The Burning Page

by Genevieve Cogman

  Irene considered her position. Being out on the dance floor didn’t seem much more dangerous than standing here talking. She was already well into the danger zone. She might as well play along and see where it went. ‘Very well,’ she agreed. ‘So, how did you know to be here?’

  ‘Once I found out which world you were coming to – dear me, you weren’t expecting that bit, were you? I assure you it’s quite true.’ Alberich’s eyes were penetrating again, cataloguing her reactions. ‘In any case, once I knew you were heading here, I came here myself and took a position of authority. The head of the Oprichniki hears all the news, after all. When I received reports of the disturbance at the sleigh-port, I knew you were in St Petersburg. And when that storm blew up so suddenly over the Winter Palace tonight, well . . .’

  Irene seethed. In retrospect, she’d left an obvious trail for anyone who knew the signs to follow. Her only excuse was that she hadn’t expected anyone here to be looking for her. But like all excuses, when actually tested, it sounded rather hollow. Her professional pride was stung. ‘I’m extremely embarrassed,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘I had no idea—’

  ‘Well, of course not,’ Alberich said. ‘Now, as we agreed, a dance. They’re playing a waltz. You can waltz, I hope?’ He offered her his hand.

  ‘Of course,’ Irene said, taking his hand. Her skin crawled as he touched her, even through the lace of her glove. Further out in the crowd she could see Kai, and the leashed tension in his body. She caught his eye and shook her head slightly. Don’t do anything. Yet. ‘But how did you find out I was coming here?’

  ‘My dear Ray, you’re far too trusting.’ He led her out onto the floor, and she could feel the stares of the assembled dignitaries.

  ‘Will I regret agreeing to this dance?’ Fear was spreading again, like ice in her heart and throat, but she met his gaze as she turned to face him.

  Alberich paused just long enough for the fear to blossom into terror, then he smiled at her again. ‘Did you think I meant you’re too trusting of me? Well, yes, but not right here and now. I need answers, and it’s difficult to get those when the other person can’t trust you enough to make a deal. Torture really isn’t as effective as they say.’

  ‘I’m sure you’d know,’ Irene said, keeping her tone as light as she could. All around the floor, partners were smiling at each other as the musicians picked up the pace of the waltz. She set her lips in a deliberately upward curl, gazing into Alberich’s eyes as he settled his other hand on her waist. ‘But then who shouldn’t I trust – what did you mean?’

  ‘I mean that I was told you were being sent to world B-1165.’ He was ready for the stutter in her gait, and smoothly guided her into the first steps of the dance. ‘Surely you’re not so naive as to think that all Librarians are as faithful to their cause as you are?’

  Irene kept the smile pinned on her face, but her thoughts went round in little circles. He’s suggesting someone in the Library betrayed me. But is he telling the truth, or dissembling to stop me suspecting someone else? Or is it a double-bluff because he knows I’ll assume he’s lying . . . ‘Nobody’s perfect,’ she said eventually. ‘Not even me.’

  ‘So you’ve been thinking about what I said.’ They turned together in the smooth pivots of the waltz.

  ‘Well, I’m not stupid.’ Unless one counted getting into this entire situation as total stupidity, in which case Irene had already lost that argument – and probably her life, too. ‘But I want to know more about your threat to the Library, before I make any irreparable decisions.’

  ‘That’s easy enough.’ They moved in a bubble of space amid the other dancers. Nobody wanted to get too close to the head of the Oprichniki. ‘Unless it submits to me, the Library will be destroyed. And unless you give me the information I want . . .’

  ‘I will be destroyed too?’ Irene suggested.

  ‘You’re taking this very well.’

  ‘I’ve had practice,’ Irene said regretfully. ‘Death threats seem to crop up twice a week these days. I’m working on getting past the sheer terror and onto the bargaining stage.’

  ‘I knew there was a reason I liked you,’ Alberich said approvingly. They negotiated a corner turn stylishly, and Irene took the opportunity to glance across the crowd and spot Kai. He was still there. In retrospect, perhaps she should have told him to steal the book while Alberich was occupied. But she wasn’t sure he’d have agreed to leave her there with Alberich.

  ‘When we spoke before – well, when you sent me those threatening messages – you said you wanted to know what “the book” said. You meant the volume of Grimm tales, I assume?’ He’d tried to kill her over it, after all. If there was yet another book involved, that introduced a whole new level of complexity.

  ‘Correct. There was an anomalous story in that edition.’ Alberich must have caught the flicker in her eyes, as she considered claiming ignorance. ‘Come now, Ray, we both know you read it. Anyone would have done so, under the circumstances. Someone like yourself certainly would.’

  ‘“Someone like myself?”’ Irene asked, playing for time.

  ‘Someone who’s good at being a Librarian. Notice that I don’t say “a good Librarian”.’ They moved together in the waltz, their steps balanced and precise. ‘Someone who does the job well – not just someone who’s devoted to the Library’s philosophy. That’s why I want to recruit you.’

  Irene’s first impulse was a rather stupid pride. After all, how many people were complimented by the Library’s arch-traitor, who admired them enough to want to recruit them in person? The second impulse was sheer revulsion. If he thinks I’d work for him, after everything he’s done, then what does he think of me? But the third impulse, the one that kept her feet moving and her face smiling, was simple, cold calculation. How can I use this?

  ‘I can’t trust you,’ she said. He’d expect her to be suspicious. ‘Perhaps I should just run for it.’

  ‘The Palace is guarded.’ He swept her round another turn, his hand warm in the small of her back, gloved in a dead man’s skin. ‘I don’t mean just by casual guards, either. I mean by alert guards, who have been warned about possible revolutionaries – guards ready to shoot to kill and have the necromancers ask questions later. There are even guards on the roof now. The Language can’t outrun a speeding bullet.’

  Was he telling the truth? She wasn’t sure. But was it possible? Yes, very possible. ‘And if I answer your questions, and tell you what you want to know?’

  ‘Then you’ll be kept under arrest here till the Library has fallen. But you’ll live.’

  ‘And Kai?’

  ‘He can have the cell next to you,’ Alberich said generously.

  ‘You’re very certain that the Library will fall.’

  ‘If I had the least doubt, I wouldn’t be stopping to have this conversation with you here and now.’

  Irene would have liked to think Alberich was lying about that, too. But nothing in his voice suggested falsehood or even uncertainty. He meant every word of it. ‘How are you doing it?’ she asked.

  Alberich shook his head. ‘You find out if you join me.’

  Well, she hadn’t really expected that one to work. And now she really was beginning to panic, in a carefully controlled way. He wasn’t even going to gloat and conveniently provide information. Her whole attempted interrogation was a total failure. She hadn’t learned anything, except how he’d managed to trace her here.

  Perhaps it was time to go for the nuclear option.

  ‘Don’t,’ Alberich said. His smile had gone, and now his expression was all cold business.

  ‘Don’t what?’ Irene said innocently. Damn, if he’d guessed what she was thinking . . .

  ‘You’re considering using the Language to strip my skin from me and expose me in public.’ His hand tightened on hers. ‘You already did that to me once before, Ray. I don’t make the same mistake twice. I’ve taken precautions.’

  He might be telling the truth. Or he might be bluffing. Thi
s situation was impossible. But if he was bluffing and he was vulnerable in that way, then surely he wouldn’t have brought it up in the first place. Irene cursed silently. That would have worked so well. Alberich distracted, everyone turning on him, she and Kai escaping in the confusion. ‘I want a guarantee of safety for my parents,’ she said.

  ‘Why should I care about your parents?’ Alberich sounded like one of her mentors from the Library now. ‘Ray, you’re good at thinking outside the lines, but your problem is that you think too small. Your parents haven’t inconvenienced me. I don’t hold a grudge against them. I’m not the sort of sadist who’d hunt down your family to spite you. When you’re in my service, you can keep them as safe as you like.’

  He doesn’t know. The thought detonated at the back of her head in a sunburst of illumination. He doesn’t know my parents are Librarians, or he wouldn’t be so quick to agree. He thinks they’re just ordinary humans. And everyone in the Library who knows me, knows that my parents are Librarians. Which almost certainly means that whoever told him to find me here isn’t a Librarian.

  Her sudden surge of relief must have shown in her face, for Alberich nodded paternally. ‘There, you see? You need to learn to trust me, Ray. I’m not your enemy here.’

  The circle of waltzers turned on its invisible hub, spinning Alberich and Irene towards the end of the room where the Empress sat among her advisors, watching the reception with a gracious smile.

  ‘You’re very good at making me forget what you are,’ Irene said. That was true. She could dance with him like this, trading insults and questions, and it was almost . . . entertaining. Challenging. Exciting. Perhaps it was the feeling of security at being in such a public place, with so many other people present. But it was a false security, as threadbare as her fake identity here, and she was still entirely vulnerable.

  ‘Redefining one’s self is something we all have to do.’ Alberich’s tone was oddly serious, as if this was more important than the security of the Library itself, or her own life. ‘You have to ask: Am I just a Librarian? Is this all I am, all that I ever will be? Or can I actually transform myself into something more?’

  ‘This sounds like an argument for transhumanism,’ Irene said. ‘Evolution to the next stage.’

  ‘Is that what they’re calling it now? It’s hardly a new idea. The only problem is that it’s difficult to imagine something entirely new. We use the words and definitions of the past to shape our ideas. Something that is genuinely the next evolutionary step is unlikely to resemble anything we can imagine. Even the best books on the subject are limited.’

  She’d never thought of Alberich as a science-fiction reader before. ‘Maybe you’re right about the limitations of imagination – and not just for humans. I spoke with an elder Fae a few months back. She was encouraging the younger ones to leave humanity behind, to become defined by stories instead. She’d never consider anything outside that sphere.’

  ‘That’s where both the Fae and the dragons fail.’ Alberich’s eyes had that hungry look again, though it wasn’t directed at Irene. It was directed at the whole world. ‘They are defined either by narrative or by reality. They don’t go beyond that. The only person who can ever set bounds on you should be yourself.’

  It all sounded perfectly reasonable, but from Irene’s perspective, the fact that Alberich was a murderer and traitor suggested there were flaws in his philosophy. ‘But you’re allied with the Fae . . .’ she said.

  ‘I use the Fae. Both sides in this struggle are ultimately doomed to failure. The dragons, the Fae – both of them incapable of coming to any agreement, blinkered by their own limitations. They’re sterile, Ray. Moribund. What’s the point of preserving a system where nobody wins? The most you can achieve is that everyone continues this stalemate for eternity.’

  ‘And neither side actually cares about the humans in the middle . . .’ Irene could see where this argument was going. She’d had it demonstrated to her only a few months ago, when Kai was kidnapped. Both sides had been on the verge of a war, and neither had seemed particularly interested in the worlds in the middle. The closest they’d come had been a suggestion that the humans would ultimately be better off under their control.

  Alberich nodded. ‘You see my point. Humanity is the future. And the Library should be leaders in that future, rather than just collecting books. We should be uniting worlds, not keeping secrets from them. Building alliances. Recruiting the best and the brightest. Using the Language to change things for the better. How are you actually helping anyone by supporting the current status quo?’

  She could have said I’m stopping things from getting worse, but she was sure he’d have a counter for that as well. This was like being in an argument with an older Librarian, where she knew she was going to lose and the only question was how . . .

  Common sense kicked in. Why, precisely, was she trying to argue a point of logic with the person who was trying to destroy the Library? Did she actually think she was going to convince Alberich to change his mind? This wasn’t about winning an argument. It was about getting information out of him. Pride was not the issue. Stopping him was.

  Of course, simply getting away from him right now would be game, set and match to her. ‘I do see,’ she answered, her voice barely audible above the murmuring of the reception crowd and the music. Let him think that she was considering. Let him think anything, as long as she had a moment to act. Because she’d thought of something to slow him down, just a little.

  She broke away from him mid-twirl, wrenching herself out of his hands – and was that a faint stickiness that she felt against her skin, where he’d touched her? No, she wasn’t going to even consider that. She’d picked her location: they were barely ten yards from the Empress.

  Her Imperial, Undying Majesty looked down at Irene from her chair on the dais, raising an eyebrow at this public display of bad manners. The advisors around her, in their sumptuous robes and their heavily medal-bedecked military uniforms, were looking at her too. Even the two white tigers that lay at the chair’s feet raised their heads to regard Irene with great yellow eyes.

  ‘Your Imperial Majesty,’ Irene cried out, ‘that man is an impostor!’ She dodged a grab from Alberich to stumble a few paces towards the dais. The music had come to a jangling halt, and the room was full of shocked whispers. Hands fell to the hilts of dress swords.

  This had better work.

  Irene focused on the Language. ‘Your Imperial Majesty must perceive that I speak the truth!’

  The exquisite marble floor came up and hit her in the face.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The floor was such a pretty colour. The bit directly in front of Irene’s face was golden marble, though it was spattered with the blood that seemed to be dripping from her nose. She tried to work out exactly how that had happened, but her brain wasn’t cooperating, and all the screaming and shouting made it hard to think.

  Fire blazed somewhere above her, reflected in the polished floor before her in a burst of rainbows. A woman shouted something, her voice a whip of command, and a choir of voices answered. And the fire lashed out again.

  Then another voice spoke from behind her, in a tone that roused her to full consciousness like a cold shower in the morning. It wasn’t the voice of the man she’d been speaking with, the voice of the man whose skin he’d stolen. It was the voice of the real Alberich, the Librarian who had willingly contaminated himself with chaos and become something other than human. It sounded like buzzing wasps, like water on molten metal.

  The air boomed, and a gust of freezing wind washed over her and outwards. Then it switched to a hissing suction in the opposite direction that dragged at her clothing. Chaotic power throbbed against her bare skin, aggressive and growing.

  Irene was almost certain she wouldn’t like the answer, but she had to know what was going on behind her. She rolled onto her side, her head still swimming, and turned to look.

  There was a hole in the air where Alberich had be
en standing. It hung in empty space like an obsidian mirror twice a man’s height, blackness seething around its edges and struggling to expand. In its depths, Irene thought she could see a man’s figure, half-defined and obscured by the shadows. It was diminishing every second, as though it was somehow retreating from her without actually moving. It raised an arm in a beckoning gesture, and for one stupid moment she thought, Of course, this is how I catch Alberich – all I have to do is get up and walk forward . . .

  Darkness boiled out of the hole in the air, reaching out in tentacles that curled towards the bystanders. And towards Irene. One shadowy tentacle coiled round her ankle, cool through the silk of her stocking, but with sparks of chaos fizzing through it like bubbles in champagne. She shrieked, momentarily unable to phrase anything in the Language through sheer terror and disgust. She struggled to pull herself away, flailing her feet wildly.

  The woman’s voice spoke again, but this time it was like the first line of a psalm: other voices from around the floor chanted a response in thunderous unison, and the floating void in the air shrank as lightning crackled around it in a halo.

  Irene’s conscious, professional mind was trying to take notes, even under the current circumstances. So this is what happens during a chaos incursion in a high-order world. It has significant difficulty in sustaining itself, and even local humans are able to force it shut – assuming they’re powerful enough. Of course it would be easier to be analytical if that damned tentacle wasn’t still trying to drag her towards the hole. And the beautiful marble floor was so smooth that there was nothing to halt her inevitable slide towards it. Even her fingernails could gain no purchase.

  ‘Chaos power, release me!’ she gasped, trying to project her words loudly enough to be heard. But this time the Language failed her. She knew she was forming the words properly, she could hear them, but there was no power behind them. She was a reservoir that had run dry. Her head ached as if someone was drilling screws into her temples, and she lost what little grip she had on the floor, slipping inexorably towards the hole in space.