The Lost Plot

by Genevieve Cogman

  “Fetch me down the biggest atlas that you can,” Irene directed. They were in the section that sold books and stationery. She’d stopped off on the way up through women’s clothing and jewellery to shoplift a large locket, decorated with rhinestones and in appallingly bad taste. She was going to have to collect some new clothing as well. Irene’s usual instinct in clothing—to go for the plain and unobtrusive—had steered her absolutely wrong in this time and place. Even if she’d chosen the right skirt length, at just below the knee, her clothing was far too drab. She wasn’t wearing any jewellery, and she was in muted dark colours, not bright ones. And the fashionable cloche hat just looked wrong on her. It was no wonder they’d been easy to follow.

  “Let me find one . . .” Kai trailed along the shelves of books, having to lean in closely to read their titles in the dim light. They couldn’t risk putting the actual shop lights on. He had to make do with moonlight and the glare of street lamps through the windows. “Street or country?”

  “Global,” Irene said. She removed the page with Evariste’s name on it from its concealment, and began folding it up as tightly as possible. “Our next stop’s probably China, given the book, but let’s try to find out where before we hit the airport.”

  “That’s reasonable,” Kai said. “Now how about an explanation of why a department store, rather than a hotel or somewhere we could actually get some sleep?” He pulled out one of the largest books and carried it across to where Irene was sitting on the floor. “And what do I do with this now?”

  Irene nodded towards the floor in front of her. She squashed the small folded piece of paper into the locket and forced it shut. “Sorry, Kai. I’ve been so busy running these last few hours that there hasn’t been the chance for us to talk properly about our plans. I’m going to try to scry for Evariste. And then we’re going to do some shopping.”

  “I thought you didn’t practise magic.” Kai put the heavy volume down with a thud, then pulled it forward a few inches so that it lay in a beam of moonlight. “There, that should be enough light to read by. And shopping? This place is plebeian.”

  Irene dangled the locket by its chain. “This isn’t magic, it’s the Language. I’ve a clear link to Evariste here, through his name in the Language. I’m hoping—note the word hope—that I’ll be able to find out where he is on these maps. Then our next step is to go after him and pull the plug on this whole situation—or at least remove the Library from the equation.” She ignored Kai’s attack on off-the-peg shopping with the ease of practice.

  Kai was silent for a moment as Irene opened the atlas and held the locket above it. “Don’t you think we should be investigating the damage to the library here in Boston?” he finally said. “If that was a Fae strike against the Library itself . . .”

  Irene looked up at him and raised an eyebrow.

  “Just because Hu may have lied to you about some things doesn’t mean he was lying to you about everything.”

  “It’s not only the fact that someone—Fae, or whoever—blew up the library that happens to contain the Traverse from our Library to this world,” Irene said. The earlier anger was still seething within her. “They blew up a library. A library, Kai. They haven’t just offended me, they have attacked and insulted every single citizen of this place who used that library, who contributed to it, who even so much as might have used it someday in the future.” She saw the locket trembling with her fury and took a deep breath, controlling herself. “I do want to know who damaged the library here in Boston. But it’s not my priority. It can’t be, until we’ve found Evariste and we know what’s going on with him. But I sincerely hope that whoever is responsible ends up being dragged to the police station and torn limb from limb by the mob.”

  “Irene . . .” Kai said in a tone that suggested You don’t really mean that, do you? He did have these misconceptions about her being a fundamentally nice person. After the last year, she wasn’t sure why.

  “All right. Cancel the vivid daydream about them being torn limb from limb.” She looked away from him. “But don’t expect me to be lenient towards someone destroying books, Kai. Whoever it is.”

  Even if it’s me, the thought ran through her head, as she swung the locket over the open atlas. “Pages of the atlas in front of me, turn; locket, indicate the place where the Librarian whose name you contain is to be found.”

  The pages shifted as if touched by a wind, then began to ripple and move, one after another flipping over to show the next country, then the next—as the locket swung in Irene’s hand like a dowsing pendulum. Irene breathed deeply as she watched, bracing herself against the light drain of energy as the Language took its toll. It wasn’t a significant strain—not as bad, for instance, as having to bemuse half a dozen onlookers or freeze a canal—but it had been a long day, and she was tired.

  “If Hu isn’t someone you know,” she said, her eyes still on the swinging locket, “who could he be? You knew Qing Song and Jin Zhi, after all—or at least you knew who they were, even if you hadn’t met them.”

  “His manners and bearing sound as if he’s at least minor nobility,” Kai said. “But I don’t know anyone by that name of royal blood, or of the major nobility. I wonder if he might be someone’s servant.”

  “With the someone in question being one of our two book-hunters?”

  “Or another faction who wants to influence the situation. It’s a pity I couldn’t get close enough to see him . . . but yes, I do realize the problem with that is that he’d see me.”

  Irene nodded. Kai didn’t want to interfere in other dragons’ business—or at least, he didn’t want to get caught. She agreed with that. But from her rather more selfish point of view, the longer Kai’s presence here went unknown, the more help he could be in finding Evariste.

  And there was another factor. Did dragons gossip about her and Kai? If anyone here recognized Kai, would they deduce who Irene was—a librarian on a mission that might involve them? And in the longer term, could she really keep working with Kai? Might she inadvertently cause the very same problems to the Library, concerning forbidden dragon alliances, which she was currently trying to avoid? Irene had steered them well clear of dragon politics, so they should be above reproach. But if wholesale collusion between a dragon and the Library was proven—or even suspected—then rumour could label Irene and Kai as another piece of evidence.

  The pages stopped turning. The locket jerked downwards. Irene frowned as she recognized the country on the page. “Wait a moment. That’s America. That’s here!”

  “Are you sure it’s working properly?” Kai asked.

  Irene rubbed her forehead and wished for sleep. “Well, if it isn’t, then we’re metaphorically already ten miles down and sinking . . . with all due apologies to any dragons who like to live in oceanic trenches.”

  “The company down there’s very dull,” Kai said, with such a straight face that he had to be joking. Probably. She thought. “But America makes no sense. The book’s Chinese.”

  Irene nodded, considering. “Let’s assume that it’s working and that there’s some reason for Evariste to be here.” She leaned in to peer at the chunk of North America that the locket was indicating, but the fine print on the map was too small and the cities were all close together. “You’d better get me an atlas of North America. Or America, at least. And grab any city-by-city guidebooks, if there are any.”

  A minute later Kai was back with another atlas, and an apology for the lack of local guidebooks. Irene repeated her earlier use of the Language, and watched the turning pages and the swinging locket. The result was unmistakeable. “New York,” she said. “It’s pointing to New York.”

  “Well . . .” Kai finally shrugged, as much at a loss as she was. “It’s closer than China,” he offered.

  Irene checked the map in front of her. “It’s about, um, two hundred miles away.”

  “A plane might be fastest
,” Kai said thoughtfully. “But I’m not sure how frequent the flights are—and I have no idea what the security would be like. There should be a train route between Boston and New York, or would a car be faster?”

  “Hiring a car means leaving a paper trail,” Irene said.

  Kai folded himself down to join Irene on the floor. “But if Hu suspects we’re going to flee the city, then it would make sense for him to watch the major exit points. He could expect to catch us there. Whatever his intentions are. We’ve avoided his men enough times this evening already to know that he wants us.”

  Irene chewed her lower lip. “Yes,” she said slowly. “But Hu would have to spread his resources thin to watch air, road, rail, maybe even sea . . . which gives us more of a chance to slip through. Especially after we’ve changed our appearance.”

  “Ah, so that’s what you meant by shopping,” Kai said. He looked around at the shadowed shelves and racks gloomily. “Couldn’t we at least break into somewhere more expensive?”

  “We’re trying to go unnoticed,” Irene reminded him.

  “There is something else . . .” he said before she could mock his vanity. “Your hair.”

  “Is it loose?” Irene’s hands went up to touch it, to see if her bun had started to unravel.

  “No, it’s long. You have noticed that women of your apparent age wear it short in this time and place, haven’t you? With those little hats?”

  “But it’s taken me years to grow it out . . .” Irene stopped, took a deep breath, and resigned herself to short hair. All the women they’d seen so far, from twenty to forty, had their hair cut and styled short. “Oh, all right, but it would be a great deal easier if you weren’t smirking at me. Let me guess: all young royal dragons get trained in hair-styling, along with everything else.”

  “No, but I’m always ready to learn,” Kai replied.

  They ended up in the haberdashery section on the fifth floor, dodging the security guard on the way. Irene sat down in a section of street-lamp glare while Kai fussed with the scissors. With a regretful sigh she pulled the pins and combs out of her hair and made a little pile of them on the floor. “Tell me,” she said softly, trying to distract herself. “Dragons and royalty, major nobility, minor nobility, servants, whatever . . . I’m trying to work out what we’re dealing with here. If Hu is working for Qing Song or Jin Zhi, then how many other agents might be lurking in the shadows—”

  “Dragons do not lurk in the shadows,” Kai interrupted firmly.

  “Even those dragons who are temporarily experimenting with a criminal lifestyle?”

  “You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?” He moved behind her, gathering her loose hair into his hand. “One of these days I’m going to find out something embarrassing about your past and I’ll spend the next few decades reminding you about it.”

  Irene tried not to dwell on the warm feelings conjured by the next few decades. Planning that far in the future was asking for disappointment. She’d always found it best to concentrate on what was directly ahead—the next book, the next lesson, the next job. It was Kai’s fault that he made the idea of decades of friendship sound so possible.

  Then he began to saw at her hair and she bit back a yelp as he tugged at the roots. “Ow,” she said, softly but with feeling.

  “This always looks so easy when they do it in the barber’s,” Kai said, his tone perplexed. “Can you keep your head still?”

  Having her ears accidentally cut off hadn’t been on Irene’s list of Possible Mission Hazards. Truly the life of a Librarian was full of rich learning experiences. “If either Jin Zhi or Qing Song has brought agents in to search for the book, what sort of numbers might we be looking at?” she asked through gritted teeth.

  “Well, you remember when I said that someone like myself—a very young dragon of the royal blood—could carry one or two people?”

  “I do.”

  “Normally someone of royal blood wouldn’t personally carry things or people,” Kai explained. “So the servants do that, and follow in our wake. We’d only make an exception for personal favourites.” His finger brushed the side of her neck for a moment, but the gesture was affectionate rather than seductive. Even if it succeeded quite well at both.

  “All right,” Irene said, doing her best to ignore the touch of his skin against hers. “So correct me if I’m wrong. Jin Zhi and Qing Song aren’t of royal blood, but they are major nobility. They’re powerful enough to travel between worlds themselves, but are they strong enough to bring some servants behind them?”

  “Probably,” Kai admitted. The pressure on her head eased. Cold air breathed across the back of her neck. “Perhaps half-a-dozen at most? Though more likely just two or three, if that. Someone of high birth couldn’t manage without their servants.”

  “Well, yes,” Irene said. “Who else would arrange the hotel rooms, bribe the mobsters, do the research . . .” She wanted to turn and look up at him, but he was busy with the scissors again. “Though you’ve never suggested that you wanted servants.”

  “I’m too young,” Kai said calmly. The cold metal of the shears touched her skin. “If I were older, I’d be expected to be involved in more important matters. I’d have an aide or a bodyguard, or someone like that, just as my honoured uncle has Li Ming.”

  “That’s who Hu reminded me of.” Irene remembered those moments with him in the car.

  “Li Ming?”

  “It was the way Hu handled me.” Irene tried to gesture in explanation without moving her head. “He had the same sort of bearing and authority, and he mentioned his lord. He’s not just a casual minion, he’s someone’s trusted assistant.”

  “Unfortunately that still doesn’t mean I know who he is. Turn your head a little to the left . . . yes, thank you.” The shears brushed her skin again. “There are more dragons than there are Librarians, and it’s not as if you know every Librarian.”

  Irene had admittedly been thinking it was a nuisance that Kai didn’t know every single dragon, but she tried to look innocent. “Could a dragon change his or her status?” she asked. “If they were spectacularly good at their job, perhaps?”

  There was a long silence from behind her. She had the impression that Kai was picking and choosing between several possible answers. Maybe the intricacies of dragon rankings weren’t for Librarian ears. “Well, there are standards,” he finally said. “Blood does count. You can’t expect it to be as it is with Librarians. Some dragons are simply born superior to others. Most human cultures accept that sort of thing too. Nature and abilities do make a difference, though good service would naturally be recognized. The situation in the Library is different, of course . . .”

  Kai’s apologetic tone was only because he knew Irene had strong opinions about hereditary superiority. He didn’t actually think she was right, but he was generously making allowances for human sensibilities. Dragon courtesy towards lesser beings.

  And who was she to judge? Irene wondered with a vast weariness. She was someone who stole books for a living. Even if it was theoretically to protect the balance of the universe, it was still stealing books. What gave her any sort of greater moral perspective or superiority?

  “There.” Kai smoothed her hair, and for a moment it felt as if he was stroking it. She suppressed a shiver. He stood back. “What do you think?”

  Irene pulled herself to her feet and walked over to the nearest mirror. To her surprise, her hair actually looked quite elegant. “Good job,” she said.

  Kai shrugged, but he looked pleased. “So, what are our next steps?”

  “Burn my hair, in case anyone can use it to track me. Take some clothing. Pack a suitcase.” She saw his mulish look and reluctantly added, “Leave a suitable payment in the tills, of course. Then reach the railway station and catch a train to New York.” She thought for a moment. “And don’t forget to stop off in the book department
of this store while we’re packing. We don’t want to be stuck on the train with nothing to read.”

  CHAPTER 8

  The train came rattling into New York as dawn spread across the sky and began to colour the surrounding world. Irene gazed out the window, trying to come to terms with the fact that it was morning and she needed to wake up. The countryside had been left behind, as had the out-of-town residences of the wealthy and famous, with their surrounding greenery and walls. Now the train was sliding along a complicated diagram of parallel tracks, through a landscape of warehouses and industry, brown brick and grey brick and concrete. Looking ahead, she could see the city itself: the morning light caught on the high buildings and skyscrapers, making them gleam like silver and ivory. Their dozens of windows stared back at her like dark eyes. The sky was clear—unnaturally clear, after her time in Vale’s fog-shrouded London—and the city unfolded in front of her like a treasure-box full of possibilities.

  Kai was still asleep next to her, his hat tilted over his face and his breathing steady. Around them, other people in the carriage were waking up and rubbing their eyes. A few women had pulled out compacts and were making repairs to their make-up, repainting the curves of their lips and patting powder onto their faces. Two elderly white-bearded men packed away the miniature set of draughts that they’d been playing on through most of the night. They spoke softly to each other in a Slavic dialect that Irene couldn’t quite catch. The noise level in the carriage rose as other groups of travellers began to chatter, and three young men in cheap sharp suits lit cigarettes almost in unison as they sneered at the world around them. The train was moving through the city now, alongside apartment buildings and tenements, close enough that she could glance through the windows as they passed and catch fragmentary scenes of life. A mother corralling her family for breakfast. A boy leaning out of the window with a boxy camera.