‘But I did,’ Irene insisted. ‘Did want to, that is.’
Her mother sighed, stooping forward in her seat. ‘The way you grew up, could you have really wanted anything else?’
Irene looked for words that would convince her. ‘You could say that to any child who admired their parents’ work. The answer would be the same. It’s not a bad thing to know that your parents do important work. It’s perfectly valid to use that, when you’re deciding what to do with your life.’
‘Because you’ve been brainwashed from childhood into believing it’s the most important thing you could possibly do?’
‘Now you’re the one who’s deliberately choosing emotive words.’ Irene leaned forward. ‘Mother, please, hear me out. If there’s something I’ve learned over the last few years, it’s that everything people do is important. I happen to have chosen this particular thing to do with my life, and I was lucky enough to have the choice. Because of you. Do you understand? Never say that you forced me into this. You didn’t. I chose it, and because of what you and Father taught me, I chose it with full knowledge and consent.’ She tried to remember where that phrasing came from, and then it hit her: the Catholic definition of mortal sin. Oh well. ‘You’re welcome to beat yourself up about things like searching my rooms – but please, please don’t feel guilty about me choosing to be a Librarian.’
‘In a single year, you have put yourself in more danger than your father and I managed in a dozen. I didn’t want a child just so she could get herself killed!’ For a moment her mother’s careful composure slipped, and Irene saw the naked fear in her face.
Irene took her mother’s hands in hers. They felt . . . fragile. ‘Mother,’ she said softly. ‘I think all parents have this problem. Whether they’re Librarians or not. And all children. I want you to be safe, too. But we can’t lock each other away in a tower somewhere. That would be a new take on an old fairytale, wouldn’t it? The princess locks her parents in a tower . . .’
Her mother bit her lip. ‘You’re trying to distract me.’
‘I think it’s reflexive. I’m used to avoiding this sort of thing.’
‘I know. You never tell me anything.’
‘Well, you always want to know everything,’ Irene started, then stopped herself before the complaint could assume its habitual shape.
‘We taught you not to depend on technology or magic, but to rely on yourself and what you know. We have this belief that knowledge can keep us safe. That knowledge leads to control.’ Her mother’s hands tightened on Irene’s. ‘And we believe it for the people we love, too . . . But don’t make the same mistakes that we have, Irene.’ Her mouth quirked in a smile. ‘Make some new ones.’
The momentary door that had opened between them was closing again. Yet Irene was content with that. They’d both said enough. It was something they were both going to have to come to terms with in the long run – that neither of them could keep each other safe – and it wasn’t going to be resolved by one conversation. Still, it was really important to her that her mother had actually said it.
Her mother let go of Irene’s hands and looked at her computer. ‘What are you working on? That looks like Middle Egyptian hieroglyphs. Your father would be pleased to know you’re studying them.’
‘Unfortunately I’ve forgotten the little I ever knew,’ Irene admitted. Her father had always been disappointed that Irene had never been interested in that area. ‘This is a section from the text I brought back, The Tale of the Shipwrecked Sailor. It’s from a bit where the mystical serpent ruling the island talks about his past. I had to hand in the text, of course. But I checked first to find out which bit diverged from other versions and scanned it to study later.’ She shrugged. ‘I was curious, but I overestimated my powers of translation.’
‘Would you like me to ask your father to have a look?’ her mother offered. ‘He’d probably be interested himself, and he can send you a translation when it’s done.’
‘That would be marvellous,’ Irene said warmly. ‘Thank you. I’ll email you the scan.’
‘Why are you curious about it?’
‘It’s from the world where you sent me to boarding school. I’m not sure what grabbed me about this. Maybe it’s because I’ve never come across any unique books from there before.’ Perhaps it was because of all the trouble she’d gone through to get the text. It would be nice to have some sort of personal reward – even if it was only a new story.
Although to a Librarian, no new story was ever only a new story. It was always worthwhile.
‘Well, I’ll pester him till he gets it done.’ Her mother rose, shaking out her skirts. ‘Take care of yourself, Irene. Remember that I worry.’
Irene had a lump in her throat, and she swallowed. ‘You can still call me Ray,’ she said. ‘I won’t mind.’
Her mother smiled. ‘You will mind, but I appreciate the thought. Give our regards to Prince Kai. Get back to him before he starts worrying.’
‘Life was much easier before I had to worry about everyone else worrying,’ Irene muttered.
‘It’s called growing up, dear. It comes with staying alive.’
Kai was brooding over his own pot of coffee when she returned, sprawled in his favourite armchair by the fire. He greeted her with an absent-minded nod.
She settled into the chair opposite. ‘Which of our many problems are you thinking about?’ she asked.
‘I could just be thinking,’ he said archly. ‘Planning for the future. Considering diplomatic issues.’
‘If you were, then you’d be drinking tea. You only drink coffee when we’re eating out – or when you’re upset.’ She waited. ‘Am I wrong?’
‘Not wrong. Just not completely right. I’m not upset, I’m . . .’ He looked for the right words. ‘Conducting some self-examination.’
‘Do you want to tell me about it?’
Kai sagged gratefully. ‘It would make my mind easier. I know I’m not your apprentice these days, Irene, but you’ve got more experience than I have. And better judgement.’
‘I dropped us into that mess because I didn’t take your word about how dangerous Indigo was,’ Irene pointed out. ‘My judgement’s hardly that reliable. Perhaps your uncle could help.’
‘I’ve been speaking to him too. He dropped by earlier.’
‘Oh.’ Irene had thought that might happen. Ao Shun would have wanted a more detailed account of events; she didn’t think he’d have been pleased. ‘Ah . . . how did it go?’ It couldn’t have been that bad – Kai was still here, after all, and so was London . . .
Kai stared at the fire rather than at Irene. ‘He agreed we had no way of knowing that the painting was an item of personal value to him – and the other monarchs. He didn’t blame us. He thought that we’d done well to force Mr Nemo to sign the truce. But – he was amused.’ Now the note of bitterness in Kai’s voice truly became clear. It was the tone of a child – no, a teenager – who’d been through self-perceived hell and back, only to be patted on the head by an adult and told that the whole thing hadn’t been that important. ‘He thought we’d been playing around. He said how charming you looked in a bikini. He—’
‘He was lying,’ Irene said flatly.
Kai stiffened. ‘Do not say that about my lord uncle,’ he commanded.
Irene tried to think how to explain herself, in a way Kai wouldn’t automatically reject. ‘I meant he’d have been lying for political reasons,’ she said. ‘Not personal ones.’
That drained a little of Kai’s anger. ‘Explain?’
‘Kai, consider his actions – rather than what he said after the fact. Based on a message from me about the painting, brought via a Fae, your uncle dropped everything and came immediately to investigate. He was ready to level the place if we hadn’t managed to resolve things . . . just five minutes earlier. Does that sound to you as if he thought it was unimportant and amusing?’
‘No,’ Kai admitted slowly. He frowned, thinking it through. ‘Then it was that importan
t. And that dangerous.’
Irene thought of her own parents, and knowledge, and control. ‘Perhaps your uncle believed that the best way to protect you was to keep you ignorant of how important it was.’
‘What was on the painting?’ Kai asked. ‘You know I never got to see it.’
Irene could have said Are you sure you want to know? But that would have been putting off the inevitable. They both knew that he really did. ‘It was a bit like The Raft of the Medusa,’ she said, ‘but not quite. It was a raft, on the ocean, but the figures on it were all the dragon monarchs – your father, your uncles and another man I didn’t recognize, but who looked like family – also Ya Yu and three other women. They were all in human form, but quite recognizable. They were escaping from, well, other dragons.’
Kai was very still. ‘My lord father and the other monarchs have always ruled. It is said that they are the true source of stories of heavenly dragon kings, in some countries. Why would anyone claim differently? Or paint a picture that suggested otherwise?’
The truly significant question lay between them like an unexploded grenade, with neither of them willing to touch it. Why should a picture like that be so important – to Ao Shun, to everyone – if there wasn’t an element of truth to it?
Irene took a deep breath. ‘The job’s over. If your uncle would rather you forget about it, then that might be the safest thing for you to do.’ She saw the mutinous glint in Kai’s eyes at the word safest, and hastily revised her suggestion. ‘It might be what he would like you to do.’
‘Both of those things might indeed be true,’ Kai agreed. ‘But that doesn’t mean I’ll agree to just leave it.’
‘That’s between you and him,’ Irene temporized. It wasn’t her problem, and she couldn’t give him ethical advice. She wasn’t even sure that she had any for herself.
‘Though one point comes to mind . . .’
‘Yes?’
‘You do look charming in a bikini.’
Irene snorted. ‘I don’t consider that relevant here.’
Kai relaxed, and his mouth twitched into a smile. ‘Maybe I need a rest from work-related thoughts. There’s something I’ve been wondering.’
‘What’s that?’
‘A minor question that’s been nagging at me. If your parents left you at boarding school, what sort of cover identity did they have on that world? Travelling book collectors? Diplomats? Scientists?’
Irene felt her cheeks flush. ‘You have to promise not to tell anyone.’
‘Oh, interesting.’ Kai leaned forward. ‘Spies? Adventurers? Mysterious masked men and women of mystery?’
Irene took a deep breath. ‘Actually . . . missionaries.’
Kai was silent for a moment. Then he began to laugh.
‘It was a perfectly valid cover by local standards!’ Irene protested. ‘It got me into the school with no questions asked . . . Memorizing a lot of Bible verses was good mental training!’
Kai just looked at her. ‘Missionaries.’
The doorbell rang.
‘Your sins shall not be forgiven,’ Irene muttered. She rose. ‘Try to get yourself under control before I bring anyone in here.’
There was a minor delegation on her doorstep. Lord Silver. Sterrington. Vale, too – and their detective friend was looking surprisingly cheerful. If the Fae had dragged him along for their own purposes, she’d expect him to be irritated. The only thing she could think of which would put him in a good mood would be an interesting murder investigation. Oh no, not another one . . .
‘You might as well let us in, Miss Winters,’ Silver said cheerfully. He was fully awake – as it was four in the afternoon – and dressed to kill, or at least to party. ‘We have good news!’
With some reluctance Irene allowed them all to enter. ‘Is anyone dead?’ she asked nervously.
‘No,’ Sterrington said, shrugging off her cape and passing it to Irene. ‘Should they be?’
‘Generally speaking, I find people much more entertaining alive,’ Silver noted. He added his cloak and hat to the growing pile in Irene’s arms. ‘Do we have somewhere to talk? I was being quite serious. I think you’ll like what we have to say. Your princeling should be there as well.’
‘Right this way,’ Irene said, redistributing her bundle onto the hat stand.
The looming presence of Fae had brought Kai back to his usual mannered self. ‘How may we be of assistance?’ he asked, falling into a diplomatic role as everyone took seats.
Silver waved a hand at Sterrington. ‘Would you like to start?’
‘No, no – be my guest,’ Sterrington said. She looked . . . pleased, Irene decided. As if she’d come out the better in a bargain. Paranoia raised flags in Irene’s mind and threw up fortifications.
Silver opened proceedings. ‘You may be aware that there’s been some minor argument among my kind, about which of us should take the third role in our little treaty triumvirate.’
‘We could hardly have missed it,’ Irene said drily. ‘In fact, I raised the point vigorously with you just a few days ago.’ This sounded like a prepared speech on Silver’s part – and one for an audience. Was that why Vale had been brought here?
‘I don’t think you appreciate quite how difficult my position has been, my little mouse. Of course, both of the main groups involved had perfectly reasonable points of view.’ Silver glanced sideways at Sterrington, then continued. ‘Having – reluctantly – found myself leading one group, I personally didn’t want the role that you two have so virtuously accepted. But at the same time, a seat on the treaty committee carries weight. The person who holds it will have . . . influence.’
‘And nobody wants to give up influence,’ Sterrington agreed. ‘Fortunately, we have been able to find a solution which satisfies all parties.’
‘All Fae parties?’ Kai asked.
‘Well, naturally,’ Silver drawled. ‘Though I don’t think you’ll be too upset with the result. Madame Sterrington, would you like to explain?’
‘I wouldn’t want to interrupt your flow,’ Sterrington said.
Vale snorted. ‘I, on the other hand, am absolutely delighted to interrupt Lord Silver. They have an offer for you, Winters, Strongrock – though I admit it depends particularly on Winters accepting it.’
‘How did you get dragged into this?’ Irene asked curiously.
‘I believe I’m here as a witness.’ Vale shrugged. ‘And you know I like to know what’s going on. Since I have no cases at the moment, I thought I’d make myself useful.’
Silver’s expression had been souring at the interjection, but he leapt into the conversational gap before Vale could get any further. ‘Kindly ignore the detective. My – no, our – offer is this. Sterrington here will take the Fae chair on our treaty liaison group. Her patron the Cardinal’s agreed to it. But at the same time . . .’ He smiled. It was, as usual, a mortal sin. ‘Miss Winters here will take my niece as her apprentice.’
There was a pause as Irene turned the idea over in her head. Unfortunately, her mental process kept on coming up with the same conclusion. ‘Your niece is, I assume, Fae like yourself?’ she queried.
‘Well, of course,’ Silver said smugly.
‘And you want her to be my apprentice?’
‘Exactly. I’m glad to see you’re so quick to grasp the essentials.’ Silver tilted his head, and Irene felt his regard like an intimate touch against her skin. ‘I can imagine one point that’s troubling you. I assure you that she’s nothing like me, my dear little mouse. She’s far less interested in the flesh. And far more interested in books. And much younger.’
It made sense, politically speaking. Both Silver’s and Sterrington’s factions gained something from the deal, though Silver’s investment might be more long term. Yet Irene could see one major problem. ‘I don’t want to shoot down this compromise out of hand,’ she said, ‘but Fae can’t enter the Library.’
Silver waved a lazy gloved hand. ‘Oh, I’m not expecting miracles. At least, not imm
ediate miracles. I’m prepared to give you time to work on it. Months. Years. But I do expect you to try. Just because it hasn’t been done previously, doesn’t mean it can’t be done.’
‘He has a point,’ Kai put in unhelpfully.
Irene turned to him. ‘What do you think of this?’ After all, he didn’t like Sterrington – could he manage to work with her?
‘I think it might work,’ Kai said slowly. ‘I believe Madame Sterrington here is willing and able to cooperate with us.’ Sterrington inclined her head gracefully. ‘And let’s be honest – not having a Fae on the liaison team is a serious problem. If Lord Silver’s niece is genuinely willing to commit to the Library, rather than being a pawn in his service . . .’
‘Once you get to know her, you’ll see she’s far more loyal to anything she can read, than to her family,’ Silver said. ‘And having her as an apprentice and living with you would be helpful – blocking insinuations that any Librarians had inappropriately close attachments to dragons.’ His gaze strayed from Irene to Kai. ‘Of course, if I had chosen to take a position as a liaison, I suppose we could have managed something suitably bipartisan. Or rather tripartisan – and thoroughly inclusive . . .’ He was now looking suggestively at them both.
Irene could almost feel Kai stiffen in his chair with rage. ‘Lord Silver,’ she said mildly, ‘you’re not helping your case.’ She needed a moment to think. ‘Madame Sterrington, you’d be happy with this arrangement?’
‘Entirely so,’ Sterrington said crisply. ‘I wouldn’t share accommodations with you two, but I would take lodgings nearby. I’d support weekly meetings to discuss current issues, unless there are matters of more urgency. General sharing of information. I believe we can make this work. I would like to make this work.’
Now the onus was on Irene. She’d demanded an answer from Silver and Sterrington – and she’d got one. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘I am prepared to accept this deal. With one caveat.’
‘Which is?’ Silver asked.
‘My superiors have to agree.’
Silver nodded. ‘I expect you to do your best to get that approval. I’ll accept those terms, and hope we won’t need to renegotiate.’
The Secret Chapter Page 28