The room might have looked at first glance like a medieval fantasy—but it was timeless. The guards with halberds by the doors also wore efficient-looking guns at their belts, and Irene had no doubt they knew how to use them. And everything and everyone in this room, in this castle, belonged to the queen. Irene could feel her power permeating the room. Even though sunlight streamed in through the high windows, there was still somehow a feeling of being deep underground. She could imagine herself in some mine vault that reached down to abysmal depths. The weight of earth was a terrible pressure bearing down on her, making her conscious of how tiny and short-lived a thing she was, and the light seemed very far away.
With an effort she lifted her head and focused on the queen. Ya Yu was the shade of willow leaves in spring, and was robed in the same delicate light green, bordered in pale gold. She sat on a throne—or at least a highly dramatic chair—that seemed to have been carved from a single block of onyx. There was apparently no cushion.
Irene made a private mental resolution that if she ever became a queen, her throne would incorporate a cushion. Also a convenient bookcase.
Their group approached the throne, led by Mei Feng, and all bowed. Qing Song, Jin Zhi, and Hu behind them all made a full obeisance, going down on one knee and pressing right fist against left shoulder. Kai made a deep bow of respect. Irene and Evariste bowed as best they could.
Ya Yu gestured for them to rise: her attention settled first on Qing Song and Jin Zhi. “I had not expected to see either of you without the book that I requested. It was to be proof of your fitness for office,” she said. Her voice was sweet and low, but it filled the room and hummed in Irene’s bones the way Mei Feng’s roar had done earlier. “I desire an explanation.”
Mei Feng took a step forward. “Your Majesty, I approached the target world with my servants when two dragons were observed in open battle. And we intercepted this group leaving. They have not yet offered an acceptable answer as to their actions or motivations.”
Ya Yu looked at the six of them. “Perhaps one of you would care to speak?” she said mildly.
Under the queen’s gaze, Irene’s throat seemed to lock up in terror, and she had the urge to babble everything she knew. She managed to look away, and glanced at Hu out of the corner of her eye. She’d expected him to advance his case first, then wait for Evariste to back him up. But he was silent, standing behind Qing Song in perfect passivity.
Then Irene realized that Hu couldn’t speak instead of his lord. It just wasn’t appropriate here. The queen had requested answers from junior nobles of her court. It wasn’t a servant’s place to put himself forward and offer an explanation.
As the silence stretched out, it became clear that no one was keen to speak first, and the tension was building. But silence wouldn’t save them. If the queen felt like resolving matters by declaring a universal off with their heads, she had the authority to do it.
So if Irene wanted to take control of the explanations, it had to be now.
“Your Majesty,” she said, stepping forward. “I request permission to speak.”
Kai twitched very slightly, one hand moving as if he wanted to hold her back. She knew him well enough to read his face. He looked as if he was preparing himself for a catastrophe. All she could think was Trust me.
“Do so, and identify yourself,” Ya Yu commanded.
“My name is Irene, and I am a servant of the Library,” Irene said. “As is Evariste here, who may be considered”—if one squinted really hard in a poor light, she thought—“to be under my authority. I was originally sent to investigate his current location and activities.”
Ya Yu nodded. “Continue.”
“When I arrived in the New York in question, I located him and heard his story. He had been imposed upon by dragons.”
“In what way?” Ya Yu demanded. Her disapproval was clear in her voice, and echoes of it were visible in the courtiers’ faces. But whether it was disapproval of Irene or of the accused, Irene couldn’t tell. Out of the corner of her eye, Irene could see Qing Song standing a few paces to her right with his face set like stone, clearly ready to deny anything and everything.
“Evariste returned to his world of origin, intending to visit his old mentor,” Irene said. “But he came home to find that the man was dead of a heart attack, and Evariste’s daughter had been stolen by a member of your court.” She turned her head to stare accusingly at Qing Song and Hu, ignoring the look of betrayal that Evariste was giving her. He stepped forward to interject, but Kai pulled him back. “He was blackmailed into compliance by a threat to his daughter, and ordered to find a certain text. Ultimately he fled from those involved, but he was too afraid for his daughter to risk returning to the Library. While I was trying to resolve this, I was assaulted myself, and the nobles here—Qing Song and Jin Zhi—engaged in open battle above the city. We subdued them and removed them from that world in order to save civilian lives.”
Ya Yu tilted her head like a raptor considering a prey’s last desperate attempts at escape, and the tension in the room tightened. “You make serious accusations against one of my servants,” she said. “I trust that you can justify them.” She glanced at Qing Song.
“This is all highly emotional and poetic,” Qing Song said curtly. “Your Majesty, this woman has clearly learned her trade from the books she has stolen. She can spin a lie at a moment’s notice. I ask her for proof of her story.”
“Did you or did you not employ the man Evariste?” Ya Yu asked.
Qing Song squared his shoulders. “He came to me and offered his services.”
A burst of muttering rose from the courtiers at his words. In a less well-regulated court, it might have been uproar. Here there was murmuring and short fierce gestures, and even then Irene could sense the shock and turmoil behind it. This was a place of law and order—and Qing Song had just admitted to breaking the rules.
The queen’s eyes went wide with anger, and as she spoke everyone else fell silent. “He did what? And you accepted?”
“Your Majesty,” Qing Song said, a hint of desperation in his voice, “I know the rules of your challenge forbade us to seek their help, but surely there is no harm in taking a gift when it is placed in front of you? Only the foolish general ignores the benefits of chance.”
“Mm.” The queen smoothed the folds of her robe. Irene couldn’t read her expression. Was she approving this strategy as original and effective? Or was she merely deciding how serious the punishment should be? “And the rest of the story?”
“The woman has it the wrong way round,” Qing Song said. He smiled coldly at Irene. “The man Evariste approached me seeking employment, in order to gain wealth to provide for his child. Apparently their Library does not pay well. He then walked out halfway through his task and tried to blackmail me for more money, threatening to reveal his involvement to bring disgrace upon me. Perhaps I shouldn’t have agreed to his offer in the first place, but he was very persuasive.”
It was a smooth lie. There were no obvious holes in it—apart from the exact location of Evariste’s daughter—and it was indeed coming down to a case of he said against she said.
Ya Yu turned her attention to Evariste. “It seems the fulcrum of this case lies upon you,” she said. “Speak.”
Evariste’s breath caught in his throat and he swayed on his feet, closing his eyes for a moment. Irene knew exactly how hard it was to stand under the weight of a dragon king or queen’s regard. She wanted to reach out to support him, but she was afraid it might be a breach of protocol.
Then she thought, Damn protocol. It was harder than she’d expected to raise her hand under the weight of the queen’s gaze, as if she were forcing herself to move through the pressure of multiple gravities. She touched Evariste’s shoulder and felt the warmth of his body under his battered suit. Her squeeze tried to convey to him, Trust me, don’t give up yet.
Evariste swallowed and opened his eyes again. Despair was written on his face. He couldn’t turn away from Ya Yu. “Your Majesty,” he said, barely audible, “I have nothing to say.”
The murmurs from the bystanders were louder this time. Irene could catch the words put to the question and forced to answer.
The queen had to raise her hand for silence, and the growing wrath in her gaze suggested that she was displeased by such disorder in her court—and by those who had brought it there. “Then we must look to our other witnesses,” she said, turning to Jin Zhi. “What have you to say to these serious allegations?”
“I know nothing of these accusations,” Jin Zhi said calmly, but a pulse jumped in her throat. Was she weighing up the benefits of supporting Qing Song against the possibility of her own death if she lost the challenge? “I had been having little success in my own hunt for the book, though I have not yet explored all possible avenues. I chose to call upon Qing Song during my search, and I admit that during a discussion of current events we were both roused to anger. I am ashamed that we required intercession to remind us of proper behaviour.”
So that makes all of us lying so far, or at least eliding the truth, Irene judged. Multiple counts of high treason. But Qing Song and Jin Zhi are hanging together. Or at least she’s not putting a noose around his throat by declaring she knew he’d hired a Librarian . . .
The note of uncertainty Irene had felt earlier finally crystallized. When we met for the very first time, in York, Jin Zhi already knew Qing Song had hired a Librarian. But how did she know—who told her? This was Qing Song’s biggest advantage, his most important secret. If anyone found out about it, he and his family would be disgraced for breaking the challenge’s rules. Were Jin Zhi’s spies really that good? And if they were, why didn’t she also know Evariste had escaped? And why has Jin Zhi been hiding her knowledge, rather than gloating about what she’d found out?
“And you,” Ya Yu said, focusing her gaze on Kai. “Youngest son of the Dragon King of the Eastern Ocean. I trust that you will present my compliments to your father when next you see him.”
Kai bowed again.
The courtesies over, Ya Yu’s tone grew sharper. “I am displeased to find you involved in this matter. It borders on interference in another monarch’s realm. Can you explain yourself?”
“Your Majesty, I have taken no sides in this matter!” Kai protested. “I have no reason to reproach myself.”
“Let us hope not,” the queen said. “You are old enough to receive an adult’s punishment. Tell me your perspective upon the matter.”
“I can only comment on events I witnessed myself,” Kai said carefully. “I would not wish to put forward my conjectures and claim they were the truth.”
“We would expect no less from the son of Ao Guang,” Ya Yu agreed. “Continue.”
“It is true that the Librarian Irene visited this world because she was concerned about her colleague,” Kai said. He gave no visible sign of nervousness, affecting the calm of innocent truthfulness. “I was present when he told us he’d been blackmailed—by threats to his child, and to his mentor’s reputation. It is true that at the time he accused Qing Song and his servant Hu. I did not personally encounter Qing Song while I was present in that world, except when I intervened in the challenge between him and Jin Zhi.”
“So you heard the man’s lies as well,” Qing Song said. “That does not make them truth.”
Kai turned to look at Qing Song. “It is also true that someone administered a throat-paralysis drug to the Librarian Irene. I would be interested in knowing the facts there.”
Ya Yu tapped her clawed finger against the arm of her throne. “No challenge may be given or taken during these proceedings. I desire the truth, not blood. Not yet, in any case . . .” Her voice rang in the air and hummed in the stone and amber, thickening through the room like an oppressive chord of music. For a moment nobody stirred.
Then Qing Song shrugged. There was an unpleasant gleam in his eyes. “I admit that I administered the drug to the woman, after it became clear she had concealed her identity and insulted me.”
“I admit that I failed to give my true name on first introduction,” Irene said coldly. “I do not recall insulting you. I did refuse your offer of employment.”
“You misunderstood my words at the time,” Qing Song said firmly. “No doubt because you are already bought and paid for.” He turned to Kai. “Tell me, what do you pay your Librarian? They are clearly for hire. I can see why Her Majesty wished us to avoid dealing with such petty, venal creatures during this challenge.”
Irene bit back a furious comment justifying their relationship. It wouldn’t be believed anyway. She could feel the other dragons looking at her and Evariste consideringly, assessing their worth. Again she was reminded that they were entirely within Ya Yu’s sphere of power. The queen could decide to simply hush up the whole business by having all three of them disappear—even Kai. And none of them had the power to stop it.
Kai took his time before answering, as a lump of ice congealed in Irene’s guts. “There appears to have been a misunderstanding here. Your Majesty, will you permit me to explain?”
“Speak, and be to the point,” Ya Yu said. “I grow impatient.” Her words sent a chill down Irene’s back. But over and above that, she was dreading what Kai was going to say. There was something too formal in his voice and manner, in his glance towards Irene—as if he was already distancing himself from her. An unexpected chasm seemed to be widening between them. No, she thought, don’t sacrifice yourself for me . . .
“When I heard of this mysterious Library some years ago, I was fascinated,” Kai began. “I knew the Library was scrupulously neutral and that I would not be admitted, given my true nature. So I put myself in the way of one of their representatives and pretended to be no more than human. I was dishonest. I admit it, and I can only plead that I was young and foolish. When I was assigned to work with this Librarian, she believed that I was only a human, and I said nothing to disabuse her.”
Irene could feel a ball of furious contradictions gathering in her throat. She knew that the older Librarians had identified Kai early on for what he was, even if he hadn’t known that they knew. And she herself had realized Kai was a dragon within the first few days of working with him . . .
“When Irene became aware of my true nature, naturally she was disturbed,” Kai went on.
Which happened several months back, Irene thought. Neatly done. But she could sense there was worse coming. The train of inevitability was bearing down on her and she was tied to the tracks.
“She is a reliable and honourable Librarian, who has always done her best to serve the Library’s interests. And now that it is no longer possible for me to deny my true nature, or to claim to her that I am human, I realize she can no longer call me ‘apprentice.’ She knows her duty to the Library and its neutrality.” Kai turned to Irene. “So for the sake of our friendship, before you are required to renounce me, I will remove the necessity from you. I regret that I can no longer serve as an apprentice Librarian.”
She had seen what was coming. And she admired the way he’d done it—gracefully, intelligently, taking the blame and doing his best to leave her reputation untarnished. But all she could think as he finished speaking was No, don’t do this.
But he had.
And now the only thing she could do for both of them was to accept it, just as he had.
Irene looked Kai in the face and saw the echoes of dragon-red in his eyes, even though he was still in his human form. “I accept your resignation,” she said, “and I will inform my superiors of your true nature—and the reason why you have chosen to leave the Library.”
There had to be something more she could say. Something that wouldn’t ruin his careful separation between himself and the Library. Something that would tell Kai that she was grateful, that she trusted him in a way
she’d never trusted anyone else. And that she didn’t want to lose him.
But here at one end of creation, among a court of dragons, there was nothing she could say that could keep him by her side.
Her throat ached with unshed tears, with bitterness and fury and loss, and her fingers traced the scars on her palms. “I appreciate your honesty,” she said to Kai. Something that he would understand, and that nobody else here would—because she knew how much of the truth had gone unsaid in his statement. She only hoped that he would know all the things she might never have the chance to say. That she cared for him. And how much she would miss him.
Ya Yu brought her hands together sharply. “Very well! Son of Ao Guang, I hope that you will apologize to your father for your lack of honesty. But this is a good argument in favour of the Library and its standards. I’m inclined to believe that as an institution it maintains the neutrality it has always claimed.”
Meaning—Irene translated through her bitterness—that this is an acceptable political excuse and nobody here will be allowed to debate it. And she’s only talking about the Library as a whole. Not about individuals. Not about Evariste and me.
Irene had thought she’d been angry before. Now she was livid. She had lost something—someone—whom she cared about very much indeed. She hoped that Qing Song, Jin Zhi, and Hu were prepared to pay, because the bill was about to be extremely large.
The queen turned to Irene. “And as for you, Irene, servant of the Library. Young Kai here must be a good actor for you to have been so thoroughly deceived. Perhaps you have also been lied to in other matters?” Her gaze flicked to Evariste. “If you will release your junior to our authority, we will see that he is questioned and establish the truth.”
Again there was that thrum of power through the room. Out of the corner of her eye, Irene saw the guards by the entrance stiffen to full attention. She could feel the required response rising to her lips under the focus of the queen’s attention, in a mixture of fear and obedience. She should be willing to hand Evariste over. She should be glad to get away safely and with the Library’s reputation intact. She would have fulfilled her mission.
The Lost Plot Page 30