The Mortal Word Page 4

  There was a shocked—or possibly thoughtful—moment of silence. Kai opened his mouth. Then he shut it again. Finally he said, “While the personal agenda seems obvious, I wouldn’t have expected any Fae to be so stupid. Unless they actually wanted to cause a breakdown in negotiations.”

  Irene was conscious of how large a concession that was from Kai, who had absolutely no reason to like the Fae personally, and whose lifelong antipathy towards them gave him every excuse to think the worst. “I’m guessing any Librarians on the spot stressed that point heavily.”

  Bradamant nodded. “Kostchei—he’s one of our lead arbitrators—said that they managed to talk His Majesty out of anything immediate. His Majesty being Ao Ji, head of the dragon contingent. Kostchei promised on behalf of the Library that we’d investigate, as the neutral party, and find the murderer.”

  “And who put Vale’s name forward?” Irene asked. She was torn between pride that they’d come to him and concern for Vale himself. There was no way that this could be described as safe—for Vale, or for his world, if things went wrong . . .

  “That I don’t know,” Bradamant said, so smoothly that Irene was sure she was lying. “But I was told to fetch him as soon as possible.”

  Vale frowned. “You say the murder was discovered this morning? Or rather, yesterday, since we’re past midnight already?”

  Irene could see his point. It did seem a curiously long delay.

  Bradamant put down her empty glass and spread her hands. “I know we should have reacted faster. But first the senior Librarians present had to decide on a course of action. And then they had to negotiate who’d be doing the investigation—besides Vale—with the parties involved.”

  Vale’s eyebrows rose. “Besides me . . . ?” he said flatly.

  “It wasn’t easy,” Bradamant said quickly. “Everyone wanted their own people looking into it. In the end it was thrashed out into a three-person team who’d be assisting you, one person from each group.” She sighed. “I know it sounds as if they spent hours talking rather than actually doing anything practical. But it took that long to come to an agreement.”

  Vale shrugged. “I am not unfamiliar with politically awkward situations. I can work with this, as long as it is understood by all parties that the observers aren’t to get in my way.”

  “Well, at least one of them should suit you.” Bradamant nodded towards Irene. “The Librarian member of the team is Irene here.”

  “Me?” Irene said, then felt foolish. Apparently some responses were hardwired into the human brain, right up there with this isn’t what it looks like when caught with an open safe and a stolen book. Her second reaction was pure relief that she’d have some influence here—be able to help Vale, to protect Vale, and to actually do something to help sort out this disaster. The more cynical third reaction was to wonder why her. “Surely they’d have wanted someone more senior on the job. And I don’t just mean the Librarians who’ve been masterminding this, I mean all factions. I may be competent, but I’m still junior.”

  “No doubt the Librarians believe you’ll be able to sway my judgement, should it prove expedient in some way,” Vale remarked, proving that he was just as cynical as Irene. “Or they think having you around will convince me to accept the case.”

  “But you are accepting it, aren’t you?” Bradamant demanded. She clearly didn’t like the idea that Vale might even consider saying no.

  “I am taking it under consideration.” Vale steepled his fingers and regarded his nails thoughtfully. “Were all three factions required to approve all the team members?”

  A nasty thought trickled into Irene’s mind, spreading like a cloud of ink in water. “Kai isn’t the dragon representative, is he?”

  Kai straightened in his chair. “But I’m the logical candidate!” he protested.

  “How did you deduce that?” Bradamant asked Irene wryly.

  “You’d have said if he was.” Irene put down her still-full glass of brandy. “Besides—forgive me, Kai—the only logical reason for your uncle to choose you as dragon representative would be if he thought you could influence Vale.” Kai was a very young dragon, after all, and even if he was the son of one of the dragon kings, he was the youngest son, and Irene had heard a number of other dragons describe him as “low-born” on his mother’s side. She hadn’t asked for an explanation, but it didn’t seem a recommendation under the current circumstances.

  That didn’t mean that she was happy to be going into this without Kai. Far from it. But perhaps there were ways around it . . .

  Bradamant apparently took Irene’s comment as agreement with the situation. “I’m sorry, Kai,” she said. “But I hadn’t even expected to find you here. According to Irene’s report, you’d stopped working with her. I don’t even know what you are doing here.” Her glance towards Irene promised later pointed questions.

  “Strongrock is visiting me,” Vale put in before Kai could declare his absolute freedom to be anywhere he felt like. “Can you tell me who the dragon or Fae representatives are, Madam Bradamant?”

  “No. But they should be meeting us in Paris, at our hotel. I’m assuming they’ll be competent.”

  But competent at what? Irene wondered. Competent investigators? Or competent politicians who’ll just want to cover this up and make sure the treaty gets signed? Unless their goal is for it not to be signed. And if I’m being honest with myself, what’s actually more important—the crime or the treaty?

  First things first. Get the facts, then decide what to do next. And hope that there is a next.

  “And what are the other possible motives for the victim’s murder?” Vale asked.

  “What do you mean?” Bradamant said.

  Vale gestured impatiently. “Do not attempt innocence, madam. It doesn’t suit you. We’ve all agreed it would be extremely stupid for any member of the Fae peace-seeking faction to commit a murder like this. But what about those who don’t want peace? And what has been suggested as a motive?”

  “I didn’t want to prejudice you,” Bradamant said stubbornly. “And I’ve probably already said more than I should in front of Kai.”

  Kai’s jaw set in lines very similar to Bradamant’s—though neither of them, Irene thought, would have welcomed her pointing it out. “I’m of the opinion you haven’t said enough,” Kai replied.

  Irene rose to her feet. “Kai,” she said. “Bradamant has a point. This is Vale’s case to investigate. Perhaps we’d both better leave the room for a moment, in case she has something that she wants to tell him. She is his client, after all. And you and I can discuss where you’re going after this.”

  For a long moment Kai stared at Irene. Then he stood. “As you wish,” he said. “My coat’s downstairs. I’ll see you all later. Vale, I hope that you can resolve this situation.”

  “It has its interesting points,” Vale said. His glance to Irene suggested that he knew exactly what she had in mind and that he wasn’t going to stop her. Instead he leaned forward towards Bradamant, beckoning her to continue. “Motives—” he began.

  Irene led Kai down the stairs to just inside the front door—and safely out of Bradamant’s earshot, as long as they kept their voices down—before turning to him. “I want you there,” she said softly. “Vale needs you there. And I think your uncle could use your help in Paris. But do you think you can actually support a peace treaty like this?”

  In the near darkness, Kai’s face was troubled. “There was a time when I would have said no,” he answered quietly. “The Fae are creatures of chaos, and they aren’t healthy for humanity—or anyone else. But I am prepared to consider a non-aggression pact, if they are willing to abide by it. And if my lord uncle Ao Ji is in favour of it—he of all people!—then I can follow his lead.”

  “He isn’t usually in favour of such things?” Irene guessed.

  “Of all my uncles, he would be the most strongly
set against it. He’s never made a secret of his opinions. He loathes the Fae. He considers them a pollution that endangers all human beings—and we consider it a duty to protect those humans who dwell in our realms. He would like to see the Fae scoured from the surface of every world they’ve touched.” Kai shrugged. “But perhaps he’s decided that confinement is an acceptable strategy. And if he’s willing to negotiate it, then I can do no less. So what have you got in mind?”

  Irene felt her lips quirking into a smile. He knew her quite well by now. “Since you clearly know him reasonably well, could you realistically feel a sudden need to visit your uncle?”

  “Unlikely but not unrealistic,” Kai judged. “Of course, the moment I turn up, people are going to suspect collusion.”

  “Plausible deniability,” Irene said firmly. “Try to look innocent. Try really, really hard. Besides, if your uncle thinks that you might be able to exert influence on Vale, he’s likely to want you to stay.”

  “You think that he’ll want to affect the outcome of the investigation?”

  “Your uncle is a ruling monarch. He isn’t going to throw away a possible tool, even if he doesn’t end up using it. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Kai nodded. “And I can make sure you get reliable information, once I’m there. Or deal with any of my kind who might be trying to sow dissension. That was why you marched me out of there right now, wasn’t it? So that I can get there as soon as possible and already be there when you turn up?”

  “Pretty much,” Irene admitted. “That whole plausible deniability thing. And I suspect Bradamant may not want to admit how much she’s already told you. We’ll see.” She knew that Kai—like all dragons—could travel between worlds to a person he knew well, wherever that person was. He’d probably reach that world long before she and Vale did, since they’d have to travel through the Library to get there. “Play it by ear,” she instructed. “And try to keep your options open. Is anyone expecting you to be anywhere else?”

  “My father’s servant Tian Shu had written to say he’d call on me,” Kai admitted. “I think he wants more details about the recent business in America. But I think I can get away with avoiding that for a while . . .”

  “If you’re sure it won’t be an issue,” Irene said. “I don’t want you getting into trouble.”

  “It’s my decision to make. And I thought the two of us weren’t supposed to be teacher and student any more. Or superior and inferior.”

  Irene flushed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Some habits die hard.”

  “I’d be a fool not to listen to you.” He caught her by the shoulders and pulled her close, brushing a kiss against her forehead. “Be careful, Irene. My lord uncle Ao Ji has little tolerance for impertinence.”

  For a moment Irene let herself enjoy the feeling of his body against hers, and bitterly regretted abandoning certain plans that she’d had for the rest of the night. But there was, after all, a crisis.

  When wasn’t there a crisis?

  “Be careful yourself.” She pulled herself away, giving his hands a squeeze. “There’s already been one death. I don’t want you in danger.” She considered exactly what they were all walking into. “Well, not any more danger.”

  “The story of our lives,” Kai said with a sigh. He caught up his coat from the rack by the door and strode out into the foggy night.

  Irene trotted back up the stairs, hoping that she hadn’t missed too much. She knew that Bradamant would realize she’d been talking to Kai. She hoped—for the sake of peace and non-aggression between Librarians for at least the next few hours—that Bradamant wouldn’t figure out what she’d been suggesting. She was sure Vale had guessed (that is, deduced) what she had in mind, but he’d be glad to have Kai as potential backup.

  As she walked back into the room, Bradamant was saying, “And there’s the Library’s motive.”

  Irene stopped dead in the doorway. “The Library’s motive?” she demanded. “What sort of motive would the Library have?”

  “I’m no happier about it than you are,” Bradamant said bitterly. “But His Majesty Ao Ji says that the night before the murder, Lord Ren Shun said something about a mysterious book. And given that he’s now dead . . . Well, who else would kill someone over a book?”

  CHAPTER 3

  “And you can tell me nothing more of the Fae side except the pseudonyms of their leaders?” Vale queried. “The Princess and the Cardinal?” Instead of spending time scrutinising the Library as they used it to pass between worlds, Vale had been all business. He was rapidly firing questions at Bradamant on the details of the case and growing perceptibly irritated at how little she knew.

  Bradamant jerked her shoulders in an angry shrug. “I’ve told you everything I’ve been told myself. I’d only just arrived there when I was sent away again to fetch you. Kostchei didn’t have the chance to give me a full briefing.” Her anger, Irene suspected, was more at her own ignorance than at Vale: naturally Bradamant would want to know what was going on. Who wouldn’t?

  And the biggest question of all, the one that would be troubling Bradamant as much as it was Irene: What was the mysterious book that Ren Shun had mentioned? Was it incidental to his murder, or was it the direct cause?

  And what would they do if it had been a Librarian who killed him? The Library’s reputation would be shattered for good—and its ancient calling would be obstructed at every turn. And without the Library’s stabilising influence, warring dragons and Fae could pull apart human worlds with their opposing forces. Irene shuddered.

  “It would have been a far more efficient use of time if your superiors had sent someone who’d actually been involved in this conference,” Vale finally said. “I mean no criticism to you, Madam Bradamant, but you are sadly underinformed about the pertinent details of this case.”

  It had been three o’clock in the morning when they had left Vale’s London. In order to forge a passage to the Library, they needed a sufficient quantity of books. But all the local libraries had been closed at that hour, naturally. (Well, all the legal libraries that Irene knew about. Perhaps London possessed secret societies with highly illegal libraries, which were open and busy at this time of night. But unfortunately Irene didn’t know of any.) So instead the three of them had done a bit of quiet breaking and entering, sneaking into the closest public library to Vale’s lodgings. Bradamant had opened a door from there into the Library itself. She’d been given a command word that allowed her to access its transfer shift facility, so that the three of them could be moved nearly instantaneously across the Library. It took them from their entry point to a door that would open on the very world where the murder had taken place.

  Now they were in an impressive Library room whose ceiling teemed with so much tiled art nouveau decoration that it almost overpowered the shelves of black-bound volumes. The door at the far end, their destination, was sealed and chained shut. They had paused, at Irene’s suggestion, to decide where to go first.

  “The situation must be quite bad, given what you’ve said about people’s tempers,” Irene suggested neutrally. “We’re not going to walk out into a war zone, are we?”

  “Absolutely not,” Bradamant said, possibly a little too quickly. “All parties are trying to keep things locked down, to stop them getting any worse. And let’s be reasonable about this: it was easier to send me to fetch Vale—and you,” she added as an afterthought, “than it would have been to send one of the supervising Librarians here, who didn’t actually know Vale or his world.”

  “And you certainly aren’t objecting to being in on things,” Irene observed.

  “Do I look stupid? Of course I’m not objecting. This is a game-changer. This whole situation might permanently affect how we work.” Bradamant gave her a sidelong glance. “You aren’t objecting either, I notice.”

  “I’m not objecting, I’m just worried,” Irene said. “This would be marvellous if
it does work. But there are so many ways that it could fail.”

  She’d seen what dragons and Fae could do to the world around them while fighting each other, or even while fighting among themselves. Earthquakes, storms, riots . . . The human collateral damage might be regretted, but it wouldn’t be considered important. The Library was gambling for tremendously high stakes here. This could go brilliantly right, or it could go catastrophically wrong.

  “Are we dressed adequately for the world we’re about to enter?” she asked, changing the subject. “We don’t want to look too out of place.”

  “I’d have told you if there was a problem,” Bradamant said. “Fashion’s jumped about ten years, and corsets and bustles are appropriate for fashionable clothing. For ladies,” she added hastily, as Vale raised an eyebrow. “But you can get by on what you’re currently wearing. You’ll just look a little unfashionable. Vale should be fine. The buttons and collar are a little off, but gentlemen’s clothing is much the same. And I’ll arrange for a local establishment to deliver something ready-made to the hotel, in case you need to go out incognito.”

  Irene sighed and nodded. She could think of nothing positive about bustles and corsets, except possibly that one could hide things underneath them. But fashion was fashion, and if they needed to go round Paris asking questions, then they would have to look unexceptional.

  “That should be sufficient,” Vale agreed. “In addition, I will need an excuse to persuade the local police to cooperate with me. I fear my reputation will mean nothing to them in this world.”

  “That’s been dealt with,” Bradamant answered. “We’re setting up a cover for you as an expert on anarchists, visiting from England.”

  “Anarchists?” Irene said. “I know we’re dealing with royalty here, but why would—”

  “No, it’s a current problem in this Paris,” Bradamant said. “It’s been in all the papers. I’m not sure it’s a serious threat, but there’s been enough talk that we can use it. As long as Vale avoids any reporters trying to interview him on the subject, we should be fine.”