The Dark Archive (The Invisible Library Novel) Read online

  “I’ve told you before, sir, you will be remembered as long as my father’s kingdom lasts.” Shan Yuan spoke with affection, clearly repeating an old reassurance.

  “That’s not as reassuring as you might think.” Lord Zhang Yi was staring into emptiness. His eyes were on Kai, but his gaze passed through him. “Not at all.”

  Kai remembered a recently discovered painting that had suggested there was more to dragon history than the dragon monarchs ever wished to reveal. Could it be that a few of the very old dragons, like Lord Zhang Yi, knew something about this?

  Lord Zhang Yi pulled himself together, his eyes refocusing. “In the meantime, yes, we must take advantage. Nothing that would make us as vulnerable as exchanging students or sharing private research papers, of course. But we should certainly be negotiating with any Fae experts in the field who are willing to talk. Data on the latest technical advances in high-chaos worlds would be useful intelligence. As would anything on new developments, Fae open-source systems, their protocols, whether or not their worlds are using block-chain technology or Bitcoin . . . Don’t look so surprised, boy.”

  Kai hadn’t thought he’d looked surprised, but apparently he was an open book to his elders. “But are they going to want to hand over that sort of information, sir?”

  “Of course not. However, they’re certainly going to want us to hand it over. So they’ll have to approach us somehow. I imagine there will be some complicated dancing around in the middle before anyone on either side admits it.”

  “So should I expect the Fae treaty representative to be approaching me?” This was actually sounding very intriguing. The Fae would have to make some concessions, after all, and the prospect of seeing how advanced some of the high-chaos worlds were . . . His lord father would be making the decisions, of course, but Kai would still be on the front lines for any bargaining. This would be fun.

  “Yes. And you can pass all their queries directly to Shan Yuan here.”

  Kai’s heart sank at the thought of being cut out of the deals. Hand over everything interesting to Shan Yuan of all people? There has to be some way round this . . . “I’m sure my lord father will be sending you the information himself, sir.”

  Lord Zhang Yi twitched one arthritic hand in disdain. “His Majesty Ao Guang has a great deal to oversee, and I am his technology advisor. You will be doing us all a favour by allowing us to triage any Fae advances directly. We’ll then pass on just the relevant details for His Majesty’s attention. Naturally, closing any subsequent negotiations will remain with you.”

  “Of course, sir,” Kai said, reassured. “It will be my honour.”

  Lord Zhang Yi stroked his beard. “Good. Excellent. Your brother tells me that you’ve worked in our field yourself. You may be worth considering as a future student.”

  Kai wasn’t going to delude himself that this possibility was due to his talent alone. Apparently Lord Zhang Yi played politics and exchanged favours just as much as any other powerful figure. Still, that didn’t mean it wasn’t a genuine offer, and it was something he’d very much wanted . . . at one point. Right at this precise moment, with Irene as a lover, Vale as a friend, and his current position to enjoy, it was a choice that he’d rather postpone. He ducked his head and mumbled thanks.

  “Do you underrate yourself? Remember that talent can set its own terms.” Lord Zhang Yi gestured at the room around them. “I may not be of royal blood, but I have the respect of my students. This world is my home, and if I feel like moving my establishment to the Alps, or Tibet, or Egypt, or Vietnam, then I simply give orders and it is done. In some respects I’m as well-informed as royalty, with their spymasters.”

  He paused. “There’s actually something else I meant to discuss with you too. You must forgive an old man his lapses in memory, boy. It happens to all of us.”

  Kai would believe that one of dragon-kind’s most renowned geniuses had memory lapses when he believed his father was having an affair with a Fae. Or that Irene had gone to sleep without a book next to her bed. He made the appropriate polite noises and waited with interest.

  “There’s something going on out there.” Lord Zhang Yi delivered the statement as though it was earth-shattering news, then sat back, looking pleased with himself.

  Kai bit back at least three variants of There’s always something going on out there and settled for “Would you please explain, sir?”

  He stroked his beard again. “Unfortunately I don’t see the specifics. I only see indications. I am aware of equipment being sourced on various different worlds—superconductor technology, servers capable of handling yottabyte-level information—and then simply dropping off the radar. I hear about experts in artificial intelligence vanishing from those worlds. I am becoming aware of something perceptible only by its absence. It worries me.”

  “How do you know all this, sir?” Kai asked.

  “I know people,” Lord Zhang Yi said dismissively. “High-level people. I read their emails.”

  Kai wondered whether that meant I read emails from them or I have access to their email accounts—and they are blissfully ignorant of that fact. The statement’s ambiguity was rather frightening. “I thought that worlds with a high technology level were more likely to be high-order, sir. Just as worlds with a high magic level are more likely to be high-chaos. There are anomalies, of course . . . but surely the Fae can’t be ahead of us.”

  “The only reason they could be is because they cheat,” Shan Yuan said flatly. “Or sometimes, their environment does the cheating for them.”

  Lord Zhang Yi gave Shan Yuan an approving look. “Well put. A high-chaos environment favours impossible ‘rags to riches’ success stories, as well as incredible failures. The bigger the rise or fall, the better the story. So it favours impossible computing—leaps of logic which no sane person would make, fortunate discoveries that go against all sensible principles of programming and engineering, and convenient . . . guesses.” He spoke the word guesses with a contempt worthy of Vale on such matters. “The laws of science remain the same. But given equal research opportunities in a high-chaos world versus a high-order world, Fae researchers may reach their goal sooner. This is simply because it’s appropriate to the story. The hero makes their discovery at a crucial moment in time.”

  “Of course they have twice as many destructive failures as we do, for the same reason but in reverse—the story demanded a tragic ending.” Shan Yuan clearly felt these were thoroughly well-deserved. “But you see the problem, Kai? A Fae in a high-chaos world may hit upon a new one-chance-in-a-million discovery, because their personal fiction gives them that crucial stroke of luck or invention. But that one success story could be very dangerous for us.”

  “I’d never thought of it that way,” Kai said soberly. He made a small bow to Lord Zhang Yi. “Thank you for alerting me to the danger. How can we guard against this?”

  “One of our advantages is that they do not cooperate as we do. All dragons work as one, under the guidance and leadership of our monarchs.” Was there just a shade of cynicism to Lord Zhang Yi’s voice? “If the Fae have found a project to unite them, to share discoveries . . . well, then I am concerned. If these disappearances, this new technology, these advances in artificial intelligence, are all somehow tied together, then we need to know more. Some Fae may believe in this truce. But others would break it without hesitation if they thought they had a superior weapon—and the opportunity to take us by surprise.”

  “This may touch on the reason I’m here,” Kai said slowly. “My lord—”

  “You may address me as Uncle,” Lord Zhang Yi said genially.

  “Uncle, there have been several attempts to kidnap or assassinate me—and the Librarian treaty representative. The most recent one was just yesterday.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard of the Librarian. Sensible, for a human. But how is this linked to the greater problem?”

  “
While she was investigating the assassination attempt, she encountered Lord Guantes, a Fae who kidnapped me in the past.” Kai felt himself flushing at the thought from both rage and humiliation. “She stole this laptop from him, on a high-technology world, which was why I came here. I wanted any useful data it contained. I’m not saying that the Fae assassination attempts are necessarily connected to the plot you suspect, but . . .” He shrugged and quoted an old maxim. “Clamour in the east, then attack in the west.” A classic stratagem: cause a major distraction and then subtly pursue your goals. And the treaty representatives dying, most likely killing the treaty too, would certainly be a major distraction.

  “I will look at this laptop immediately,” Lord Zhang Yi declared.

  Kai tried not to look too triumphant as he placed the laptop on the table. “Thank you, Uncle.”

  “It may all be part of a greater conspiracy,” Lord Zhang Yi said. He leaned forward like a predator about to strike. The room felt arid and sterile, offering no cover from his gaze, no protection from his attention. “We must investigate everything. We can trust nothing. Remember that, boy. Nothing. We may be able to use Fae information, but we must never trust it. If the Fae are assembling some great creation, fuelled with their powers of narrative and story, then we must be ready to stand against it—or exploit it.”

  “But you said yourself that some of them believed in the truce, Uncle,” Kai protested unwisely.

  Lord Zhang Yi snorted and drew back—and again, Kai had the impression of a hunting owl, mantling wings and wide, furious eyes. “You must learn to recognize the difference between philosophy and practical reality. That will come with time. For the moment, you are dismissed—both of you. I should have the information for you tomorrow, Prince Kai.”

  As Kai rose to complete the process of polite farewells, an icy thought nibbled at the edges of his mind. The future might demand that both sides change, if the truce held and they were to build something permanent. And how much would the older dragons, like Lord Zhang Yi—or like Kai’s own father—be able to change?

  He forced the thought away. The truce had only been in place for a few months. The future was still to be built.

  * * *

  * * *

  If the Fae are trying to develop new technology, do you think their magic will be a problem as well?” Kai asked. They were walking around the edge of the compound, taking the air together. Shan Yuan had been silent most of the way, brows drawn in thought.

  “Magic? No.” Shan Yuan seemed relieved to have a question he could answer. “That’s too dependant on the structure of the particular world where it operates. It can be dangerous if used by someone skilled in local practices. But it shouldn’t be an issue if this is a conspiracy across multiple worlds. If you’re interested in that area, though, you should talk to one of our lord uncle Ao Qin’s children or grandchildren—they’re the family’s experts.”

  “I’ll bear that in mind.” Shan Yuan seemed in a far better mood now than earlier. Quite possibly the most pleasant mood that Kai had ever known him to be in—which said a great deal about their relationship. “Elder brother, some of what was said at that meeting concerned me.”

  Shan Yuan eyed him sidelong, the sunset light burning in his eyes. “You’ve impressed me favourably with your behaviour so far. Don’t disappoint me now.”

  “It’s the possibility of technology exchange.” He decided some honesty might be a good idea. “I’m not sure I have the background to fully assess the implications of Fae approaches on that front. Should I worry about this? Ask for additional staff or assistants, perhaps? What if I miss an important clue?”

  “Be worried about the Fae, and chaos, and people trying to kill you,” Shan Yuan snapped. “Don’t get caught up in minor details.”

  “But if any approaches concerning technology come through treaty channels—should I notify Lord Zhang Yi and our father about everything that seems relevant?”

  “As Lord Zhang Yi said, I’ll take care of them,” his brother said impatiently. “Send them to me and I’ll forward anything relevant to our lord father.”

  Then Shan Yuan drew to a stop, lowering his voice and catching Kai’s arm. “Kai, I have studied here for over seventy years now, and Uncle Zhang Yi is my teacher and master. I have nothing but respect and affection for him. Current times are unstable, and this plot—this possible plot,” he corrected himself, “has disturbed him. Is it any surprise if he wants tighter control over this sort of information? Things will return to normal again soon enough. Just behave yourself and do as you are told.”

  If he wants tighter control over this information—or if you do? Kai thought. He trusted his brother absolutely in one respect: Shan Yuan was unfailingly loyal to their father. There was no way he’d betray Ao Guang—as their sister Indigo had done. But that didn’t mean he lacked ambition. He had his own goals. But what if these conflicted with the things Kai cared about?

  CHAPTER 12

  Night had fallen; the streets of London were full of shadows, and the rooftops even more so. The slates were wet and slippery under Vale’s feet, inviting accidents. The streetlamps that burned dimly below were suns, orbited by the night-dwelling citizens of London’s underworld. Some stayed close to the comforting lights to display their wares or to seek safety. Others kept their distance to avoid exposure.

  Vale could feel the heat emanating from the attic window beside him, even though the room’s owner had insulated it with dark cloth and layers of padding. This was confirmation that his information had been correct. He also wasn’t surprised by the multiple locks or the hidden poison-needle trap. Those too were entirely in keeping with the person who lived here. Silently, he opened the window and let himself drop through.

  He landed with a faint thump—a squelch, even—on the well-watered soil that had been spread across the floor. He’d landed between two rows of hellebore, their five-petalled white flowers facing upwards like stars. The entire attic had been converted into a forcing-house for the owner’s favourite varieties of plants. Ether-lamps blazed from the rafters, keeping the place well-lit, and heaters stood along the walls. Like the greenhouses at Kew Gardens, the air was scented with moist greenery—or perhaps tainted might be a more appropriate word, given the type of plants cultivated here.

  Vale headed towards the door, taking care not to step on the plants. There was no point in aggravating their owner more than necessary, or destroying future evidence. But as he reached the door it swung open, and the house’s owner faced him.

  Her eyes widened in shock and one dainty hand went to her throat. She was in a comfortable-looking hyacinth-blue tea-gown, as might be expected for a woman of her class at home of an evening. A lacy shawl covered her shoulders. Ash-blonde ringlets were caught up in a deceptively simple style, and her round face was the picture of innocent vulnerability. “Who are you?” she gasped. “What are you doing here?”

  “My name is Peregrine Vale, madam, as you are perfectly aware,” Vale said. “I advise you against using the pistol under your shawl or the blade in your sleeve. It would be extremely difficult for you to explain my corpse’s presence here—and fatal, if I may choose an appropriate word, to your line of work.”

  She was an excellent actress. The flicker of calculation in her eyes was barely perceptible. “I refuse to believe you’re Peregrine Vale. The greatest detective in London wouldn’t just show up in my attic like this. You’re some sort of burglar—and I insist that you leave right this minute, or I’ll call the police!”

  “Spare me the breathless histrionics,” Vale advised. “Calling the police would be inconvenient for both of us. A few minutes of conversation would be a great deal more profitable—and then I will leave you in peace to start packing.”

  This time the narrowing of her eyes was quite definite, however much she tried to hide it. “Packing? Why should I do that?”

  “Claribelle Houndsto
n,” Vale said, turning away from her to stroll down a narrow path between the lines of herbs and flowers. “Or should I call you Lucy Windermere? Or Ethel James. There’s also Percival Felixton, John Brookes, and several others—not to mention your foreign aliases. I will address you as madam out of courtesy, but I’m forced to admit that I am uncertain of your original gender or name.” A fact that galled him. He turned to face her. “You are extremely efficient at covering your tracks. I must applaud the fact that you choose your aliases at random, rather than according to some personal theme or preference. Very few people can avoid that—however much they may consciously try.”

  She cocked her head thoughtfully, like a bird trying to decide whether a worm would taste as good as it looked. “Tell me, Mr. Vale, does your sister know I’m living here?”

  “Who do you think gave me your address?” He hoped his sister would never consider employing this woman—but his sister did work for the British government.

  “Drat,” Claribelle Houndston said. “Very well. Clearly there’s something you want, or you wouldn’t be here. Who’s my new ‘client’?”

  “I’m not hiring you to assassinate anyone,” Vale said curtly.

  “No? I’m sure there are a few people in London whose removal would be convenient for you.”

  “Madam, you seem to have misinterpreted my position. I am a detective, not some . . . Napoleon of crime.”

  “In that case, I have absolutely no idea what you’re doing here,” she said. “And do close the window behind you. After all, as you’ve pointed out, I need to start packing if my location is known.”

  Vale strolled towards her, ducking under some trailing fronds of wisteria. “What I’m after, madam, is information.”