The Masked City (21 page)

A man who was standing by the door coughed politely. He was wearing the same sort of clothing as Guantes, but cheaper, and in unobtrusive faded black. ‘My lord, the test?’

‘Oh, yes, I quite forgot. You may report to your lords that the dragon shows no sign of breaking free from his chains under severe provocation.’ He turned back to Kai. ‘You must excuse me. I do get distracted so easily. Tell me, who do you think would make the most plausible suspect?’

‘For what?’ Kai demanded, confused. He sank back against the wall. There was no point trying to reach Guantes. He could only hope the Fae would come closer again.

‘Kidnapping you, of course. Oh, I know that you know I did it, but who else would? There’s so much scope here, I wouldn’t want to confine myself unduly. Perhaps the best option would be to wait until word gets out about your capture and then suggest that someone was impersonating me. Or maybe that I was an agent for your mother, and the whole thing was the first strike in a civil war against your father. Of course there isn’t actually a civil war yet, but we can work on that.’ He shook his head. ‘No, I must control myself. Stick with the current plan until it’s fully carried through, as my dear wife keeps on saying.’

Kai tried to laugh, his throat still burning from the brandy. He gathered his pride, squaring his shoulders and rising to his feet. ‘If you go so far as to offend my mother, the fate that I have in mind for you now will pale by comparison. You are a fool, and you are meddling in matters beyond your understanding.’

‘A very pretty speech,’ Guantes said. ‘I’d be proud of it myself. But allow me to point out that
you
are currently in chains, in prison, and far away from anyone who could possibly help you. Also, nobody knows where you are.’

‘A temporary situation,’ Kai retorted as he tried to ignore the hollow uncertainty in his belly. ‘My friends will come for me. My uncle will find me.’

‘Not here,’ Guantes said, with a certainty that conveyed absolute truth. ‘This sphere is deep in the chaos zones. Even if your uncle could find you, he neither could nor would come here, even to save your life. It would be an act of open war. Actually, the fact that you are here yourself could be construed as a provocation. The King of the Eastern Ocean’s youngest son, deep in the heart of our territory.’

Anger and fear fought with Kai’s urge to roll his eyes. ‘
You
kidnapped
me
.’

‘Yes, that’s true. I’d just have to make sure you were incapable of incriminating me …’ Again he shook his head. ‘I suppose I can always save it as a last resort, if the auction doesn’t go ahead on schedule.’

‘Auction?’ Kai asked. Part of him still didn’t accept that this could be happening.

‘Yes, at midnight tomorrow.’ Guantes glanced up at the window-openings in the wall high above. Thin, pale light shone through them, and it was impossible to determine the time of day. ‘You’re to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. Very elegant, don’t you think?’

‘I’m going to kill you,’ Kai swore again. Anger and pride were the only things he had left to give him strength. ‘And if I don’t, my friends will.’

‘But I’ve already told you,’ Guantes said mildly. ‘Dragons can’t reach you here. Even the Library won’t help you.’

‘You know about the Library?’

‘I know all the players in the game.’ Guantes turned and strolled towards the door. ‘And you, young prince, are in checkmate. Sleep well.’

The door closed behind him with a hollow boom, cutting off Kai’s last shouted defiance and leaving him alone in the cell.

Was it checkmate? Perhaps not. He had to believe there was still a chance, or he would despair. And if Guantes thought that the Library wouldn’t help, then he didn’t know Irene. She would still be in the game.

She had to be.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Just as Irene had expected, the scene upon arrival was mayhem, and very nearly bloody mayhem. She stumbled out of the Train onto a long swaying platform, which extended far into the dark lagoon. The Train rested upon steel tracks, but there was no indication as to what supported those tracks, or if anything did at all.

The crowd from Aunt Isra’s seminar conveniently surrounded Irene, and she took care to stay in the middle of it. Some elements were peeling off in an attempt to find their patrons or protectors, but others were holding their current position until the mob had thinned out. What with the servants, maids, piles of luggage, pet greyhounds and set of white Lipizzaner stallions, there was very little chance to see what was going on or to tell one group of visiting Fae from another. The platform was a riot of different costumes, almost all of them highly dramatic, and in the light of the high street lamps it looked like a fever dream: all colour, brightness and no logic or sanity at all. The Library brand on her back was a permanent low throb of painful warmth, like sunburn, constantly reminding her of its presence. But, from the outside, she was just one more anonymous person in the mob. And, thankfully, nobody looked twice at her.

Theoretically, since this was a high-chaos alternate, she could wander into the crowd and meet exactly the person that she needed to meet in order to rescue Kai and save the day. Stories formed easily here, and she would be just one more protagonist with a story to tell. On the other hand, she might wander into the crowd and be met by someone, such as Lady Guantes, who needed to meet her to continue their own story. And that could be catastrophic for Irene.

‘Hey.’ The woman in cowboy leathers poked Irene’s arm, taking her by surprise, and Irene suppressed a twitch of shock as she turned warily towards her.
They’ve caught me! No, wait, she just wants to ask me something.
‘Clarice, was it? My name’s Martha. Look, some of us are going to get a - what did they call them, Athanais? - a water-taxi from here, and find the higher-ups later. I don’t have to be with my lady until midnight, and I know where she’s lodging. Can you catch up with your higher-ups later? Where will they be?’

Irene thought back to the few comments Lord Silver had made. ‘He said the Gritti Palace,’ she said truthfully.
But it might be useful to have an excuse for wandering …
‘But he might change his mind. What can you do?’ She shrugged.

Martha nodded. Light-brown curls the same shade as her leathers foamed round her face and fell over her shoulders, and her skin was tanned to precisely a few shades paler. ‘I’ve had a few like that, yes. But something else: you were speaking to Aunt Isra in Arabic earlier, weren’t you? Are you good with languages - such as Italian?’ Her question was more than a little desperate.

For a moment Irene wanted to laugh hysterically. Of course, being Fae didn’t somehow make you omni-lingual, though Aunt Isra had suggested the very powerful ones could get round that. The junior Fae here, low-ranking pawns of her own presumed level, wouldn’t necessarily be linguists. ‘I do,’ she said. ‘Well enough to get by, at least …’

‘That’ll do. Hey, Athanais! Grab that boat!’ The woman seized Irene’s arm and began towing her through the mob towards the far side of the platform, where the waters lapped against it. Irene recognized some of the other students from the seminar there. ‘Clarice here can speak Italian!’

‘Oh, thank god for that,’ Athanais said. Irene suppressed a sigh of relief. They weren’t thinking twice about her, weren’t even considering enemies in their midst. A sudden burst of distant fireworks shone on his pale hair. ‘None of us here speak Italian at all. Look, talk to this ferryman: what we want is a good tavern—’

‘Bar,’ the woman in the business suit put in.

‘My dear, we
must
have a clothing shop first,’ a woman in a black bikini said, sitting at the edge of the platform, her legs dangling knee-deep in the water. ‘I’m called Zayanna, darling,’ she introduced herself to Irene. ‘I swear, had I been allowed to bring as much clothing as certain other people …’

Several small boats were floating on the far side of the platform. Some were gondolas, large enough to hold half a dozen, but others were slightly larger crafts with several oarsmen. The boatmen -
gondolieri?
- all wore black cloaks, domino masks, striped jumpers and tricorne hats, as if it was some sort of uniform.

‘Excuse me,’ Irene said, then switched to Italian. ‘Excuse me! Let me through, please.’ She edged up next to Athanais and quickly managed to negotiate a price for the six of them. Sterrington, the one in the business suit, was happy enough to pay, as long as she could have a receipt for it.

The idea of taking refuge in a tavern was sounding better and better by the second. She could use a stiff drink, and get her bearings and pick up local gossip before going back on the hunt for Kai. As long as the pack of seemingly friendly Fae didn’t turn on her. She finished agreeing the deal with the gondolier and shifted back to English. ‘Everyone aboard, ladies, gentlemen. We are getting out of here before someone high-ranking requisitions our craft for their pet elephant and we all have to swim to the bar.’

There were chuckles, and the others filed on board the narrow boat. The remaining student was introduced as Atrox Ferox - an Asian Fae in black leather and latex plating. He had a sleek gun holstered at his side and his face was chiselled and expressionless. Zayanna simply slipped into the water and swam up next to the boat, sliding an arm over the edge to hold on. Sterrington helped Irene on board before following her, and Athanais joined them.

The boatman stood to the rear, oar dramatically poised, and then the boat slid into motion, pushing away from the platform and heading across a lagoon into the city.

It was everything that a fairytale Venice
should
be, Irene decided cynically. The buildings were brick and marble, old and beautiful. They reared triumphant and agelessly out of the night fog, blazing with oil-lamps and coloured lights. Further in she could see other boats - smaller gondolas - darting around with lamps hanging at their prows, and there were distant sounds of music and laughter. Further away, someone screamed briefly and was silent.

‘Look,’ Sterrington murmured, pointing back towards the platform they had just left. An ebony coach had come to a stop at the head of the platform, pulled by four black horses. A servant was helping a woman into it, while other servants loaded her luggage. Even from this distance, Irene could recognize Lady Guantes.

‘Do you think we should have stayed and tried for an introduction?’ Athanais suggested. ‘There must have been a dozen ways we could have done her some small service—’

‘Invasive,’ Atrox Ferox snapped. It was the first thing Irene had heard him say. His voice was like his face, sharp and cold. ‘One does not force one’s attentions upon the dependant of a patron.’

The woman in the water lifted herself to rest on the side of the boat, propping herself on one elbow. ‘That would be “force one’s company” rather than “force one’s attentions”.’

‘Your correction is appreciated, Zayanna,’ Atrox Ferox said sourly. ‘One does not force one’s company upon the dependant of a patron without that patron’s permission. The sequel of a casual meeting would be more appropriate when it is arrangeable.’

As she tried to unscramble his meaning, Irene found herself wondering if dragons had language issues as well. Was there a draconic language which they all spoke? And if so, could she learn it?

‘A penny for your thoughts, Clarice,’ Martha said.

Irene looked for something innocent to say. ‘I was surprised that so many of us don’t have immediate assignments. Could it be that our patrons were more concerned with the size of their retinues than with us being genuinely useful?’

Athanais, Martha and Zayanna laughed. Sterrington’s mouth twitched at the corners. Atrox Ferox stared, unspeaking, into the darkness.

Irene shrugged. ‘I suppose some things are the same everywhere.’ She was very aware that every attempt at interaction was a risk. But if she was going to get information out of them, then someone had to start the conversational ball rolling.

‘Oh, look!’ Zayanna pulled herself up on the side of the boat again and pointed towards the shore they were approaching.

‘Yes,’ Sterrington said calmly, ‘the buildings are extremely impressive.’