The Invisible Library (The Invisible Library Novel)

by Genevieve Cogman

  Among equals, the back of her mind supplied, with the unwillingness that came with the recognition of an unwanted truth. You are discussing a common interest without worrying about betrayal or about losing them, and you are enjoying it. How long is it since you did that?

  She looked around at her party’s various interested expressions and felt as if she had known them for years. It was ridiculous, and yet . . . it wasn’t unwelcome.

  The traffic outside had descended from merely bad to abominable, and their cab’s progress had slowed to a walking pace, with occasional jolts at the traffic lights.

  “There isn’t any risk of us being overtaken, is there?” Irene asked nervously.

  “Very unlikely, madam,” Singh answered. “For that, they would need to know where we’re going, and there are far too many places where we could be going for them to be certain.”

  “There is one thing that I’ve been wondering about,” Kai said. “While I know that you have difference engines and calculating mechanisms, I have yet to see any sort of long-distance communication device. Now I—” He became conscious of Irene’s glare. “That is, hasn’t that sort of thing been investigated?”

  Vale sighed. “Another of your alternate-world advanced pieces of technology, Mr. Strongrock? There has indeed been some research into the subject, but it proved simply too prone to demonic possession. While there have been a few successes with various forms of theologically based shieldings, on the whole the area cannot be said to reward investigation. Certainly it would be unsafe to put such things in the hands of the masses.”

  “But how do zeppelin pilots communicate with the ground?” Irene asked.

  Vale sniffed, and Singh looked disgusted. “Fae magic,” Vale said. “Another reason why Liechtenstein has so heavy an influence on the zeppelin industry. I believe they also make some machinery for submersibles, but of course the large quantity of iron reduces the magic’s efficiency.”

  Irene nodded and wished that some of this had been in the information pack Dominic Aubrey had provided. He’d completely neglected the subject: there had been plenty of material on the current non-Fae situation, but hardly any on the Fae themselves, their political implications, and their ongoing plans for world domination—since Fae always had plans for world domination. (It was more dramatic that way, after all.) Possibly he’d thought that she would be able to avoid Fae interference—though, given Wyndham’s involvement with Silver, that would scarcely have been possible. Could someone have managed to remove part of the information pack? And if so, how and when?

  She also wished that she was sitting on Kai’s side of the cab so that she could kick his ankle without it being obvious. Discussions along the lines of So why haven’t you introduced this bit of technology in your alternate world? rarely went well. Often there were perfectly good reasons why it hadn’t been introduced, and you opened a whole can of worms by just asking. And on the few occasions when it simply hadn’t been invented and you had indeed introduced the alternate to a whole new concept, you could end up with problems like cold fusion. (Not that she’d been involved in that one, but stories had got round.)

  The cab jolted to a stop, and the driver leaned down to the opening. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m afraid as how traffic’s very bad today, it’ll be another ten minutes before I could reach the steps of the museum—though you can see its wall there. If it won’t be inconveniencing you, sir, yourself and your friends might be finding it easier to walk from here.”

  “Certainly,” Vale exclaimed, flinging the cab-door open. He glanced up to the driver. “Wait here. We shouldn’t be long. Here.” He tossed a coin up to the driver. There was a keen energy driving his movements as they neared possible action. “For your time.”

  Kai assisted Irene out of the cab, giving a little extra squeeze to her wrist as he helped her down the step.

  “Almost there,” he murmured.

  Bradamant coughed meaningfully. With an apologetic look, Kai let go of Irene and turned to help Bradamant down as well.

  The streets were full of traffic, moving slowly with a lot of shouting, and the air was full of smog. Irene folded her veil up across her face and stepped over to the museum wall to let people hurry past. The others joined her, waiting for Singh, who was talking to the driver. The wall was stained a deep filthy brown from decades of ingrained smoke and smog. The surrounding buildings were old brick and marble, similarly smog-stained. Many of the people bustling by were carrying books or briefcases. From what she remembered of the geography of some Londons, there was a university near here, sited conveniently near the museum.

  A passing zeppelin high above caught the corner of her eye, and she glanced upwards. Several small zeppelins were moored to the roof of the museum, with pennants hanging from them emblazoned with the museum’s name. As she looked farther down the street, she could see more of them moored to the roofs of other large buildings.

  “Ah,” Vale said, following her line of sight. “Splendid contraptions, aren’t they? And so much faster than a cab, but sadly not as controllable. One of those little skimmers can make it across the Channel and back without needing to refuel.”

  “Across the Channel?” Irene asked. “Does the museum use them for such trips, then?”

  Vale nodded. “They can transfer important small items and particular rarities. I understand that most large museums keep a few these days. And of course, much less risk of theft.” His narrow gaze shifted to Bradamant for a moment and brooded on her oblivious back. It seemed that he hadn’t forgiven or forgotten any little details about cat burglars.

  “If you are from an alternate world yourself,” Vale said, turning back to her, “what is it like?”

  Irene noticed that Kai had edged close enough to listen. The problem was that she didn’t have a good answer. “It was . . . well, it was just another world. The technology was a little more controlled than it is here. There weren’t so many zeppelins, and there weren’t any vampires or werewolves. My parents used to take me to the Library as often as they could, but I spent a lot of time in boarding-school. It was in Switzerland, and very good for languages.” She wasn’t going to mention some of the other things that they’d taught. The school had prided itself on sending out pupils who were ready for anything, and some parts of that world had been very dangerous.

  “I did visit other alternates with my parents too,” Irene added. “Sometimes when they were on a mission, and they didn’t think that it was too dangerous. Sometimes I was even helpful.” She found herself smiling. “And there were years in the Library, though there weren’t many other children there. But I had to grow up mainly outside the Library.”

  “Why is that?” Vale asked. “Surely it would have been better for you to stay there and be tutored in safety, rather than taken into danger?”

  Irene knew she was on dangerous ground here. There were some things that she shouldn’t tell him. For his own safety. “Time passes differently in the Library,” she eventually said. “My parents wanted me to grow up naturally. Well, moderately naturally. And if I was to be a useful Librarian, I had to know how to function outside the place.”

  “Is that why they usually recruit from outside the Library, rather than the children of Librarians?” Kai asked.

  Irene nodded. “That, and . . . well, to be honest, I don’t think Librarians tend to have children very often, and even then there’s no guarantee they’d want to become Librarians in turn. I think I’m the only one in a generation or so.”

  She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. Bradamant was turning away, but not quite fast enough to hide the expression on her face. There had been a corrosive jealousy in her eyes. Irene didn’t think that she’d seen it in the other woman before . . . or had she? She’d tried to forget so many other things about Bradamant and failed so badly.

  Singh walked up to Vale, having finished his low-voiced conversation with th
e cab-driver. “I’ll send the cab back here for you, sir, once he’s dropped me off at the Old Bailey. It shouldn’t take you long to check whether the book’s here.”

  Irene controlled her impatience. It was a great relief to think that in half an hour she could even be heading back to the Library, book in hand, Kai in tow, Bradamant in . . . well, she didn’t consciously want to think about Bradamant in disgrace. After all, everyone had a failure now and again. Things like glamorous cat burglars. Whatever.

  Maybe an hour. She didn’t want to be too optimistic.

  Inside the museum, the building widened out into a glorious cathedral-like hall with a high curving ceiling inset with windows, and a mosaic-inlaid floor. A diplodocus skeleton leered down bonily from high above the heads of the onlookers, and some harassed-sounding mother implored her little darling not to try to climb on its foot. A white marble statue at the head of the room’s main stairway overlooked the whole thing with an air of dignified approval. It was about the only piece of non-smog-stained marble that Irene had seen in this alternate London.

  She supposed that it was interesting enough. But it was sadly lacking in books.

  Vale clearly knew his way around and led them up one of the staircases, through several minor rooms of exhibits, then past a wide range of stuffed animals, stuffed plants, and possibly stuffed mineral deposits (she didn’t have time to check). Next they hurried down another staircase and into an even more cluttered and confused set of corridors, which was clearly where work actually got done. Crates were stacked against the walls, many with notes attached saying OPEN THIS TODAY. The only things that weren’t dirty or dusty were the office doors’ brass nameplates. These gleamed with a rather desperate shine, as if trying to compensate for their surroundings.

  “Here we are,” Vale said, pausing before one that apparently belonged to Professor Amelia Betony, MSc, PhD, and Doctor of Divinity. “This was the person to whom the crate was addressed. Let’s see if we can eliminate this possibility.” He shoved the door open without bothering to knock.

  Inside, the low-ceilinged office was larger than expected. The small desk in the corner was piled high with unopened envelopes and packages, and the large table in the middle of the room was strewn with bones, glue-pots, and measuring devices. The air smelt of dust and drying solvent. Then a young man entered from a side-door, a steaming mug of tea in his hand. He stood there, blinking at the four of them.

  “Mr. Ramsbottom, I presume?” Vale said, stepping forward briskly. “Professor Betony’s secretary?”

  The young man nodded and peered at Vale, and his eyes widened in recognition. “Ah, I’m so terribly sorry, but the professor is away on the Egypt expedition, if you were wanting to consult her over a case—”

  “Fortunately, I believe that you will suffice, Mr. Ramsbottom,” Vale said. “We are here to look into the matter of a parcel that may have gone astray.”

  Ramsbottom glanced guiltily at the stacks of incoming mail on the corner desk.

  “We are looking for a crate from Lord Wyndham,” Vale said. To his side, Irene could see Kai tense with excitement, watching Ramsbottom with a glare of anticipation that was probably unnerving the nervous-looking fellow. “It would have been delivered about five days ago.”

  Was it really that short a time since Wyndham’s death, since Irene and Kai had arrived here? It felt so much longer, Irene thought.

  “Ah,” Ramsbottom said, sidling towards the desk. He abandoned his mug and selected a ledger. “Actually, I think I do remember that one.”

  “You do?” Vale asked.

  Ramsbottom nodded. “There were particular instructions enclosed with it. Please, um, gentlemen, ladies, Professor Betony will no doubt answer everything with full dispatch as soon as she returns.” He glanced guiltily at the pile of post again. “But she does have a very specific dislike of anyone else reading her post, and when she left, she told me that unless a letter or package specifically said that it should be opened . . .”

  “The crate, man!” Vale snapped, striding forward. “What happened to it?”

  “Ah, ahem.” Ramsbottom twitched at his collar. “The accompanying note stipulated that if Professor Betony did not return to open it within three days of its receipt, then her assigned subordinate, which is myself, was to open it and take all necessary actions with the contents.”

  Irene swallowed. To one side, she could see Bradamant going white. To her other side, she could hear the hoarseness in Kai’s breathing. This must have been some sort of last gambit by Wyndham, in case he wasn’t able to collect his prized book . . . In expectation of his murder?! As just one more step in whatever relationship he’d had with Silver? As a deliberate ploy against Silver getting his hands on the book, or to hide it from someone else?

  “The package contained an archaeopteryx skeleton,” Ramsbottom went on, more nervous by the second, “and another parcel, to be forwarded elsewhere—” He stuttered to an anxious stop.

  “And where would that be?” Vale prompted.

  Ramsbottom hesitated. “This is a matter of confidentiality, Mr. Vale, and while I do know your connections with the police, I, ah, that is . . .” He trailed off, apparently unable to utter the words I’m not going to tell you.

  “Mr. Ramsbottom.” Vale stepped forward. “Naturally I will not press the matter. But I would be grateful if you could reassure me that there will be no difficulty in tracing the package, should such a thing prove necessary.”

  “Of course!” Ramsbottom exclaimed, looking deeply relieved. He tapped a small blue ledger. “I have full details here of where the package went.”

  Then the door in the opposite side of the room slammed open, and Silver strode through, followed by his bland-looking manservant and half a dozen hairy men in cheap suits and bad hats. “At last!” he declaimed, pointing dramatically. “I have you now, my dear enemy!”

  He was pointing at Bradamant.

  CHAPTER 17

  “What?” Bradamant said, then quickly converted it to, “But, ah, how did you find us so quickly?”

  Silver laughed merrily. His hair, loose over his shoulders, tossed in a wind that somehow blew around him and ruffled his clothing but failed to stir a single hair on the louche, bearded thugs who crowded in behind him and leered at the room in general. Their clothing was as dirty and unkempt as Silver’s was elegant and stylish, and they all had eyebrows that met in the middle.

  “Hah!” Silver preened. He pointed his cane at the unfortunate Ramsbottom, who was trying to retreat into a corner. Any corner. “You! Hand over the book at once, and your rewards will be beyond your imagination!”

  “Careful, Silver,” Vale said. His grip on his sword-stick was no longer quite as casual as it had been a few seconds earlier. “You wouldn’t want to have any witnesses to illegal actions on your part, would you?”

  “Illegal actions?” Silver turned to his manservant. “Johnson! Have I committed any illegal actions?”

  Johnson checked his watch. “Not within the last three minutes, sir.”

  Silver turned back to Vale. “There you have it. Rest assured that I am not at the moment committing any illegal actions. I am merely promising this hireling here that if he hands over the book I am looking for, then he will receive rewards beyond his wildest imaginings.”

  “Well, if there’s nothing illegal in it . . . ,” Ramsbottom said vaguely. His eyes followed Silver dreamily, watching his every gesture, his every breath. Irene remembered the glamour that Silver had tried to lay on her, back in Wyndham’s study.

  “My dear sir,” Bradamant said, with a nerve that Irene wasn’t quite sure she’d have managed to muster, “you still have not explained how you managed to track us here.” She stepped to her left, forcing Silver to take his attention off Ramsbottom if he wanted to keep his eyes on her.

  Silver waved a hand vaguely. “The simplest of matters. I subcontracted. Knowin
g that I could not track an agent of the Library—ah, you fooled me once, but not again!—I approached the elder Miss Olga Retrograde.”

  Irene and Bradamant exchanged quick shocked looks. It was one thing to think that Silver might be aware of the Library—many Fae and dragons were, after all, just as the Library was aware of them—but to have him say it so baldly and in front of witnesses was rather worrying, in that it suggested there would shortly be no witnesses. And how had Silver known, in any case? What had he seen? How much did he know about the Library?

  Vale, meanwhile, looked outraged. “You dealt with her?”

  “Merely a matter of convenience,” Silver said airily. “Normally she is far too sordid for me to do more than invite her to my parties. I don’t suppose you would care to comment on that, would you, my dear private detective? From a, shall we say, family perspective?”

  Vale looked even more furious, if that were possible. “I have nothing that I would wish to say about her,” he spat.

  “Then allow me to clarify,” Silver said with great satisfaction. “Her scrying attempts proved useless until you left your lodgings this morning. She caught the directions given to the cab-driver. From then it was simply a matter of reaching this museum first and having my minions here locate your destination.” He smiled at the hirsute thugs.

  “We know Mr. Vale’s smell,” one of them growled, his tongue coming unsettlingly far out of his mouth as he panted. “We all know Mr. Vale’s smell. There’s a lot of us want to have a nice quiet little chat with Mr. Vale down some dark alley sometime.”

  “There, there,” Silver said. “I’m sure you’ll get your chance someday very soon now—if Mr. Vale doesn’t advise his Library associate to comply with my requests.” He smiled at Bradamant dazzlingly. Irene felt a little of the overspill of it, the burning surge of slavish desire and passionate adoration, and felt the brand across her back burn like raw ice in reaction. She also felt a quick burst of relief that apparently Silver hadn’t recognized her as a Library agent. She was still incognito for the moment.