, making the room more tolerable.
Curiously she pulled one of the quilts away from the wall. Behind it there were shelves of books, their spines in a mixture of English, Swedish and German, with titles such as Little Sod House on the Prairie, Vigilante Stories of New Gothenburg and Runestones of North America. There was no explanation for why the quilts were covering them. Then again, there was often no reason for the Library’s architecture or furnishings.
Outside the room, the brass plaque on its door read: B-133 - NORTH AMERICAN LITERATURE-20TH CENTURY - SECTION FIVE. Not a room she recognized. And she found herself in a corridor both paved and walled in blue-and-white marble, with shuttered windows that would have been too high to see out of anyway. To her right was a flight of stairs, leading downwards. To her left was a simple bend in the corridor.
The Masked City Page 4
