The Lost Plot

by Genevieve Cogman

  Deny everything, keep your mouth shut, and demand a lawyer, Irene thought, remembering Kai’s earlier advice. But did dragons have lawyers for this sort of situation? Or was it much less civilized?

  “I couldn’t possibly comment,” Kai said. “And I must ask by what authority you are keeping me here. I am not under the queen’s rule.”

  “You are within her domains,” Mei Feng countered. “Are you here with your father’s leave?”

  “He is not aware of my current whereabouts,” Kai said with great care. “I hope there will be no need to involve him in this matter.”

  As the two of them stared at each other—irresistible force and immovable object—there was a roaring noise in the sky above, and a rift tore open. The fourth dragon had returned. The newcomer dropped from the heavens like a stone, barely managing to spread their wings in time to slow their fall.

  The dragon’s form blurred in a burst of light, and then a young man was standing there—his breath coming in hoarse gasps, his forehead streaked with sweat. “My lady,” he croaked, struggling to keep his voice even, “Her Majesty commands the presence of all involved, with the utmost speed, in order to resolve this situation.”

  “Excellent,” Mei Feng said, clearly relieved by this solution. “Your Highness, let me invite you to the court of the Queen of the Southern Lands so that you may restore her subjects to her presence. As you perceive, she will be glad to know the full truth of this matter.”

  “A moment,” Kai said, suddenly regal. He turned to Irene and Evariste. “Irene?”

  Irene could hear all the undertones of his question. What do I do now? What do I tell them? How can we go in front of the queen and explain any of this?

  Irene took a moment to silently curse her luck. But she answered in her most politically neutral tones, “Naturally we will be glad to comply. We wouldn’t want to inconvenience the queen.” She smiled at Kai, trying to reassure him.

  But her stomach settled like lead. She’d failed. There was no way this could be explained without bringing the Library into it. Maybe if they were allowed to see the queen in private, then she could plead for mercy. She could explain that Qing Song had broken the rules . . . But would that actually work, if Qing Song denied everything?

  If she needed to claim all responsibility herself—to save Kai, Evariste, and the Library—then she would. But she could lose everything that she cared about in the process.

  • • •

  There was no way to measure time on the flight to the Queen of the Southern Lands’ court. Their “honour guard” had graciously taken charge of Jin Zhi and Qing Song, allowing Irene to join Evariste on Kai’s back. Irene suspected it was because Mei Feng hadn’t wanted to leave either of the two unconscious dragons in Kai’s custody for a moment longer than necessary. But at least now they were all together, with Irene perched forward on Kai’s back and Evariste behind her. Mei Feng, her subordinates, and Hu all flew at a courteous distance, allowing Irene and her friends to talk quietly and hope they might not be overheard.

  “First things first,” Irene said. “Kai, what you did with Qing Song and Jin Zhi was incredible. You didn’t get hurt, did you?”

  “Nothing to signify,” Kai rumbled. “But we should be more worried about the future.”

  “Is there some way we can get out of this before we get there?” Evariste asked. He didn’t need to define the there.

  “Even if I could manage to evade our guard, it would do severe damage to our reputation,” Kai said. “And it would leave the others with the opportunity to spread whatever story they wanted.”

  Irene considered that. “Do you think we’re being offered a chance to escape—now that we’re together—for just that reason? So that the whole affair can be blamed on us?”

  “Believe me,” Kai said, “it really isn’t that much of a chance. I wouldn’t bet money on it.”

  “Did Mei Feng’s name mean anything to you?”

  Kai turned his head slightly to one side, in a gesture that might have been uncertainty. “I can’t be sure, but she may stand at the queen’s left hand—in the same way that Li Ming does to my uncle.”

  “Meaning?” Evariste said.

  “Meaning a faithful servant who gets things done—both on and off the books,” Irene answered. “Rather as Hu is to Qing Song.” She frowned. “For Mei Feng to be here suggests that the queen was keeping a close eye on this. Kai, how serious a threat do you think there was to the world’s stability?”

  Kai hummed thoughtfully, and Irene felt it vibrate beneath her. “Possibly very serious. I have been warned that a fight like that could shake a world in its course, but I’ve never been near enough to find out.”

  “Right. That’s a positive.”

  Evariste took a deep breath behind her. “How is anything in this situation a positive? We’re all prisoners, there’s no way we can even get to the Library now, and my daughter’s still a hostage . . .”

  “It means that we did a good thing by stopping the fight,” Irene said patiently. She kept her tone level, not wanting Evariste to realize just how poor she thought their chances were. “When this comes down to explanations, we helped. At severe personal risk. Even if it might have involved some minor inconvenience for Qing Song and Jin Zhi.”

  “An inconvenience . . . You co-opted a mob boss to blast a couple of dragons out of the sky with bootleg alcohol!” Evariste growled.

  “We do the best we can with the materials available to us,” Irene said. “Evariste, try to stay calm. I’m not asking you to be optimistic. That would be unreasonable. But there may still be possibilities. And Qing Song can’t get to your daughter until we can get this sorted out.” She nodded at the still-unconscious Qing Song, where he lay on Mei Feng’s back. “I haven’t forgotten about her. Believe me, I haven’t. We . . .” An unwelcome thought struck her. “We have actually secured the book somewhere, right?”

  Evariste bit back a snort somewhere between laughter and bitterness. “I am so tempted to say no right now, just to see your face.”

  “I might have deserved that,” Irene admitted.

  “It’s safe in the Library,” Evariste said. “Room B-349. Though is it actually any use at this point?”

  Irene shrugged. “We might need it as proof to support our story.”

  “What sort of authority does the queen actually have?” Evariste asked. “Over us, and over Kai? She won’t want to get into a fight with the Library over us, will she?”

  “She has whatever authority she chooses to have,” Kai answered. “If she considers that I have offended her, then my father . . . will accept her judgement over me. These are her territories. Her will is law. Lying to her is high treason. And she might send you back to the Library. Or she might send an apology for having you executed. It depends on her final decision.”

  “But wouldn’t that start a war?” Evariste demanded.

  “Not if we’re found guilty,” Irene said.

  “So, what are we actually going to tell the queen?” Kai asked, returning to the crux of the matter.

  Irene really wished she had a good answer. She’d sworn to help Evariste get his daughter back. But she’d also said With the understanding that my duty to the Library comes above all other oaths . . .

  If she couldn’t prove Qing Song was at fault, and he or Jin Zhi counter-accused, then her options were sorely limited. She’d have to say Evariste had been a rogue agent, and possibly so had she—and take the consequences.

  “We’re going to be economical with the truth,” she finally said. “We—Kai and I—were sent to that world to find you, Evariste. While we were there we discovered the dragons fighting, and we stopped them, out of the goodness of our hearts. And if Qing Song and Jin Zhi have any sense, they won’t try to push us, because it would incriminate them just as badly. And afterwards . . .” She was surprised to hear the restrained
fury in her voice. “We contact Qing Song. We demand that he returns your daughter safe and unharmed, or the entire Library will know what he, and by extension his family, is willing to do to Librarians. And other dragons will learn that he’ll risk war to get what he wants. The book won’t be an issue any more by that point. He will hand your daughter over, or he’ll be putting his family at risk.”

  “Will that work?” Evariste asked. His tone begged to be reassured. “You said if they have any sense. What if they don’t? What if they think the only way they’ll get out of this is by blaming us?”

  “Then you both leave the talking to me. As far as possible.” Irene’s stomach was a mass of knots. She couldn’t see any way out. With no proof, and no witnesses, she might just as well be voiceless and powerless again.

  But she had to try.

  Ahead of them, Mei Feng spread her wings and called—a long note, like a trumpet soaring above a lesser orchestra of whispering strings. A rip tore in the swirling currents of blue in front of her, and she plunged through it. The escorting dragons closed in on either side, a clear direction to follow her.

  “Holy shit,” said Evariste as the view was revealed.

  Kai circled high above the land below, which was beautiful, regular, and almost too idealized. The mountains they were approaching reared up as if they’d reached the end of the world, framed by clouds and painted with snow. Directly ahead stood a fortress of concentric white walls, each one higher than the last and banded with gold. Green fields spilled out from the foot of the mountains like scattered fragments of emerald silk, bounded by the clean glitter of roads and rivers. This whole world was a place of order and control: mere humans were fragile, transient dust in the face of its power.

  Mei Feng led the way down to one of the inner courtyards, and one by one the dragons settled to the ground and took on human form. Irene could see signals being exchanged between the guards on the battlements, and she had no doubt that the queen was being informed of their arrival.

  Jin Zhi and Qing Song had finally regained consciousness. Hu was conversing quietly and rapidly with Qing Song, nodding attentively as his master spoke. He seemed almost more in control of the conversation than Qing Song.

  Jin Zhi stood alone, her eyes flicking between the different groups. Irene almost felt sorry for her, until it occurred to her to wonder why Jin Zhi wasn’t attended by her own servants. She’d been on her own throughout. Had she been planning something that she didn’t want even her servants to know?

  “I hope this inquest is going to be private,” Irene murmured to Kai as he adjusted his jacket. “Surely the queen isn’t going to want a public display until she’s decided what she wants known?”

  Kai was looking around with an air of polite interest, like any noble visitor admiring the scenery, ignoring the guards. “Some things are going to be easier to explain than others,” he said quietly. “Like me.”

  And there was another elephant in the room. There were so many elephants in the room that it was getting positively crowded. Appearing publicly in Kai’s company, as a Librarian, would not help Irene’s argument that the Library was neutral and was staying that way. Still, if this was a very private audience, Irene might be able to give their relationship its proper context . . .

  Hu broke away from Qing Song with a nod and walked over to the three of them. “Your Highness,” he said, inclining his head to Kai. Then he turned to Irene. “You had a good run, but it’s over now.”

  “I doubt that very much,” Irene said pleasantly. “I will have a great deal to say when people start asking questions.”

  “You may—but who will believe you?” He turned to Evariste and produced a black-and-white photograph from an inner pocket.

  The girl in the photo looked enough like Evariste that anyone could see they were related. Hu waited for a reaction from Evariste, then tucked the photograph away.

  “My lord’s word will outweigh yours,” Hu said to Irene. But to Irene’s surprise, my lord was said dismissively, as though Qing Song were his trained dog—his mouthpiece. As if Qing Song had been given his instructions and knew what to say. “You have stolen, you have lied, and you have committed assault on two of the queen’s servants. If the blame for this matter is placed properly—” His gaze indicated Evariste, as clear as a pointed finger. “Perhaps with a suitable confession? Or simply a lack of defence . . . Either would suffice. Do you understand me? If you want the child to live, then you will comply.”

  Irene was searching for the words to tell Hu just how wrong he was, when she saw Evariste’s face. Despair was settling in, bound up in a knot with desperation and hopelessness. All he had to do was sacrifice himself.

  And sometimes, as she knew from her own experience, that could be such an easy thing to do. The easiest choice in the world.

  “Get away,” she said to Hu, and her voice made him step back. “This man is a Librarian, and he’s not alone here.”

  “If you wish to fall with him, then you may do so,” Hu said, moving to rejoin Qing Song.

  “You were wrong,” Evariste said numbly, his voice barely audible. “This isn’t going to work. We’ve lost. Look, if I say it was my idea, then you can blame it all on me, right? It won’t be the Library’s fault—it’ll just be mine. Just promise me that you’ll make sure that she’s safe—”

  Irene grabbed his shoulders, turning him to face her. “Shut up and listen to me,” she snapped. “I am in charge here, and I am telling you that we have not lost. Give me a chance. I am asking you—no, I’m damned well ordering you not to give up. Trust me, Evariste. I am not going to surrender to Hu and play his game while we have one ounce of hope left. If we let him win on his terms, then he’s always going to have a hold over the Library. He’ll try this again further down the line. I won’t let that happen. Trust me.”

  A solid thud rang through the courtyard, and all eyes turned to the robed man standing in the central arch, who’d just rapped his staff against the ground. “Hear and attend!” he called. “Her Majesty the Queen of the Southern Lands requires your presence. Let all who stand before her speak truth, that justice may be established.”

  CHAPTER 28

  Irene and the others were escorted through the halls of the palace. The part of her that craved distraction wanted to take mental notes on the decor, the lay-out, the works of art, and the hierarchies of the passing courtiers. After all, when would she have the chance to see such a thing again?

  But her main focus was on something much more immediate, something she had only just realized. Something that cast an entirely different light on the last couple of days.

  Hu was not just Qing Song’s servant—the velvet glove over the iron hand. Hu was the brain behind Qing Song, the plotter and the intriguer. Irene was certain that Hu had been speaking on his own behalf when he threatened Evariste just now. And when Irene looked at events with that in mind, so much of it made more sense.

  Hu had been coordinating the hunt for Evariste, and then for Irene. Hu had deduced that Irene was lying, and had restrained and drugged her. And he’d been out of the room when Jin Zhi and Qing Song finally lost their tempers with each other—and things went badly wrong without him. Hu had been pulling the strings throughout, and allowing everyone to blame Qing Song. Just as Irene had been running around New York to draw people’s attention, so Hu had allowed—had always allowed—Qing Song to be the public figure while he himself did the work. Possibly Qing Song didn’t realize how much Hu was manipulating him. Hu wasn’t powerful enough or nobly born enough to hold high rank himself—but that didn’t matter, as long as he had a suitable puppet who’d listen to his suggestions.

  She’d been deceived—no, she’d let herself be deceived—because she’d disliked Qing Song, and she’d seen an echo of herself in Hu. Fellow professionals. Oh yes.

  There was something about Jin Zhi that was nagging at the back of Irene’s mind too,
but she put it off. Hu was the more immediate threat. Qing Song was a poor liar—too hot-headed to maintain the right facade—as she knew from her own experience. Events in the next few minutes might depend on whether Hu or his master was making the accusations.

  But was it true that Qing Song’s word would automatically be believed, over anything that Irene might say? If it was, then Irene and Evariste might have no chance at all. They’d have to confess personal involvement in order to save the Library’s reputation—and even that might not work. It would leave both Qing Song and Hu with far too much knowledge about the Library. And they’d still be holding Evariste’s daughter, and would be willing to use the same tactics again in the future . . .

  The Queen of the Southern Lands, Ya Yu, sat in state in her private receiving room. If this was the less impressive room, Irene wondered what the main throne room was like. But common sense told her to be grateful the situation wasn’t public enough to require its use.

  Tessellated tiles cut from reflecting stones in tones of deep green and brown covered the floor in a complex pattern. The walls were decorated with panels of carved amber. A couple of dozen other dragons stood around the room, clearly members of the nobility from the richness of their silk and brocade robes. They were all in the part-human form that Irene had seen once or twice before. The dragons here maintained a human build and height, but their skin showed scales like a snake’s, the colour of gems or precious metals. Their long, manicured nails almost resembled claws. The courtiers all wore their hair long, tied back in a single braid. And they carried themselves with an absolute authority that made their shape seem the natural, proper way to be formed. By comparison, human flesh seemed but a larval stage; weak, pitiful, and unfinished.

  Irene realized this was going to take place in front of an audience, even if it was a collection of the queen’s most trusted servants. The stakes had just gone up, and her options had grown even fewer. A private confession wasn’t an option any longer.