The Mortal Word

by Genevieve Cogman

  Silver reached across to take her hand. His fingers stroked the underside of her wrist, as possessively as if he already owned her. “Very good, little mouse. Then it just comes down to negotiating the price.”

  Irene set her teeth, trying to ignore the pull of his presence. It urged her to believe that she was warm and comfortable, as soft as moulded wax and ready to relax into his arms. She took a deep breath of the cold air. The temperature is freezing cold. This man is not a friend.

  “What is the secret?” she asked.

  Silver’s eyes narrowed, and his fingers tightened around her wrist. “Don’t try to be funny.”

  “I’m not.” Irene saw that she had thrown him off balance, and it helped her regain her own stability. “I accept that you have—or that you believe you have—information. I am prepared to negotiate. But I’m being quite honest here when I tell you that I don’t know what the information is.”

  Kai and Vale probably had their ears plastered against the bathroom door. She wondered how long it would be before they decided that she needed protection whether she wanted it or not.

  “Little mouse,” Silver said, rising to stand over her, “I know from experience that you’re extremely good at bluffing. That isn’t going to work here. I want a decision from you.”

  Irene broke her hand free from his clasp and rose to her feet to look him in the eye. She left the counterpane on the chair. The cold air helped her focus, kept her mind clear and untangled from the heated interests of the body. “You don’t believe me? I’ll convince you. I swear to you in the Language that I don’t know what this piece of information of yours is.”

  Her words hung in the room like the chord of an organ. Silver took a step away from her, swaying back like a leopard. For a moment, almost too fast to be perceived, his face was full of indecision, and then he was all calm and grace again, but Irene had seen his uncertainty. It had been the expression of a cat trying to claim that he hadn’t been going for the cream in the first place, after being found in the middle of shattered crockery and a destroyed kitchen.

  A dainty knock came from the corridor.

  Irene stalked across to the door and opened it. “Yes?” she demanded.

  Mu Dan was standing there, fully dressed, fresh snow crusted on her hat and coat. “Ah, good,” she said. “I’m glad you’re already up. May I come in?”

  “Certainly,” Irene said. She decided that her best move at the moment was to keep Silver off balance. Throwing a dragon into the mix would certainly help.

  Silver dropped back down into his chair and draped his arm across his face theatrically as Mu Dan stepped into the room. “These constant interruptions . . .”

  Mu Dan frowned. “Really, Irene. Receiving a visitor like this, and in this state of dress—are you sure that you should be behaving in such a way?”

  “I’ve got chaperones,” Irene said, banging the door shut. She decided that there was no point in concealing things any longer. Silver already knew, and as for Mu Dan . . . well, Kai had said he’d been told to seduce Irene. Ao Ji wouldn’t object if he’d succeeded. “Vale, Kai, you might as well come out of there now.”

  Vale was the first to emerge from the bathroom, with Kai a step behind him. Both of them scowled in Silver’s direction. Silver very obviously ignored them.

  Mu Dan’s brows rose higher as she took in the gathering. “I wasn’t aware that we were having a full meeting of the investigative team now. Or that His Highness”—she nodded to Kai—“would be present.”

  “Miss Winters is so enticing that we just can’t stay away from her,” Silver informed the ceiling.

  “Have you finished your private conversation with Winters?” Vale enquired. “Then perhaps we can continue.”

  “For the moment,” Silver said.

  “I don’t think so,” Irene contradicted. She walked across to look down at him. “I think Lord Silver is about to share some valuable information with all of us.”

  Silence filled the room, spreading like ink in water. Finally Silver said, “Are you quite sure about this?”

  Mu Dan’s interruption had given Irene the chance to get her mind in order. And the thought that had come most prominently to her attention was that any attempt to cover things up was going to make things worse. She could certainly make a temporary bargain with Silver to cover this up—whatever this was. (It would be very embarrassing if this turned out to be something as petty as Kostchei being a vegetarian, or Coppelia using whale-oil on her clockwork joints.) She could sacrifice her own dignity or personal life if she had to.

  But the moment that this piece of information came out via other means—whether through Silver or Irene or some other misdemeanour by the culprit—and people found out that Irene had tried to cover it up, then the Library would lose its credibility. At the moment the Library had to be open, public, and thoroughly non-secretive.

  Irene could only pray that this secret would be manageable . . . and that the people in the room with her would react in a more rational way than, say, dragon kings or Fae cardinals.

  “We’re a team,” she said. “We’re here to find out the truth. If you happen to know something relevant to the case, Lord Silver, then I would like you to share it with us. Whoever it incriminates.”

  “Fine. Very well.” Silver flicked a glance around the room. “I would just like to point out, before this goes any further, that I offered Miss Winters the chance to discuss this in private first. I am not trying to cause trouble for her Library or impede the negotiations. And is it fair that the prince here should be listening?” His gesture indicated Kai’s general area of the room. “Do I get to bring in more of my own kind, if we’re adding more dragons to this . . . team?”

  Kai was distinctly pale. It wasn’t just the cold: whatever he was thinking had caused him to lose his colour. “Lord Silver”—he emphasised the lord—“has a point. And I’m prepared to leave the room, if you all wish me to. However, given that I already know that there’s some sort of secret here to which Lord Silver is privy, and that it involves the Library, I’m not sure that having me leave at this point will make things much better. If I know what it is, that might at least mitigate the damage.”

  Assuming it’s insignificant, Irene thought numbly. Because if it is significant, then you’ll be bound to share it with your uncle, and then who knows which way the cards may fall . . . She wished that she could rewind the last half-hour of her life and somehow wipe Silver out of it.

  “Lord Silver,” she said. “I’ll overlook your private discussion about this fact with me, if you’ll overlook Kai’s presence while we thrash this out. Deal?”

  Silver’s eyes glinted, and Irene had the impression that he was making a mental note for some future bill that she’d have to pay. With interest. But he nodded. “Very well. Deal. Here’s what I was thinking.”

  He straightened up in the chair, no longer stressing the back to the breaking-point, and leaned forward in an imitation—conscious or not—of one of Vale’s characteristic poses. “There is another hell in Paris besides the Cabaret de L’Enfer. And after all, Ren Shun’s note only mentioned ‘hell’—he never implied the cabaret connection. This hell—this enfer—is a place where one might reasonably think one could find books too—so it seems far more relevant. To me, at least, much though I prefer cabarets . . . We can’t forget that Ren Shun overheard a conversation about a book the night before he died, one that apparently could be more important than the conference itself. But I digress. I’ll be honest . . . no, astonishingly honest with you. When my little mouse here didn’t mention it, I assumed she had a good reason for keeping her mouth shut, and due to my charitable and generous nature I decided to play along.”

  Irene searched her memories desperately. She couldn’t think of anything that matched Silver’s train of thought. “I’m sorry,” she finally admitted—to the room, rather than to Silver. “I d
on’t know what you’re thinking of. I really don’t.”

  “Your tastes in literature must be more limited than I’d thought,” Silver said with relish. His eyes strayed to the unmade bed for a moment, and Irene felt herself flush with embarrassment. “But to the point. There is an area within the Richelieu Library known as the Enfer. And yes, detective, before you raise the issue—it was one of the places targeted in last night’s bombing. Or should that be this morning? One loses track.”

  Irene’s growing indignation got the better of her and took the reins. “How on earth could you know something about any library in Paris that I don’t?”

  “A question I asked myself,” Silver murmured, “and the reason why I kept silent.”

  “Of course I know it was one of the places targeted in last night’s bombing,” Vale said calmly. His restraint was so carefully honed that the anger behind his words was obvious. “Did you really think that I hadn’t checked the records, Lord Silver? I was going to raise the matter myself—but you insisted on speaking with Winters in private first.”

  Silver looked at Vale sidelong. “Ah. So it’s not a case of you finding out, wanting to discuss it in private with Winters, and hoping that I hadn’t realized it? How suspicious of me to think that you might have your own motives.”

  “I would find you more tolerable if I thought you had any motive besides blackmailing her for your personal gratification,” Vale snapped. “This is hardly the first time, either.”

  Irene realized with alarm that the fragile peace was about to shatter. Vale and Silver would need only a moment’s push to be at each other’s throats. Kai would unhesitatingly side with Vale, in defence of Irene’s honour; Mu Dan would be only too glad to join any faction against Silver. She had to get them back on the subject, fast.

  “So what is the Enfer?” she demanded of Silver, stepping between him and Vale. “What books are stored there?”

  “Erotica and pornography,” Silver said with relish. “Only rare or valuable pieces, you understand. And other banned books, though they’re not as interesting. One needs special authorisation to enter. I have visiting permission for the area in your own world.” He smirked. “But my point, Miss Winters, is that even if you didn’t know about it—which I admit is possible—are you confident that your superiors wouldn’t? If they knew there was a library in Paris called Hell, and it might be related to the note in Ren Shun’s pocket, why didn’t they share that information with you?”

  CHAPTER 17

  Throughout Irene’s life—and during the last year or two in particular—she had been growing more and more habituated to a key principle. Don’t waste time arguing against the impossible; accept it and find a solution.

  For a moment she wondered if Prutkov could have been as ignorant of the facts as she was. But she rejected the thought: he was Melusine’s apprentice, and he was one of the people organising this peace conference. He would know as much as possible about this Paris—and about its libraries.

  Which meant he’d lied to her.

  No. He’d not just lied to her—that might be understandable in the line of duty. He’d lied to her when having that lie discovered would leave the Library even more endangered than it had been before. Irene could—barely—tolerate being used. But she would not accept being used badly.

  A thread of fear ran down her spine at the thought of what might be going on here. Prutkov being secretive was the good explanation. The alternatives were much worse. “All right,” she said. “I take your point. Clearly I need to discuss this with my supervisor. Will you all let me look into this?” Before you tell your superiors that the Library’s untrustworthy, she meant, and they all knew it. “It’s possible that I’m just a victim of lack of communications, from someone who didn’t think that I . . . needed to know.”

  “I think we can agree to that,” Vale said.

  “Speak for yourself,” Mu Dan said, a snort implicit in her voice. “This is either incompetence on the Library’s part or deliberate malice. You can’t expect me to keep silent about it.”

  Irene wished for the counterpane back. Her feet were aching with the cold. She saw Kai open his mouth to speak, and she cut in before Mu Dan could reject it as personal partiality. “But can I ask you to keep silent until I’ve investigated? Do you believe that I’m sincere, at least?”

  “Anyone can seem sincere,” Mu Dan countered. She pointed a finger at Silver. “He seems sincere.”

  “Do you accept, on the evidence so far, that I’m acting in good faith—and that I honestly didn’t know about this Enfer business?”

  Mu Dan considered, then shrugged. “Yes, I do. But, Irene, consider my position. I can’t conceal secrets from His Majesty Ao Ji.”

  Irene noticed the interesting hierarchy indicated there. Not my lord or my superior, but just His Majesty. This was an avenue she could work with. “You’re an independent judge-investigator,” she countered, turning Mu Dan’s earlier words back against her. “I’m sure there have been times when you’ve held back from immediate prosecution in order to confirm the full facts of a case. Let’s be honest.” She looked round at the room. “If anyone tries to take this to my superiors here and now, those same superiors are going to put the blame on me. They’ll say I was ignorant, or I misunderstood, or something. They might take me off the case—and then you’d have to work with someone who might not be as . . . sincere.”

  It would have been nice if they’d disagreed. But they didn’t.

  “We do unfortunately live in a world of politics,” Mu Dan finally said. “Very well, I agree, on the understanding that you’ll share your results as soon as you have them. And what about His Highness here?” She indicated Kai. “What will you say to your uncle?”

  The edge to Mu Dan’s voice suggested a personal dimension, possibly even a grudge towards her fellow dragon, and Irene noted that down for later investigation.

  But Kai merely shrugged. “As various people have pointed out, I’m not a member of this investigative group, and thus I am under no obligation to report its findings. Regarding my obligations to my uncle . . . I’m making a personal judgement that allowing Irene to investigate will be the most productive course of action. Is that acceptable?”

  Mu Dan nodded curtly and the tension in the room went down a notch. She turned to Vale. “So what did you find out about last night?”

  Irene retrieved her counterpane while Vale recounted last night’s investigation, with occasional input from Silver. It boiled down to the fact that yes, there had been explosions; yes, there had been anarchist slogans daubed on the walls; and yes, there were currently no clues. Or should that be no, there were currently no clues? It was difficult to be sure of the proper grammar when everyone was gloomily agreeing on the absence of evidence. At least the immediate animosity had been defused.

  “There’s something I’ve been thinking about,” she said. “I don’t know how long they had to do it, but I’m assuming that representatives of all three sides gathered as much information about this Paris as possible—before the conference started. Nobody was going to jump into these waters unprepared.”

  Silver frowned. “True, but unfortunately the Cardinal isn’t sharing anything that significant or useful.”

  “Yes,” Irene agreed. “I can accept that. But who was doing the investigation on the dragon side?”

  “Ren Shun,” Mu Dan said. “It would have been one of his duties, naturally.”

  “But he wouldn’t do it himself, would he?”

  Mu Dan tilted her head thoughtfully. She’d taken one of the chairs and was sitting in it as primly as an etiquette illustration. “No. He would have his agents do that. You think that I should press for access to his servants and private records?”

  Vale nodded. “Winters is right. Perhaps while he was researching this location and the peace conference participants, Ren Shun stumbled across something which caused
his murder.”

  “His Majesty won’t like it,” Mu Dan said. “He wanted to keep this investigation entirely separate from Ren Shun’s private life. But I can see your point. I’ll make the request for access.”

  “You hadn’t made it already?” Irene asked, as innocently as possible.

  “As a matter of course, yes, but it had been turned down. I’ll stress the point.”

  Irene glanced across the room at Kai and saw that he was looking thoughtful. She knew what was on his mind. Mu Dan was being less than honest or forthcoming here—but Vale, who lacked Irene’s experience with dragons, might not have realized it. “Correct me if I’m wrong,” she said, “but I understand that most dragons of Ren Shun’s rank would have at least one private servant to see to things that were beneath their master’s dignity. Even if Ren Shun was a spymaster, he wouldn’t necessarily go out on the town every night to collect reports. That would be what his trusted staff did. Dragon society is very hierarchical. I’ve come to appreciate that fact recently. And Ren Shun’s servants would be particularly loyal to him—and particularly interested in avenging his murder, one hopes. So where are they?”

  Mu Dan was silent, tapping her fingers on the gilded arm of her chair. When she spoke, she was clearly picking her words with care. “Irene, you’ve asked me to let you handle your own affairs inside the Library. In return, I formally request that you let me pursue this trail myself. I know that something’s wrong. What’s that phrase from the play? Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.”

  “You think there’s obstruction at a high level?” Vale said, leaning hawk-like towards her.

  “I think there’s obstruction at some level,” Mu Dan returned, “but I need more information. As you’ve pointed out, we usually have servants. I have servants. But right now, I’m isolated here without my staff, and with nobody but you to depend on. This is not a state of affairs which I enjoy.”

  “Ah, sweet honesty,” Silver drawled. “The pin that pops the boil and brings all the inflammation to the surface. Should I confess my suspicions now as well, just to complete the triangle?”