‘I always keep my word,’ Mr Nemo answered, ‘but you’re going to have to allow me a minute or two, while one of my staff retrieves something from storage.’
An uneasy silence settled over the room. On the screen, Mr Nemo sipped his whiskey. Indigo watched Kai and Irene, as motionless as a painting herself, but with a glint in her eyes that promised violence. She seemed poised on a hair-trigger, ready to snap if Mr Nemo’s reassurances proved worthless. Ernst – and all the guards scattered around the room – stood and waited, with the stance of soldiers who were well used to waiting.
Irene considered. If Kai’s plan did work, and Mr Nemo was retrieving her promised book too, it might snatch success from the jaws of failure. However, Indigo didn’t seem too concerned about this reversal of fortunes – or was that just a refusal to show fear? Should Irene be more worried about the fact that Indigo wasn’t worried?
Their mission had changed. Now she had to not only save a world for the Library, but also rescue hundreds or even thousands of worlds from a dragon civilization at war with itself. If this gambit failed, she couldn’t rely on Tina fulfilling her mission in time. There was one other card that Irene could play, but if she did . . .
Just as she was beginning to seriously consider flooding the entire base, the doors opened behind them. One guard was carrying a heavy briefcase, while two more dragged a beaten-looking Felix between them, and a fourth carried a large sack.
It was an utterly stereotypical burglar’s sack. Irene couldn’t even imagine where Felix had procured it. But it was bulging full, and she had to admire how far he’d managed to get in the time he’d had.
‘Allow me to kill two birds with one stone,’ Mr Nemo said, looking more cheerful than he had for a while. ‘Prince Kai, I have your payment here. And I have Miss Winters’ prize as well. I’m not sure exactly how Felix here knew to take it, but he found it. As well as a few other highly valuable items.’
Felix shrugged, dangling between the two guards. ‘I have my ways. Perhaps you mentioned it, or perhaps you weren’t as discreet as you’d thought.’ Battered, bloodied and captured as he was, there was still a smirk to his voice. Even if he was temporarily inconvenienced, it was all part of his master thief role. Perhaps, Irene reflected, being caught and dragged in front of the authorities was an essential part of it.
But she was too distracted by the thought of her own prize to spend time analysing Fae narrative tropes. If the book was in that bag, then salvation for the world she cared about was five yards away from her. The world was a haven in her mind, the only place – other than the Library – where she’d ever felt truly safe. She was so close she could almost taste success.
‘Did you intend to sell the book to Irene, before we caught you?’ Mr Nemo asked. ‘Or simply keep it so she couldn’t have it?’
It was as though masks flickered across Felix’s face – Ambitious Thief, Practical Thief, Callous Thief – and were discarded again without any of them solidifying into reality. ‘I’m still thinking about it,’ he answered.
‘Well, your thinking time has run out.’ Mr Nemo turned back to Kai. ‘Here’s your payment, prince. I hope we can now consider the matter settled.’ His words had an air of formality to them.
The guard with the heavy briefcase flipped it open, offering the contents to Kai. Inside, on a thick lining of black velvet, lay a heavy silver collar linked by chains to a pair of cuffs. Unlike Indigo’s fake cuff, this reeked of power. The metal glistened as fluidly as frozen mercury, but as Irene looked closer she thought that carved traceries of words swam beneath the surface.
Kai flinched before he could catch himself. ‘Those things are your payment?’
‘I promised you the means to keep Princess Qing Qing prisoner. I didn’t promise you any more than that.’ Mr Nemo put his glass down, a smile of pure satisfaction curling across his face. It was as sincere as Felix’s earlier self-fulfilment. Both Fae were utterly satisfied with how well they embodied their archetypes. The non-Fae present were merely convenient secondary actors to them, only valuable because they provided feed lines or situations allowing the Fae to take centre stage.
‘But . . .’ Kai looked between the restraints and Indigo.
‘Catching her is your problem,’ Mr Nemo said. ‘Not mine. I believe the phrase is, Who will bell the cat?’
Indigo seemed unimpressed. ‘Very nice. I admit it. Now can we throw these hangers-on out of here? We have other matters to arrange.’
‘Of course,’ said Mr Nemo. ‘And here’s Irene’s reward – The Tale of the Shipwrecked Sailor. Enjoy it, my dear. I think that concludes our business?’
Irene took a deep breath. She felt Kai tense at her side, uncertain of what she had in mind but ready to back her.
‘No,’ she said, her voice echoing in the room. ‘It doesn’t. I’ve changed my mind about my choice of prize.’ Her stomach churned with despair at the thought of what she was giving up, and the risks she was taking with others’ lives. But if she didn’t do this, more than one world was at stake . . . Though that world was so precious to her, the collapse of the draconic status quo would cause shockwaves across the cosmos, and a war that could last a thousand years. This was her last chance to resolve that mess. ‘For my payment, Mr Nemo . . . I want the painting.’
Irene had rarely managed to reduce a room to quite such stunned silence. (Well, there had been the occasion with the robot impersonator and the levitating corgis, but that silence hadn’t lasted long. There had been corgis involved, after all.)
Indigo was the first to recover. ‘Out of the question,’ she said.
But in Mr Nemo’s hastily concealed shock and the momentary trembling of his hand, Irene saw hope and possibility like big neon signs. This had seemed almost too ridiculous to work. But technically this was a permissible request. There was nothing in the deal about not changing one’s mind, and she hadn’t actually been handed her prize yet. And when dealing with Fae promises, technicalities were the very soul of the deal.
‘Possibly we’ve misheard Miss Winters.’ Irene didn’t miss his attempt to curry favour with the polite form of her name. And the smile working its way across his face tried and failed to convey geniality. It was the sort of generous grin that went with classic pictures of Father Christmas, and it was grossly out of place in this context. ‘You wanted a very specific edition of The Tale of the Shipwrecked Sailor? I made some enquiries, and the world in question has been shifting towards chaos, has it not? I know how you Librarians are about that kind of thing. Naturally I would be pleased to assist you . . .’
Irene took a step forward. ‘Let me be precise,’ she said firmly. ‘I request and require that you give me a specific item from your collection – the canvas which I helped steal from Vienna yesterday. The hidden canvas which shows the dragon monarchs. That is the item I choose. I want it now, and I want to leave with it now – as agreed by you, “without delay or endangerment”.’
Mr Nemo looked as if he had swallowed one of his catfish. ‘Are you quite certain?’
‘Absolutely,’ Irene replied.
‘You do realize that if you make this request, I’ll have absolutely no incentive to give you the book that you’re interested in? The book which I’ve discovered is one of a kind.’ Steel entered his voice. ‘In fact, I can promise you that it will not be sold or traded to the Library under any circumstances.’
Irene didn’t need to close her eyes to see memories of the world where she’d spent six years at school – a world that she’d loved. To be perfectly honest, she had hated it occasionally too, but it had made her who she was in her most formative years, nurturing her just as much as her parents had. She’d never needed to go back there: it had been enough to know that it was safe, a private refuge in her mind, whenever she’d needed one. Now, because of an even greater battle for power, it might be lost in the flow of chaos. Its inhabitants would become nothing more than background characters for visiting Fae to use in their narratives, or perhaps they would
be twisted into Fae themselves. Archetypes rather than human beings, stories rather than real people – as unable to change as Mr Nemo was now unable to break his word.
I’m sorry, she thought. I’ll try to find another way. There has to be another way.
She wouldn’t let herself think about what would happen if there wasn’t.
‘I’m quite certain,’ she said. But the steadiness in her voice required all her training. And she wouldn’t let herself look at the sack of stolen goods in front of Felix.
‘You can’t be seriously considering letting her have it,’ Indigo said.
Mr Nemo looked pale and in pain, his face twisting under the pressure of his vows. ‘I don’t have a choice.’
‘You can do better than this,’ Indigo urged him. ‘Behaving this way is illogical. It’s no better than being an animal. Or a human. You’re not like my parents – you’re capable of thinking round the situation, finding some other way of handling it. Don’t let one single human spoil everything – just because she’s playing with the letter of your promise to her.’
Beside her, Irene felt Kai stiffen at the comparison of his father to a Fae. Any Fae. But he had the sense to keep his mouth shut.
‘I’m not surrendering,’ Mr Nemo muttered, his face ashen. He took a harsh gulping breath, like a drowning man seizing a chance at oxygen. ‘I can’t refuse her request, now that she’s made it. I would be breaking my word if I take action against her myself, or order any of my servants or allies to take action . . .’
Indigo blinked, her eyelids flickering like a serpent’s. Then she moved, sliding through the air like a knife. She grabbed a gun from the nearest guard’s holster, levelled it at Irene, and fired.
It was Kai’s superhuman speed that saved her, rather than her own reflexes. He slammed sideways into her, and the two of them rolled across the floor. In the pinwheel of violent motion, Irene caught sight of the guards raising their guns, uncertain whom they should be shooting.
There was very little cover in the room – just the big conference table, the flimsy chairs surrounding it – and nowhere to hide. A bullet clipped Kai’s arm, drawing blood, and he gasped in pain.
But Irene was ready this time. ‘Guns, jam!’ she shouted.
Indigo’s gun clicked. She cursed and threw it to one side.
Kai rose to his feet. ‘If you want Irene, sister, you’re going to have to go through me.’
‘As you wish.’ Indigo stalked towards them like a thundercloud. Even if she and Kai couldn’t take their dragon forms due to the local chaos, there was something inhuman about the way they faced off. Looking at their faces, Irene could see their resemblance: their father’s likeness was unmistakeably stamped on both of them.
Physically, at least. Mentally? That was another question.
Indigo leapt onto the conference table, seemingly without effort, lunging towards them. Kai sprang onto the table to meet her, ripping through the air. She swung into a kick, foot heading for his chin, but he caught it on his crossed arms, throwing her backwards. She flipped, landing on her feet, and struck at him again, but he blocked – their motions speeding into a blur, becoming as fluid as a well-practised demonstration, rather than a lethal fight.
Irene backed away, safely out of reach. She was no expert on martial arts. However, Indigo’s pattern of movement was clearly aggressive, while Kai was focusing on holding her back. How could she use the Language to help him, without it backfiring on him?
‘Miss Winters.’ Mr Nemo sounded as if he was strangling on his own unfulfilled promise, but he was still breathing. Unfortunately. ‘I will regard . . .’ He coughed, hands clenching. ‘Regard any attempt to attack my men or damage my property as opening hostilities between us. And I will take any necessary . . . countermeasures.’
In other words, he’ll feel free to have me killed out of hand.
‘And you, Ernst . . .’
‘I am not your servant,’ Ernst grunted. His body language screamed a heartfelt desire to be somewhere else. ‘If you give me orders, then that would make me your servant, and you break your bond.’
Mr Nemo gave a choking snort. ‘Your boss is my friend . . . Ask yourself what he’d want you to do.’ He sagged over the table, hands going to his temples, like a man trying to ward off a stroke by force of will.
Indigo dropped to sweep a wide kick at Kai’s ankles, hair floating out in a fan behind her. He leapt, leg coming down towards her throat in an axe kick. But she blocked it, catching his foot mid-air and twisting, sending him rolling across the table. He pivoted and sprang at her as she came to her feet. The two of them closed briefly to deliver a sequence of short harsh blows before circling each other like predators.
There was a spatter of blood on the table, from Kai’s wounded arm.
Ernst reached into his pocket, then pressed something small into each ear. Irene realized with a sudden sinking feeling that he was using earplugs. That greatly reduced what she could achieve with the Language. And he made his choice clear, however reluctant it might have been, when he slung a chair at her – knowing she was bound not to destroy Mr Nemo’s property.
Irene dived sideways, past a couple of the guards. They stood still, awaiting orders, the guns in their hands almost an open invitation to be grabbed and used. Felix watched the room with narrowed eyes, waiting for a convenient moment to act. I suppose in his personal narrative as master thief, this is where most of the secondary characters get into a conveniently distracting brawl, allowing him to make his escape . . .
But as far as Irene was concerned, she was the protagonist here. She wriggled out of Kai’s jacket, balled it in her hands, and tossed it at Ernst as she backed away, shouting, ‘Suit jacket, wrap around Ernst’s head and smother him!’
The garment obeyed, giving Ernst a headdress worthy of any haute couture model. His great hands rose to get a grip on the fabric, and he simply tore it away, ripping the seams apart as he pulled it from his face.
Indigo flowed through a set of movements that ended with her slamming her bare hand into Kai’s chest. He jolted back, whole body shuddering for breath, and barely managed to parry her follow-up stroke to his throat.
‘Wasting time,’ Ernst commented as he tossed away the jacket’s remains.
Irene didn’t bother answering. He wouldn’t have heard it. She’d got what she wanted: she was close enough to the briefcase containing Kai’s prize. Before the guard holding it could react, she grabbed the case and plucked out the shackles.
‘You can’t do that!’ Mr Nemo shouted.
They were heavy in her hands, as solid and weighty as if made from pure silver. But the metal seemed to squirm as she touched it, as though there was something in her flesh which it found antithetical to its purpose. She controlled her instinctive repulsion, took a deep breath, and flung them through the air at Indigo, grateful that she knew the dragon’s true name. ‘Shackles, bind Qing Qing!’
Indigo heard the words. Her eyes gleamed red as she flung herself towards Kai and knocked him into the path of the chains. But Kai converted his motion into a backwards tumble and ducked underneath them as they rippled through the air. The collar and twin cuffs clamped round Indigo’s neck and wrists.
She shrieked. The sound rose up through the normal octaves, and beyond an opera soprano’s highest C. Many of the guards winced, raising their hands to their ears; a crack split Mr Nemo’s television screen. And even on screen, his bottle and glass both splintered. Indigo’s back arched and she fell to her knees, writhing in pain, her chained hands clawing at the collar around her throat. Gradually her motions slowed, her eyes glazing over.
Irene and Kai had both covered their ears at Indigo’s scream, Kai falling back a cautious few steps to the edge of the table. Irene thought she could see shock in his expression; was it the memory of the time that he himself had been a Fae captive, bound and shackled? Or was it simply the sight of any dragon so reduced?
And then Ernst rushed forward with a quickness that belied h
is weight. His hand locked around Kai’s ankle and he yanked, slamming Kai down onto the table in an ungainly bellyflop. While Kai struggled to catch his breath, Ernst grabbed his wrist, twisting it behind the dragon’s back. He locked his free arm around Kai’s throat, restraining him with an impossible strength.
Silence filled the room. Even Felix was still, too transfixed by the drama taking place in front of him to seize the moment to escape. ‘Now,’ Ernst said. ‘You surrender, Irene? Please? I do not want to have to snap dragon boy’s neck.’
‘If you kill Kai, his family will destroy you!’ Irene said desperately. Then she remembered that Ernst had his ears blocked.
The twitch of his shoulders showed that he had at least noticed her mouth moving. ‘You know I cannot hear you. Raise your hands to show you give up. And no big sentences in the Language. I do not trust them.’
Kai struggled for breath. His eyes were furious; he wouldn’t beg for mercy. But he knew how real his peril was. Here in a high-chaos location, away from water, he couldn’t call on his element, couldn’t take his true form . . . he was trapped like a human – and could die like one. But if she surrendered, could Mr Nemo interpret this as her giving up the painting too?
A couple of thoughts formed, like a bridge across an ocean of desperation. The Language was powerful in high-chaos areas. What Kai couldn’t do for himself, Irene might make him accomplish. If, that is, the presence of two dragons had forced just enough order into the area. She’d done it once before elsewhere, in another world and with other dragons . . .
‘Decision,’ Ernst said. His arm tightened round Kai’s neck. ‘Now.’
Irene slowly began to raise her hands as if she was complying with his order. But the Language wasn’t about accepting reality. It was about changing reality. ‘Kai,’ she ordered, ‘take your true form!’
Light burned through the room as Kai shifted and changed in Ernst’s grasp. The Fae tried to maintain his grip, but the archetype for that sort of fairy story – where a protagonist held on as their prey switched between lion, swan, serpent, whatever – wasn’t strong enough here. With a shudder and a flex of his sapphire-scaled wings, Kai tossed Ernst to the ground. He uncoiled and the table collapsed under his weight as he threw his body across it, eyes burning. His great horned and bearded head turned to inspect the room. And for a moment there was nothing sentient in his eyes.
The Secret Chapter Page 26