Irene hesitated. ‘That was a joke, I hope?’
‘Sadly, yes.’ He raised one of the edibles to his lips and nibbled at it. ‘Hmm, very good … I do enjoy coming here. Such a safe, reliable place.’
Those were not words that Irene would have used to describe this alternate at all. She raised an eyebrow and folded her arms under her breasts.
‘Oh, no, that won’t do at all.’ His voice dripped with honey, as rich as an opera singer about to drop an octave in a single sweep of sound. ‘My lady. Do forgive me for referring to you as a mouse. We’re past such things. I feel that we’re failing to establish any sort of proper communication here. I don’t feel truly needed, let alone desired. This won’t do.’
Irene stood her ground. ‘Lord Silver.’ She tried not to grit her teeth, because if he sensed her impatience, she might never get answers. ‘If I rescue Kai, it will be of service to both of us, given your feud with the Guantes. I apologize if my manner doesn’t please you, but I have some urgent questions.’
He licked the remains of the sugar off his fingers. ‘I know you do, my little mouse. I know they’re very urgent. I think I want to see just how urgent they are. On your knees, mouse. Over here, please.’ He gestured to beside the bed.
For a moment all Irene could think of to say was, ‘What?’ He’d flirted with her before, trailed his glamour at her like a peacock showing off his tail. But he’d behaved as he would have done towards any human being, rather than because he’d actually been interested in her. So it had felt comparatively safe.
‘Now.’ Silver gestured loosely at the floor. ‘Oh, don’t worry. I won’t do anything to you, mouse. You’re hungry, aren’t you? Hiding all night, scurrying down the corridors …’ He managed to make the words sound both beautiful and depraved at the same time, suggesting unspeakable things about the night and the corridors. ‘Let me feed you. Let me answer your questions.’ His eyes glittered: vicious, avid, hungry. ‘Let me see just how urgent your questions are, little mouse. Kneel. Or get out of here.’
She was out of options, out of allies, and Silver was making it personal - clearly very deliberately making it personal. Maybe the novelty of humiliating a Librarian fed power to one such as him.
She set her teeth and did as she was told. The hem of her dress rustled on the floor as she spread it out in a dark billow, sitting back on her heels beside the bed. Johnson had moved across to stand by the door. Standing guard? Or just not wanting to watch? It was easier to try to analyse his motivations than to think about her own feelings.
‘There. Much better.’ Silver rolled onto one side, bringing the tray of edibles with him, and lounged on one elbow, looking down at her. ‘It’s good to know that you’re sincere, my mouse.’
Irene looked down at her hands, folded neatly in her lap. It was a matter of some pride that her fingers weren’t clasped white-knuckled around each other, but instead lay perfectly still and calm, as though she were all serenity and self-control. The morning light through the windows was sharp and clear enough that she could see the small scars, thin white traceries, that curled up from her palms onto her wrists. Memories of another confrontation with a monster far worse than Silver could ever be.
Yes. This was simply petty. Having her kneel, playing his little games. And why exactly would Silver be wasting his time trying to exert a petty domination over her? People who were actually in control didn’t need to do that.
‘Now where were we? Oh yes. You had some questions. Why don’t you ask one of them.’
‘Where is Kai being held?’ Irene asked.
‘In the Prisons,’ Silver said readily. ‘Or, rather, the Carceri, as they’re called here. They are one of the main features of this bijou little sphere, after all. I should have realized that was why the auction was being held here, besides just its location. Perhaps a better question would have been a more general one, hmm?’
Irene looked up at him, and she knew that her dislike showed in her eyes. ‘You can expect a number of things from me, but I hope you don’t expect me to enjoy this. And I can’t see why you didn’t tell me that before.’
‘I didn’t tell you previously because I didn’t know,’ Silver said. ‘Messengers from the Ten were waiting at our hostelries to give us the news, to add to the drama. I suppose I might have thought of it myself, but it seemed rather extreme. The Carceri were built to hold our own kind. I would have thought that a normal dungeon would be quite good enough for a mere dragon prince. And as for you enjoying this, or not enjoying this, that’s rather the point.’
He picked up one of the small pieces of sugared pastry from his plate. ‘You see, my little mouse, I do need something from you. I am Fae, after all, and I can’t sustain myself on honour and helpfulness alone. It’s quite beyond my nature. Much as you’d like me to just answer your important questions. If I can’t provoke some utter and absolute desire, then some thorough shame and hatred will do nearly as well. And I’ll sense if I don’t get it. Now open your mouth, and let me feed you your breakfast—’ He must have caught the way she flinched back from him. She was hardly attempting to hide it. ‘Or you can simply walk out of here, and try to manage on your own. It’s entirely up to you.’
Irene had to take a couple of deep breaths to keep herself kneeling next to Silver’s bed. Her hands knotted in her linen skirts as she focused on not slapping his face. ‘Can we make a bargain?’ she asked.
‘I’m prepared to listen.’ Silver held the pastry just above the level of her face, looking down at her with such an air of appreciation that he should have been licking his lips.
Irene rose to her feet. ‘Then I think I’ll settle for the shame and humiliation.’ Anger ran in her veins, hotter than blood, and she looked down on him in disgust. ‘Yours.’
‘What?’ He had to roll back on his elbow to look up at her, and his dressing gown fell open to bare a triangle of chest. Fragmented desire flickered in her, as she responded to the power he radiated, but it was easily driven back by her irritation. ‘How dare you!’
Irene turned her back on him to walk across the room and seat herself in one of the chairs, taking her time about it and arranging her skirts neatly before replying. ‘Lord Silver. You addressed me as “lady” earlier. I would prefer you to continue doing so, rather than treating me like a subordinate - and an inferior subordinate at that.’
Silver’s eyes caught the light like faceted gems, as his face drew into an arrogant snarl of offended pride. ‘You were the one who came here asking questions,’ he snapped. ‘I don’t like this sort of behaviour, Miss Winters. I don’t like it at all.’ There was that lick of passion to his words again, stronger this time, as he focused on her.
But the fact that he was trying to bargain at all gave Irene the proof she needed. He wasn’t in control of the situation at all - not in general, here in Venice, and definitely not here in this room with her. At this precise moment he needed her help far more than she needed his. And all his little games had been to try and keep her off-balance, to stop her realizing that fact. She let herself smile. ‘Lord Silver, I don’t care what you like or don’t like. Right here and now, if I don’t rescue Kai, Lord Guantes will triumph, and you are doomed. You can give me the information I want, and that might just save you. Or you can lounge in bed and eat pastries until the roof falls in on your head. It is entirely up to you. Because, to be honest, whether or not you meet a horrible fate at Lord Guantes’ hands really doesn’t matter to me. Kai matters. You don’t.’
He stared at her. And then he smiled. It wasn’t precisely a nice smile: it was a suggestive curve of the lips, a hint of metaphorical teeth - an expression that left absolutely no humour in his eyes. But it was a smile. ‘My lady Winters, you are blossoming in the airs of this place, like a rose in spring. Do tell me what else you would like to know.’
‘Everything,’ Irene said drily. ‘But we’ll start with these Carceri. I assume the name is more than just the word prison in Italian?’
Silver swun
g himself upright, dangling his legs over the edge of the bed. ‘I don’t know how much you little Librarians know about my kind,’ he started. ‘I will assume that you have all the scandalous highlights, but very little of anything useful. So, to start by explaining this place: you know that as my kind grow in power, we become more true to ourselves?’
As in: become walking stereotypes. Irene nodded in assent, choosing to keep her eyes on his face rather than look elsewhere.
‘Well.’ He selected another piece of pastry. ‘Some of us become so great that we can no longer be confined by a single sphere or world. You know of the Rider, who brought us here?’
Irene nodded again. ‘And his Horse,’ she put in, to show that she was paying attention.
Silver shrugged. ‘That as well. But as we grow stronger, we can walk between worlds. They tremble at our passing.’ He smiled at the thought, and the morning light made his face beautiful in spite of his words. ‘At that level we can no longer touch or enter the shallower spheres, or we would break them - still less endure the small worlds that your friend Kai comes from.’
Irene shivered, grateful that at least some worlds might be free from these most powerful of Fae.
‘I am telling you this, my lady Winters, to explain another power demonstrated by our great ones. At our end of the universe, so to speak, where the forces of chaos dominate, some are so powerful that their power can permeate the very earth upon which they walk. In this way, they can instigate earthquakes, affect the movements of tides, and the like. The dragons think they control the elements, but we have our own methods of influencing our worlds.’
Irene frowned, trying to understand. And she wished she had a notebook, to preserve all of this for the Library, assuming she made it out alive. ‘So this world - or at least, this Venice - hosts Fae with these types of powers?’
‘Yes, you see you do understand. I felt I should warn you, in the interests of fair play.’ He smiled alarmingly. ‘Out here, in places that are more hospitable to my kind, the laws of the physical world are fluid, and the great ones can take advantage of that to bend them to their will. Even while the Fae here play at mortal politics, don’t forget that their power runs through this world like the blood in their veins.’
Well, that explains more about why high-chaos worlds are so dangerous … Am I contaminated? I managed to use the Language last night - but would I know if I was contaminated? Another thought came to her. ‘And is that why the atmosphere of this place is so injurious to someone like Kai? Just as you - as a being of chaos - would be hampered if you were in a world relying on order.’ And why hadn’t these rulers noticed Irene herself: was she too small for their attention?
‘And there we have the second matter.’ Silver leaned forward, regarding her. ‘This particular sphere has two points that recommend it to many of my kind, including Lord and Lady Guantes in this case. Firstly, it is neutral ground for Fae to some degree, as the rulers of this Venice keep themselves above feuds with others of their kind.’ Irene would have liked to ask more about that, but he continued, ‘This is why the Guantes have managed to invite so many of my powerful kindred to their auction. And disagreements amongst those who are invited must be suspended on this territory. The Council of Ten - the great ones who rule here - are not under the orders of the Guantes. They merely assist, aid and abet them, while playing host to the rest of us.’ He raised a finger to stop words that Irene had not spoken. ‘But don’t assume that this means that the Ten will welcome you too, pet. Quite the contrary. Be careful of whose attention you draw.’
Irene suppressed a sigh. Just one more detail that he’d omitted. ‘This would have been useful, if you had mentioned it earlier,’ she said. Like when we were planning this. ‘But I thought that, historically, the Council of Ten were just advisors to the Doge, and he was the actual ruler when Venice dominated the area—’
‘Oh, history,’ Silver cut her off. ‘You’ll be talking about reality next, as if it was something special too. In this Venice the Council of Ten rule the city from the shadows, and all fear them. They play with each other’s agents, just for the fun of it, but they always hold together against outsiders.’
‘And why are the Ten helping the Guantes?’ Irene asked.
Silver shrugged. ‘While the Ten don’t necessarily support the Guantes, they certainly aren’t going to turn down a possible advantage. If there is a war, they’ll be nowhere near it - the dragons can’t reach them here. No, the Ten will let matters play out, and will gain from hosting the auction. It’s a sensible choice.’
‘If you say so,’ Irene responded. It wasn’t worth arguing. ‘But is this explanation going somewhere?’
‘It leads directly to my next point,’ Silver said. He swung to his feet, pacing in her direction. ‘The prison. Or should that be the Prison? Or the Prisons? The Carceri. They were designed by Piranesi …’ He caught the look on Irene’s face. ‘You’re frowning. Perhaps in some other place and time this Piranesi fellow spent his life making etchings of Roman ruins, and kept his prisons imaginary. Here they’re real. They are the underbelly of this sphere’s imagination, the foundation on which this city is built.’ He leaned in closer. ‘To create a city in constant paranoia, my pet, where spies watch each other and run around like rats, where everyone fears what lies behind their neighbours’ masks, where you can post an anonymous denunciation every morning before the very Doge’s Palace … Why, for that, my little mouse, you must have prisons. Dark, choking prisons, secreted in the attics or in the cellars. But even worse than that, even more frightening, are the prisons that lie elsewhere, in dimensions only accessible via passages leading down into the darkness, to great echoing rooms and long rows of cells.’
His eyes held hers, and his voice was like silk against her skin, something trustworthy but tempting, impelling her to drink in his words rather than analyse and think. ‘In the further Prisons, the Carceri, nobody will ever find you - because nobody will ever know where you are. There is no sunlight and no wind, only the movement of air from great turning wheels, which seeps down the long passageways and stairwells. There is no fresh water and no tides, only the deep pools of ancient water that will never stir. You’ll find old stone, old timbers, old chains and racks, and all of it more enormous than you can imagine - older than time, and more patient than eternity.’
His hand cupped her face and he bent in to brush his cheek against hers, to whisper in her ear. ‘And if you are caught, my dear, that will be where they will take you, however much you scream and struggle, however prettily you beg, however desperately you fight.’ His voice caressed the words. ‘And they will keep you there until they have decided how best to … dispose of you.’
She was drowning in his closeness, his presence, his hair like silk against her cheek, his voice in her ear, his hands on her face and her neck. Long, cool fingers that traced across her skin and left her shivering and faint. All her responsibilities pulled at her and tried to draw her away - the reason why she’d come here, the Library brand across her back. But all she wanted was to want what he wanted, to let go of the petty discomforts of reality and to fall down into his eyes, to see where that voice and those hands would take her.
Which was not going to happen.
She braced herself by holding on to all that she was - I am a Librarian, I am Irene, I am not anyone’s victim - and dug in her metaphorical heels. Perhaps this was Silver’s story. But it wasn’t hers. She was not going to play his game. ‘Lord Silver,’ she said, her voice grating to her own ears, after the soft velvet of his tone, ‘you haven’t finished telling me everything I need to know.’
‘But do you really care?’ He drew back a little, enough to look her in the eyes. ‘Wouldn’t you rather …’ He let it trail off, but the meaning was clear.
He’d rather spend his time seducing me than let me save him from certain destruction. And that really said everything one needed to know about Fae who had gone too far into their archetype.
Irene pu
t her hands on his shoulders, holding him away from her. ‘Yes, I do care,’ she said. ‘And no, I wouldn’t.’
Silver drew back from her in a smooth flex of movement that she couldn’t help interpreting as elegantly muscular and seductive, even if the functioning part of her brain labelled it as a flounce. ‘I could turn you in,’ he said. ‘The Ten would appreciate a Librarian spy to question.’ It was meant to sound like a casual threat, delivered from a position of power, but she saw the fear in his eyes, and it came out as a petulant complaint.
‘And I suppose you’d say you lured me here to hand me over,’ Irene said. She kept her own tone balanced and uncaring. The one who cracked first was the one who would lose in this Fae game. And the stakes were too high for that person to be her.
‘Well, of course.’ Silver shrugged. ‘And anything you’d say about me inciting you to rescue the prisoner would be dismissed as lies.’
Irene let herself smile. ‘Then you wouldn’t care that I would be accusing you of collusion with the dragons to rescue Kai,’ she said.
Silver stared at her. ‘Nobody would believe you.’
‘Ah, but we’re in Venice.’ Irene shrugged, just as he had done. ‘You said it yourself. This is a city of spies and prisons. We’ll end up in adjoining cells. If I go down, Lord Silver, then so do you. You have everything to lose.’
A threatening silence filled the air between them, louder than any argument. Outside, the lapping of the canals and the distant ringing of bells seemed to be a thousand miles away, as the two of them stared at each other.
He was the first to look away.
‘You believe Kai is there,’ she said. Best to get the information and then get out of there, before he tried to challenge her again. ‘In those Prisons, those Carceri. Are they part of what this Venice offers to visitors? The ideal prisons to hold one’s enemies?’
Silver shrugged. ‘So I believe. I haven’t been in there myself, needless to say. They say that the Carceri could hold ones who are far stronger than me. I am sure your dragon would be a mere fly-speck within them.’
The Masked City Page 18
