Irene smiled. This part had always warmed her somewhere deep inside. She leaned forward in turn, putting her cup down. “Mr. Vale, while all the alternate worlds exist, and while they may have different metaphysical laws, their physical laws are the same. Iron is iron, radium is radium, gunpowder is gunpowder, and if you drop an object, it will fall according to the law of gravity. Scientific discoveries are the same across the alternates, and while they are no doubt important, we don’t value them as we do creative work. There may be a hundred brothers Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm in a hundred different worlds, and each time they may have written a different set of fairy tales. That’s where our interest lies.”
Vale blinked. “But in that case, you could import the discoveries from other worlds! You could bring more than simply fiction—new technologies, new wonders of science. Have you no concept of the good you could do for these”—he remembered himself—“hypothetical alternate worlds?”
“Wouldn’t work,” Kai said, staring at his tea.
“What my colleague is trying to say,” Irene said patiently, “is that, while it has been tried, firstly, the Library does not care to make itself public. Secondly, we cannot introduce material for which there is no support infrastructure. This is what would happen if we tried to bring in discoveries that your current science didn’t support, and as a result the discovery wouldn’t take root. It would probably be written off as a fake in short order. Also, please consider. What would be the dangers facing a person attempting to introduce entirely new scientific knowledge to this world? To this country?”
Vale nodded slowly, his expression bitter. “I take your point,” he said. He didn’t sound convinced, though.
“And lastly,” Irene said, a little embarrassed that she had to point it out, “all of us who are sealed to the Library are people who have chosen this way of life because we love books. None of us wanted to save worlds. I mean, not that we object to saving worlds . . .” She shrugged, picking up her teacup again. “We want books. We love books. We live with books. Someone who joined the Library just so that they could try to use the Library to benefit their own world . . . well, I suppose it would be ethical, but it isn’t the purpose of the Library.”
“Then what is the purpose of the Library?” Vale asked.
“To save books,” Irene said firmly. The words were so automatic that she didn’t even need to think about them. She’d spent all her life with the idea. But the words had never sounded hollow to her before. She made herself focus on the familiar justification. “To save created works. In time, if their original alternate loses them, we can give them back copies, so that they aren’t lost. And in the meantime, the Library exists and endures.”
“So why did Alberich leave?” Vale asked.
Irene swallowed. She hadn’t expected him to get to that point quite that fast. The little that she knew about Alberich was bad enough that she had been happy to write him off as a myth. She didn’t really want to think of him as a real person with potentially terrifying motivations. Then she blinked. “Wait. How did you know that?”
Vale waved a hand dismissively. “Simple enough. The fellow is clearly a deserter from your own organization. Given what I know about it from you, his possible motives are either personal advantage, or he has overarching principles that conflict with your own stated mission—which is to save books and not interfere in the workings of other worlds. But if it were a question of personal advantage, why bother to hunt down and assassinate other Librarians? If he wanted more fame or adventure, presumably other Librarians wouldn’t get in his way, as long as he didn’t obstruct your searches for specific books. And what specific book would be that important to him, if he were pursuing personal gain? So perhaps he has a larger plan, one that requires your non-interference. This would require him to be motivated by personal power or have some goal which he believes is more important than your Library’s search for books. Your own response confirms this—why else would Library agents feel such a sense of dread towards a mere rogue agent?”
Irene reminded herself bitterly not to underestimate Vale again. She also ignored Kai, who was twiddling his fingers in his lap with an air of smug unconcern. Fine. I suppose I should be glad his mood’s improving. “Alberich left the Library a while ago,” she said reluctantly. “I lack the clearance for full information on why.” Or any information beyond the bare minimum.
“So—this Alberich is a continual threat. Has he crossed your path before?”
Irene shook her head. “No. Thank heavens. I had heard about him, of course; everyone hears about him—”
“Even I’d heard about him,” Kai put in, not very helpfully.
“Kai is my junior,” Irene said before Vale could ask for clarification of that statement. “And I know that the idea of an evil rogue Librarian must sound like some kind of rumour. The sort of rumour which gets passed down through the years to frighten the novices. But there were stories about things happening to people one actually knew.”
“Things?” Vale asked.
“People dying,” Irene said bluntly. “With pieces of them being sent back.”
Kai started. “Was that why Dominic—,” he began, then stopped a fraction too late.
“I don’t know,” Irene said. She turned to Vale again. “What Kai is trying to say is that the Librarian who was supposed to be stationed locally, in this alternate world, has apparently been killed and mutilated. We found out just before I triggered the trap I mentioned—a trap set using chaos forces. These—forces—are something that Alberich uses.” She couldn’t keep the distaste out of her voice.
Vale nodded. “So chaos . . . Is that what we would term ‘magic’?”
Irene tried to think how to explain it. She’d been planning to side-step this part as much as possible, given Vale’s apparent dislike of magic. “Not exactly. According to our cosmological model”—there, that was tactful and avoided saying, This is how things really work—“there are lawful and chaotic forces active in all worlds. Sometimes they take on a physical form, appearing as entities—or personifications of law or disorder if you like. The lawful forces support reason and natural laws. The chaotic forces support impossibility and things that are blatantly irrational or disorderly. For example, dragons are lawful forces and the Fae support chaos. Fact versus fiction, if you like.”
Vale stiffened like a hound catching the scent. “So Lord Silver is a supporter of chaos itself?”
Irene nodded. “This alternate is strongly affected by chaos. Silver is certainly at least one of the lesser Fae, who are usually confined inside a single alternate. I don’t know if he is one of the greater ones, but I sincerely hope not. Such creatures even have the power to move between worlds. But they have nothing to do with the Library.” She wanted to make this extremely clear. “We do not associate with them.”
“Except when obtaining party invitations,” Vale said drily.
“I want that book,” Irene said flatly. “So does he, it seems. And so does Alberich. I need to know who has it. If Silver or Alberich already had it, they wouldn’t be looking for it. Once I have it, Mr. Strongrock and I will be out of this alternate and won’t need to bother you again.”
Vale nodded. “Very well.” Again there was the feeling of a confrontation being postponed until he had sufficient ammunition. Perhaps he wanted to bring her to justice as well. Or perhaps he simply wanted to visit the Library. “So, tell me,” he went on, “when was the Librarian stationed here murdered, where, and how?”
Irene glanced at Kai. “Well, it must have been somewhere between yesterday afternoon and this morning, because we first met him yesterday afternoon when we came through from the Library proper. The entrance is in the British Library,” she added, a little reluctantly.
“Really,” Vale said thoughtfully.
“And when we came back this morning to speak with him . . .” Irene trailed off, wishing she did
n’t have to go into the next bit. “Ah, we have reason to assume that he was dead by that point, possibly for several hours.”
“Why?” Vale demanded. “You found his body?”
“We found his skin,” Irene said. “In a jar of vinegar.”
Kai reached across and touched her wrist. She knew that it was inappropriate for her to show weakness, but she found the gesture comforting.
Vale sat back in his chair. “I see,” he said. “That must have been a great shock for you, Miss Winters.”
Irene remembered the pungent smell. Her stomach twisted. “Yes,” she said. “It was. I am sorry, I’m afraid I find it difficult to be as detached as I should be.” He’d been friendly, helpful, kind, just simply nice . . .
“And you are quite sure that it was your contact?” Vale prompted.
Irene nodded reluctantly. She hadn’t wanted to admit this bit if she could have avoided it. “All Librarians have a mark on their body,” she said. “It looks like a tattoo done in black ink. It cannot be removed.”
Vale was quite clearly considering asking whether he could see hers, but after a moment’s hesitation he nodded. Possibly the fact that she hadn’t offered to show it was hint enough. “And—if I may be frank—would the trap that had been set possibly have killed you?”
Irene had been trying to avoid thinking about it. She had plenty of productive ways to occupy her mind besides yet one more way in which she had almost died in the last couple of days. “Yes,” she said. “If Mr. Strongrock had not broken my link to it, it might well have done. It would certainly have incapacitated me and left me helpless. And . . .” She frowned, her mind sensing something important. “Let me think. Alberich would have known I would touch the door, not Mr. Strongrock, because only I can access the Library. Even if I survived, he’d know the chaos contamination would prevent me accessing the Library. He’d also be aware that the contamination would only last for a few days.”
Vale nodded. A spark kindled in his eyes. “That seems logical,” he said with more warmth than he had shown at any point previously. “Let us theorize that your Alberich—”
“Hardly my Alberich,” Irene snapped.
Vale snorted. “Alberich, then. Let us theorize that he expected to have completed his plans in a few days, at which point it would no longer matter if you contacted the Library. As he was still around earlier tonight, with our murder in mind, those plans can’t be completed yet. Especially as he was still trying to get us, or rather you, out of the way.”
“That seems plausible,” Kai said, emerging from his moody self-absorption. “But, if he doesn’t have the book, and we don’t have the book, and Bradamant doesn’t have the book, and Silver doesn’t have the book—and if the Iron Brotherhood is responsible for the alligators, so still on the offensive, then they don’t have the book . . .” He shrugged. “Who does have the book?”
“I dislike dismissing possible culprits without firm evidence,” Vale murmured. “But I see little reason why the Iron Brotherhood would be interested in a book of fairy tales. They tend more towards technological paradigms. Now, had it been one of the lost notebooks of Leonardo da Vinci, that would be entirely different. Come to think of it . . .” He levelled a stare at Irene. “Why would your Alberich want to steal a book of fairy tales? Out of spite?”
“Maybe there’s something unusual about this particular copy of the book,” Kai offered. “Possibly there’s something hidden in the binding, or a coded message . . .”
Irene shook her head. “I don’t think so. The reason I think the Library wants it is because it might contain something which other versions of Grimms’ Fairy Tales in other alternates don’t. That is, a new story, or several new stories. There would be no point in collecting it if it were just the same as the ones in other worlds. But if Alberich wants it? I don’t even know what Alberich wants.” She became aware that she was starting to whine, and she made herself concentrate. “It can’t be because there’s a significant connection between the book and this alternate. It’s not individual enough for that. There are too many other versions of Grimm out there. That sort of connection requires a very specific book with relevance to that alternate.” Her hand twinged, and she rubbed it nervously, then tried to stop herself before she could make it any worse. Bradamant certainly wouldn’t approve of what she was about to say. And her mentor, Coppelia, would undoubtedly have forbidden her to voice her suspicions.
But Coppelia couldn’t have foreseen any of this. Could she?
“Sometimes information about the Library gets out,” she said slowly. “Not just in conversations like this. Librarians are observed, or they talk too much, or maybe the Fae are involved. It’s not exactly something that I’ve been tutored in.” She paused to translate her thoughts into a theory that would also make sense to Vale. “And often when this does happen, this information ends up being recorded in works of—well, fiction.”
Kai blinked, eyelids flickering, without moving. “I’ve heard as much.”
And that confirmed his nature for her. Trainees did not get told about this. Ever. Only Librarians fully sealed to the Library got even the most basic of briefings about it. Irene herself was a full Librarian, albeit a junior one, and even she had only had a few hints about it. If Kai had “heard as much,” then it had been from other dragons, not from Librarians.
“Indeed,” she said, keeping her voice even. “And if there is some secret pertaining to the Library in this book, then that might explain why Alberich is so eager to get his hands on it. Silver, too. Some Fae know about the Library and have an interest in it. If Silver believes that the book holds some secret—if only because other people are trying to get their hands on it—that would make it irresistible to someone like him.”
Kai frowned. “But if it’s such a big secret, why send—um, forgive me for this, Irene—but why send someone who’s just a journeyman Librarian after it? Why not send in an expert? Several experts?”
“That could actually be construed as support for Miss Winters’s theory,” Vale said thoughtfully. “In order not to attract Alberich’s attention, your superiors could have chosen to send someone who had no idea of the book’s importance. Someone who would not be seen as an obvious choice for important missions.”
Irene decided that this was not the time to have a hissy fit or make pointed comments about her status in the Library. Especially as Vale was right. “But unfortunately Alberich found out about it anyhow,” Irene continued the hypothesis. “And, come to think of it, that would explain Bradamant. One of the senior Librarians might have thought I wouldn’t be up to the task and decided to send her in.” With an effort, she added, “She does have more experience than I do, after all.”
And then there was Kai. Apparently just an apprentice, but in fact a dragon. Well, probably a dragon. She needed to have a private talk with him. They simply hadn’t had a chance since the river incident. If Coppelia had known that, then assigning him to the mission was far more significant backup than it had originally seemed.
Vale nodded. “So if your associate Bradamant—another code-name, I take it?”
Irene nodded. “We all have them.” It was simpler than trying to explain the whole Librarianly choice of names to him.
“Very well. Your associate Bradamant arrived here before you did and created an identity as the thief Belphegor. An intelligent piece of work. She must have planned to conceal her theft of this specific book among the thefts of other books. A needle in a haystack, as the saying goes. Do you suppose she would be prepared to return the other ones?”
Irene thought about it. Vale’s theory made a great deal of sense and was a step ahead of where she’d managed to get to. (She’d always wondered, or even daydreamed, what it was like to actually work with great detectives, rather than just read about them. It was more annoying than she’d expected.) The odds were that Bradamant had kept the books—after all, if her
private mission had been successful, then she could have donated them to the Library as well. “I can ask her,” she offered. “The current mission is definitely more important than these other books.”
“But it’s our mission!” Kai put in.
Irene sighed. It was well past midnight. It had been a very full day. She was tired to the bone. “Look, Kai. At the moment, the most important thing is keeping that book out of Alberich’s hands. If he wants it, then it’s paramount that he doesn’t get it. And the second most important thing is getting it to the Library. I admit it’s not going to look good on my record if I fail. But when it comes down to it, I don’t care if I bring it in, or you bring it in, or if Bradamant brings it in and takes the credit and ends up spending the next ten years rubbing my nose in it. And if that means promising her the book in exchange for handing back the other books to Vale, then I will do it.”
“That’s very noble,” Kai said dubiously, “but it doesn’t solve our original problem. Where is the book?”
“I believe that is something we can discover when Madame Bradamant is here to be questioned,” Vale said briskly. “She agreed to come and see you tomorrow, I think? And if Singh does not release her, then we can go and question her in prison.”
Irene nodded. She was about to continue, when Vale held up his hand. “One thing more. When you made that reference to ‘significant connections’ and ‘books specific to an alternate’—would you mind expanding on that?”
Damn him. Irene had been hoping to skate past that without going into further detail. Belatedly, she decided that she should never have mentioned that bit in the first place. Stupid of her. “Some books have a significant connection to the alternate that they come from,” she said reluctantly. “They help anchor the Library to that alternate. It’s not a bad thing in itself. The Library’s a stabilizing force, so it even helps ward off chaos influences like Fae.”
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