The Invisible Library

by Cogman, Genevieve

  Bradamant nodded, and turned back to Inspector Singh. ‘I am at your disposal, sir,’ she said.

  ‘Perhaps we might also consider leaving,’ Vale suggested. ‘Unless you want to discuss matters further with Lord Silver, Miss Winters?’

  Irene thought about having to explain things to Silver. Having to explain anything to Silver. ‘What an excellent idea,’ she agreed enthusiastically. ‘Kai, unless you can think of anything that we’ve left undone, this might be a good moment to leave.’

  Kai wiped his sword with an unstained bit of tablecloth, and put it down on the table. ‘I am entirely at your disposal,’ he said. ‘Where are we going?’

  Then Irene remembered that they didn’t have hotel rooms. Wonderful. One more thing to sort out.

  Her dismay must have shown on her face, and Vale stepped in, almost smiling. ‘Allow me to offer you the hospitality of my rooms for the night, Miss Winters. I have a couple of spare bedrooms – and what’s more, it will allow your friend and Inspector Singh to find you in the morning.’

  Inspector Singh nodded, and Irene revised her opinion of his relationship with Vale by a few notches. Clearly the two men were used to working together. She’d have to bear that in mind.

  She tried to remember exactly where India stood in the history of this alternate. It had become an independent trade partner of Great Britain rather than a colony (not due to any particular lack of imperialism on Britain’s part, sadly) and the two Empires still maintained close ties. That’d explain Singh’s accent.

  Kai stepped forward and offered Irene his arm. She took it, suddenly conscious of her weariness, and of the confusion around her. The air was heavy with the smell of blood. Human bodies littered the floor together with alligator corpses – mauled limbs, bloody torsos, screaming faces. Some men and women were still sobbing in corners. Others were filing out of the room, talking to the policemen, or simply drinking. Only a few of the tables were still upright; others had been battered down or had collapsed under the weight of people crowding onto them. The lovely floor was scarred by claws and gunshots, and soaked with blood.

  There was so much blood.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Kai said softly.

  There might have been a time when Irene would have said, No, I’m not, and shut her eyes for just a few minutes. But it was not now, and definitely not in front of Bradamant. She swallowed, and tried not to breathe the air more than she could help. ‘I will manage,’ she said curtly. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Your cloak, Miss Winters,’ Vale said, draping it over her shoulders. She must have been dangerously distracted, as he’d retrieved it without her noticing. She made a note to be more careful, and filed it along with all the other notes to be more precise, more attentive, less squeamish, and less inclined to curl up and cry on someone’s shoulder.

  Inspector Singh clicked his heels together, half-bowed, and turned away with Bradamant, staying a very precise half-foot away from her. Bradamant didn’t look back as she followed him.

  Outside, on the steps of the Liechtenstein Embassy, there was a mob of photographers, reporters and interested parties. Street vendors were even selling roasted chestnuts, doughnuts and candied peanuts. Their fragrance blended with the taint of Irene’s bloodstained dress, and she had to struggle not to be sick.

  ‘Did you see the elder Miss Retrograde leave?’ Kai asked.

  Irene shook her head. ‘I saw her alive at the end, but didn’t see her go. I suppose she may be useful. If she knows something.’

  Vale came to a sharp halt, looking down at her. ‘The elder Miss Retrograde? Miss Olga Retrograde?’

  ‘That was the lady in question,’ Irene said. ‘Is there something that we should know about her, sir?’

  ‘Only that she’s the biggest society blackmailer in London,’ Vale said. ‘The lady is extremely well known for knowing things. The unfortunate thing is that what she knows is rarely advantageous to anyone except herself. As to your acquaintance with her . . .’

  ‘It was the first time we’d met,’ Irene said hastily. The curl of Vale’s lip made his opinion of the lady extremely clear. ‘She realized that we weren’t Canadians.’

  Vale snorted, and turned away to signal a cab.

  ‘Do you think we’ll have a problem?’ Kai murmured.

  ‘We’re probably the least likely people in that room to have a problem with her,’ Irene answered, equally quietly. ‘After all, what can she blackmail us with?’

  Kai laughed. ‘True.’

  ‘Over here!’ Vale called. One of the swarming cabs had answered his uplifted hand. They had to elbow their way to it through the edges of the crowd, avoiding reporters with notebooks and cameras. Vale drew the shade across the window as they set off.

  ‘Do you expect us to be watched?’ Irene asked.

  ‘It seems likely, Miss Winters,’ Vale answered. ‘In my own defence, I will say that I am not unknown to the criminal section of London – nor them to me. But since I have not attempted to hide my identity, we may as well return to my lodgings directly.’

  Irene nodded, settling back into her seat. The passenger compartment of the cab had two wide leather-covered benches facing each other. Its basic structure was similar to that of a classical hansom carriage, but it was electric-powered rather than horse-drawn, and built of metal rather than wood. She’d been in hansoms before now, and it was strange to be in something so close to one without hearing the sound of hoofbeats.

  ‘About your friend,’ Vale said, leaning forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. The cab jolted as it turned a corner. ‘Do you think Silver’s accusations regarding her identity are correct?’

  Irene would have liked to meet his eyes and unflinchingly deny it, but she honestly didn’t think it would work. She wondered how much Vale might have deduced about Bradamant, simply from their brief meeting. It was the sort of thing that she would expect him to do. ‘I wish that I knew myself,’ she finally said. ‘I hadn’t thought that she’d been in London,’ or in this alternate, ‘long enough to have done such a thing. And I can’t think why she’d do it!’

  ‘It is a common enough technique,’ Vale said austerely, ‘to establish a pattern of thefts in order to conceal a single one. If she was planning to steal that book, then she could also have been the perpetrator of those early thefts to camouflage its significance.’

  Irene considered that idea. It sounded uncomfortably plausible. ‘But why would Bradamant have needed to hide the theft?’ she said out loud. After all, Bradamant herself could have just left the alternate immediately after stealing the book. But did she want the book for herself, or was she seeking it for the Library? She was here without authorization . . . Irene’s blood went cold. Could Bradamant have turned traitor to the Library?

  Kai was only a step behind her. ‘But if she was trying to hide her theft from us as well as the authorities—’ he began.

  Vale frowned. He raised a hand to interrupt Kai. ‘A moment, please, Mr Strongrock. Driver!’ He hammered with the head of his cane on the roof of the carriage. ‘Driver! Why are we going this way?’

  Irene pulled back the window shade. She couldn’t recognize the buildings going past outside, but they were clearly on a main street. ‘I think we’re going faster,’ she began, then yelped in shock as chaotic power flared across the window. She managed to snatch her fingers back just in time before it could touch them. Across the carriage, Kai flinched back from the window on his side, bumping into Vale.

  ‘Driver!’ Vale shouted. ‘What is going on?’

  The cab jolted as it speeded up again. ‘The name is Alberich,’ a voice called from above, audible over the rattling of the wheels and the creaking of the carriage. ‘I suggest you ask your friends what that means, Mr Vale.’

  Irene was conscious that she’d probably gone pale, but she was too busy trying not to shake with sheer terror to spend much time bothering about it. She couldn’t handle this – she couldn’t – her hand was still infected – this was Alberich, the
Alberich, the one who had been cast out of the Library, there was no way she could handle this . . .

  ‘Brace, Miss Winters,’ Vale instructed Kai, then kicked out at the door with a coiled strength that should have burst it open.

  It didn’t. The door stayed firmly in position, and the walls of the cab flexed with it as if it was a continuous part of the cab’s structure. Vale recoiled into his seat, thrown back by his own force, and bit back a muffled oath.

  ‘I’m afraid you Librarians have become an inconvenience,’ the voice called down. Male, Irene noted with the part of her brain that was capable of doing something other than shudder and try to hide. No discernible accent. Precise. Something about the rhythm of it was vaguely familiar, as though she’d heard someone else speak in the same way. ‘I require that book for my own collection. A pity to lose you as well, Mr Vale, but I draw the line at stopping the cab to let you out.’

  Someone in the street ahead of them screamed as they dived out of the way of the speeding cab.

  ‘I think not,’ Vale said coldly. He spun his cane in his hands, and smashed the silver head against the window.

  The glass took the blow without breaking or even splintering.

  ‘He’s sealed the cab.’ Irene forced the words out, nearly shouting against the banging and clattering of the wheels on cobblestones. ‘Chaos magic – he’s somehow bound it into a coherent whole, so nothing can get in or out – you’d have to break the whole thing to break part of it.’

  ‘Quite accurate,’ the voice said. ‘Though it’s not airtight – or watertight. A logical paradox which I’m afraid you won’t have the time to appreciate.’

  ‘The river,’ Kai said, barely audibly, and the same knowledge was in Vale’s eyes.

  Irene’s thoughts ran round inside her head. There must be something I can do – even if the Language isn’t working reliably for me, could I use it enough to save us? But the cab itself is chaos-contaminated and Alberich too, so maybe it would cancel out any Library powers anyway . . .

  ‘Adieu,’ Alberich said. The cab rocked again, and speeded up in one last rush towards the river.

  ‘Together!’ Vale shouted. ‘Enough weight and we can force it over – ’ He threw himself against the side of the cab, and a moment later Irene and Kai joined him, struggling together in the confined space. The cab tilted, regained balance, tilted again –

  ‘Yes!’ Kai exulted.

  – and the cab went over into the river.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The carriage did not sink elegantly into the water like a dying swan: it hit the surface of the river with a rattling crash that threw Irene into Kai, and Kai into Vale, and Vale into the wall of the carriage.

  Force equals mass times acceleration, Irene thought dizzily. She should be thinking of a way out of this, but her thoughts cowered like frightened rabbits. She didn’t want to think.

  The carriage tumbled as it began to sink, rolling over as the river tugged at it. The three of them automatically grabbed handles and benches, wedging themselves into corners until the vehicle came to a jolting stop on its side. Black Thames water covered the windows, not entirely cutting off all light, but making it only barely possible for the three of them to see each other.

  ‘The usual protocol in these cases is to wait until we are fully submerged, then open a window to equalize the water pressure, and swim up to the surface,’ Vale stated. Irene could hear the sheer control in his voice, over the creaking of the carriage and the slow trickling sound of water. ‘But if that person has sealed the carriage, given that I could not break the window earlier, this tactic would be ineffective.’

  Right. She had to explain to Vale about Alberich. She owed him an explanation about a great many things now. But what was the point, if they were just going to die – well, it did remove the need for justifications. Yet there were other ways of dodging that sort of thing, and she was avoiding the subject again. And the water was pressing down, and they were all going to die . . .

  He doesn’t just want us dead. He wants us dying in fear, in the dark, and slowly. This isn’t just wanting to get us out of the way, so he can work undisturbed. It’s malice, pure and simple.

  She had been afraid. She had been so very afraid that she’d been cringing in the corner, unwilling to speak, let alone act. But now something else woke in her.

  I will not tolerate this.

  ‘Then we’re just going to have to find a way to break it,’ Irene said. She forced herself to lean forward. ‘What one man can do another can undo.’ Saying the words made them possible, gave her strength.

  ‘But you can’t touch his magic!’ Kai said. ‘When it infected you before it nearly killed you!’

  She wished that she had time to think this through calmly, to plan, to consider. ‘Wait,’ she said, pulling the glove off her damaged hand and pointing her fingers at the window. ‘I’ve got an idea.’

  ‘Would you care to explain?’ Vale invited tensely.

  ‘I was attacked by the same forces he used earlier,’ Irene said. She could feel the cold water soaking into her slippers and stockings, curling up around her ankles. ‘If I can identify them and expel them, it should break the binding, and we can swim out of here.’

  ‘Very good.’ Vale eased himself further back in his seat. Perhaps it was only the dim light that made Irene think that he was trying to position himself as far away from her as possible. She’d sort things out later. She’d explain things later. Right now she just had to make sure there would be a later.

  Irene held her fingers a fraction of an inch away from the window and focused – away from the water, the darkness, the two men in the carriage with her, and into a world where language structured reality.

  It was a fact that Alberich controlled and used chaotic forces. The chaotic forces must therefore be discrete and identifiable. But she had no words in the Language for these forces, and she could only control what she could name or describe.

  However, she could name and describe herself.

  It wasn’t a thing that the Librarians did very often. Oh, certainly if you had a broken left arm you could try saying, ‘My left tibia is in fact not fractured but perfectly whole.’ But while your tibia might obey, your muscles would still be torn and any wound would still be open. Unless you could name every single thing that required naming, you would probably end up with a partly healed wound that would be more trouble than letting it heal in the normal way. While some Librarians went in for that level of detail, and were very sought-after, Irene was not one of them.

  But a person, especially a Librarian, could be named and described holistically as a single entity. She bore the Library’s mark on her flesh, and her name was in the Language. If she could enforce that strongly enough, deliberately enough, there would be no space for the chaos forces inside her. Without that to contend with, she could finally access her full powers as a Librarian.

  This was not something she’d ever tried. Then again, she’d never been infested to this degree before. Only imminent death would force her to play with dangerous, untested, theoretical techniques, otherwise maybe she’d have thought of this earlier.

  Her life was far too full of learning experiences.

  Before she could lose her nerve, she shaped the words with her lips, barely audible, speaking in the Language. ‘I am Irene: I am a Librarian: I am a servant of the Library.’

  Her brand burned across her back as she enforced her will. But she felt curiously distanced from the pain, as though she could shrug it away and wish it gone. In a flash of insight, she realized that would be disastrous. What she felt in her was the conflict between self-definition and the contamination. She couldn’t afford to ignore it. She had to embrace it.

  But it hurt. She heard her breath catch, the sound strange in her ears.

  ‘Irene?’ Kai said, his voice concerned. It was too dark to see him now.

  With a racking surge, like vomit after eating spoiled food, the chaos power came jolting out of
her. She tried not to think of the buffet earlier that evening (salmon, mussels, crab, soup, little prawns in sauce) and failed. It spilled from her hand, boiling off her fingers in waves of shadow that rippled in the air – and like any living thing, it looked for shelter, for something like itself.

  It jumped for the window, arcing through the narrow span of air, and crackled into the glass. Irene had just enough time to wonder if she should jump away from the window, when it broke.

  Not just the window.

  The whole carriage came apart. First the window, splintering into shards of glass, then sections of the carriage were toppling away from each other like a badly glued model. She barely had time to feel the splinters of glass in her arm before the water came in like a hammerblow. And, surprisingly clearly in the near-darkness, she saw Kai’s face looking strangely decisive. His mouth was moving, he was saying something –

  She had several seconds of thrashing panic before she realized that she could breathe.

  The three of them were drifting along together at the bottom of the river, enclosed in a long continuous coil of dark water. It was a flexing shifting visible current in the river, separate from the rest of the water. It even felt cleaner. The shattered remnants of the carriage were already invisible in the shifting mud of the bottom, some distance behind them. Above, through the surface of the water, streetlamps glimmered in hazy balls of white and orange. Kai floated a few paces ahead of herself and Vale, moving at the same pace as them. He was saying something, but the river water filled her ears and she couldn’t hear him.

  Vale grasped at her sleeve. He mouthed something that was probably What is going on, Miss Winters?