The Dark Archive (The Invisible Library Novel) Page 7

  Kai frowned. “Sterrington worked for Lord Guantes once.”

  “She formally broke off their relationship when their plot to kidnap you and spark a war failed. Also, Sterrington serves the Cardinal now, and the Cardinal wants the peace treaty to succeed to benefit the Fae. It wouldn’t be in Sterrington’s interests to kill us.”

  “Unless someone made her a better offer,” Kai said darkly.

  “I doubt she’d want to get on the wrong side of the Cardinal.” And speaking of the Fae . . . “Catherine,” she said, “it might be best for you to stay with your uncle until all this blows over.”

  Catherine hesitated. “Irene, can I speak to you in private?”

  “Of course,” Irene said. She glanced down; the beds were on wheels. “If I push your bed out of the room . . .”

  “Not necessary.” Kai levered himself to his feet with a grunt, legs showing under his nightshirt. “I need to go next door in any case—I take it there is a next door?”

  “It’s just on your right,” Irene said with gratitude.

  When they were alone in the room, Irene turned back to Catherine. “What is it?”

  Catherine grabbed her hands and clung to her like a limpet, her grip tight enough to hurt. “Don’t send me back to my uncle,” she said. “Just get me into the Library and I’ll do whatever you want, say whatever you want.”

  “I don’t want a puppet!” Irene exclaimed. “Surely living with him can’t be that bad?”

  “I just can’t stand him,” Catherine said. “All he thinks about is one thing, and all I want is books. We don’t have any common ground at all. He knew I’d be happy in your Library—much happier than living with him as his ward. Part of this whole thing is propaganda anyway, right? Having a Fae work with you to counterbalance your relationship with him.” Her eyes flicked to the door, indicating the absent Kai. “I don’t care about politics or the greater good or universal peace or whatever. I just want to be left in peace with books. And the Library contains all the books I could ever need. Give me that and I’ll do whatever you want.”

  Her voice had been slowly rising as she spoke, and her eyes begged Irene to believe her. And Irene wanted to. It was so close to what Irene herself once wanted from life. But the colder, more cynical part of her said, This is what she would tell you—if she wanted you to believe her. This is what she would say if she wanted to convince you she was just like you, to make you see yourself in her. You can trust Kai, and you can trust Vale, but can you really trust this woman?

  Are you really willing to let her into the Library?

  Irene took a deep breath. “Catherine, I hear what you’re saying. I understand how you feel. Any Librarian would.” She smiled ruefully. “But we’ve already been through this. I’ve tried to get you through this world’s permanent entrance to the Library. I’ve tried to get you through temporary ones. I’ve tried using the Language out loud. I’ve tried writing it down. I’ve even tried writing it in blood. The only time I’ve managed to get someone into the Library who was chaos-contaminated was by cleansing his system of the chaos first. And he was human.” That had been Vale, under desperate circumstances. “I don’t think I should try that on you.”

  Catherine gave her a mutinous glare. “They don’t train you in original thinking much, do they?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Irene said.

  “Why don’t you take a gateway to pieces or something, so you can work out its basic principles and then get me in?”

  Irene took a breath, let it out. “Because there’s only one gateway to the Library in any given world. Nobody’s entirely sure how they come into existence, and I’m not going to destroy one. I sympathize with the scientific approach, but there aren’t enough of them to risk it. Coppelia’s collating all the research she can find to help.” Though a worm of doubt at the back of her mind wondered if Coppelia was trying hard enough.

  After all, one of the Library’s key safeguards was that Fae couldn’t enter. If Irene proved they could, then who—or what—might follow?

  No. That was paranoia. Coppelia herself had said that Irene had to succeed, for the sake of the Library’s reputation and any future negotiations with the Fae. The problem with being too good at one’s job was that one saw schemes everywhere . . .

  She looked Catherine in the eye. “I’m trying,” she said. “I gave my word to your uncle—and to you—that I’d do my best to get you in there. Trust me.”

  “How can I, when you don’t trust me?”

  Irene weighed that statement. Was it a teenage bleat of annoyance, or an accurate judgment? Or a mixture of the two? “I understand you’re impatient. So’s Kai. So am I. For the moment, stay in bed and recover. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

  “This isn’t fair!”

  And that was an inner teenager having a tantrum. “How old are you, Catherine?” Irene asked pointedly.

  “Mid-thirties,” Catherine muttered.

  “Right,” Irene said. She rose to her feet and picked up the bundle with the laptop. “Keep an eye on that suitcase—I’ll return it to the Library later. Back soon.”

  “But I thought you said getting it to the Library was a priority?”

  “It is,” Irene agreed, “but staying alive is an even higher priority.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Kai was waiting outside the door at a tactful distance, so if he had been listening, it wasn’t obvious. He drew Irene into an embrace, and for a moment she was able to forget their current worries and take comfort in his strength. “So what now?” he asked.

  “This is for you.” Irene passed him the laptop. “You won’t be able to do anything with it on this world, because of this world’s magic—the moment you turn it on, a demon will attempt to possess it and it’ll blow up.” She’d had that problem herself, last time she tried using a computer tablet from an alternate world in this one. “Or something else equally unhelpful. And given who owned it, it’s bound to be booby-trapped, password-protected, whatever. But can you take it elsewhere, get it analysed, and find out which world it came from?”

  Kai’s face lit up with enthusiasm. “When we’re done with it, can I trade it to one of my kin? I have cousins and friends who’d be delighted to go through a Fae’s private files. And since I’m sure Lord Guantes isn’t signed up to the truce, we’re well within the limits of the treaty.”

  “Isn’t it a lovely feeling to be operating within the law?” Irene said, barely able to suppress her own smirk. “We’d better not get too used to it.”

  Kai glanced towards the closed sick-room door and raised an eyebrow. It said, What are we going to do about her?

  Irene took him by the elbow and walked out of earshot. “We’re going to have to take her back to Lord Silver for the moment. It’s too risky for her.”

  “She’s trained,” Kai said. “She handled herself well on Guernsey.”

  “She’s also going to be a target if Lord Guantes is back, or if Lady Guantes is out for revenge. They can get to us through her, as she’s my assistant. She could be used to get to Silver too. He’ll probably want to take her and flee the city.”

  Kai hesitated in the way he did when he was about to say something Irene wouldn’t like. “It’s an apprentice’s duty to share the master’s work. And dangers.”

  “I’m worried about her safety.”

  “You never worried about mine like that. You never tried to send me home.”

  Irene kept her voice down with an effort. She absolutely didn’t want Catherine overhearing this conversation. “We never had an assassin directly targeting us in the past—”

  “What about Alberich? When he was trying to destroy the Library and was hunting you personally,” Kai said unhelpfully.

  Irene generally tried not to think about that. Having the Library’s most notorious traitor and enemy—now dead, she devoutly ho
ped—take an interest in her was the sort of thing that not only inspired nightmares, but fanned them to paranoia as well. But even if Alberich could somehow still be alive, this world had been warded against him. If there was a new crime lord in London, whoever it was, it wasn’t him.

  “Thank you for bringing that up,” she said drily. “If we’re looking for people with grudges against us, I agree Alberich has motive. I burned his headquarters, ruined his plans, et cetera. What he doesn’t have is opportunity. But even when he was actively targeting me, we didn’t act like sitting ducks, just waiting for him to make his move. That’s why I want to get Catherine away . . .” Her voice trailed off thoughtfully as an idea half formed in her mind. Obvious targets. She filed it for later consideration.

  “Well, we aren’t doing that now,” Kai said. “We’re staying undercover till we have more information. Catherine is as safe here as she would be anywhere else.”

  “She’d be even safer with Lord Silver,” Irene said firmly. “And since I’m going to speak to him anyway, I can ask him about it.”

  “I think you’re making a mistake. She should be here.”

  “She’s my apprentice. If I have rights over her, then I have the right to put her somewhere safe.”

  Kai frowned. “Irene . . .” He trailed off.

  “I should be moving,” she said, changing the subject. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. If you feel well enough to travel before I return, for pity’s sake leave me a note saying where you’ve gone.”

  “And what’s your own itinerary?” Kai asked.

  Irene had to smile at that. Sauce for the gander was sauce for the goose. “Visit Lord Silver at his embassy, then Sterrington, then our lodgings for messages, then Vale’s lodgings, then back here. See—I’m completely transparent. It’s just past ten o’clock in the morning, so Sterrington should be at her office.”

  “If it’s ten o’clock in the morning, then Silver will be in bed and hungover.”

  “Yes,” Irene said cheerfully. “I’m rather counting on that.”

  CHAPTER 6

  It took repeated knocking at the Liechtenstein Embassy to raise any response, and the elderly woman who finally answered the back door glared at Irene. “No hawkers welcome,” she said. “No flowers, no love notes, and no policemen. The ambassador’s out.”

  “He’s what?” Irene said, stunned. Lord Silver had scheduled a party for last night and most of the day before it.

  The woman sniffed and tugged her shawl tighter round her shoulders, apparently about to slam the door in her face.

  “I beg your pardon,” Irene said quickly. “I was just surprised. Do you know where Lord Silver has gone?”

  The elderly woman leaned closer, breathing halitosis in Irene’s direction. “Fact is, he didn’t rightly tell me. But he left me to tidy up. And what I’m going to do with the food that’s ordered for today I don’t rightly know.”

  “But can you get him a message? It’s urgent . . .” Irene started, her irritation growing.

  Then she looked more carefully at the woman. That nose was just a little too pronounced, the stoop overdone. The bad breath wafted in her face was the product of onions and garlic. The whole effect was staged. “You know who I am,” she said quietly. “Let me in.”

  There was a flash of clarity in the woman’s rheumy eyes. Then she stepped back to let Irene inside.

  Irene lowered her umbrella and unwound her veil once the door was safely shut. She’d changed her hat, coat, and veil from her usual subdued colours for something a bit brighter and cheaper. And she’d change them again before going on to Sterrington. Standard protocols for when a spy—or a Librarian—suspected they were being followed. “All right,” she said. “For the record, I identify myself as Irene Winters. What’s going on?”

  The woman straightened up, rubbing her back. “You have to tell me how you spotted that,” she said ruefully, her voice abruptly clearer and less dialect-ridden. “I thought this persona would put off Peregrine Vale himself, if he came round asking nosy questions.”

  “It was partly the shawl,” Irene said apologetically. “It was far too clean. And something about the accent . . . but it was an excellent effort.”

  The woman nodded appreciatively. “So you were asking after Lord Silver. He’s gone to Hawaii.”

  “Hawaii?” Irene could hear her voice rising. “Why?”

  Silver’s retainer shrugged. “They were drinking rum and coconut milk cocktails last night and someone said, ‘We should be drinking these in Hawaii.’ Lord Silver agreed. And then he loaded up the household and half the guests in ether-cabs and headed for the Zeppelin port.”

  Irene groaned. “No . . . ulterior motives? An urgent need to get away?”

  “Not unless you count the weather, miss. Lord Silver’s not too fond of rain—unless he’s bathing naked on the roof. In company.”

  “Can you contact him?”

  “I can send a message, miss, but I can’t promise when he’ll read it.”

  Irene was silent for a moment. Was Silver really on holiday, or had something or someone scared him off? Maybe she was just being paranoid—but he rarely left London. In any case, she clearly couldn’t leave Catherine here.

  At least Lord Silver was probably safe from planned assassinations—if he was in Hawaii.

  “I’ll leave you a note to pass on,” she said. “I’d also appreciate it if you could let me know of any attacks on the embassy. Lord Silver and I may have a mutual problem.”

  “Can do, miss,” the woman said. “Send your message, that is. The rest of it’s at his lordship’s discretion.”

  Irene repressed a sigh. “That’ll have to do.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Her next stop was across London Bridge, on the other side of the Thames. She was aiming for a tangle of “modern” architecture—designed for bankers, lawyers, and similar types. These offices sat cheek by jowl with classical Regency buildings, converted for the same aforesaid business types. She’d picked up an ether-cab shortly after leaving the Liechtenstein Embassy. No person of quality would be walking around this bustling neighbourhood for more than five minutes, even if the packed streets meant journeys took twice as long.

  This also meant twice as long sitting in the back of a cab, wondering if a bullet would shatter the window at any moment. Twice as long worrying about Kai, and Vale, and Catherine, and all the things that could go wrong.

  Kai didn’t seem to realize quite how much danger he’d been in. He’d just shrugged it away—he’d been poisoned, received medical care, recovered. Catherine at least seemed to have a more sensible appreciation of the situation. Irene wished she knew more about her student’s history. She kept on thinking of her as the girl, as she seemed so young. She claimed to be in her thirties—but really, how could a human tell a Fae’s real age? Either way, she remained an unknown quantity at an uncertain time.

  Sterrington’s office was in one of the new buildings. It reared up ominously among the surrounding establishments, a structure in dark iron with windows as black as obsidian. Two small Zeppelins floated above, tethered to the roof in permanent readiness to rush off on urgent business—a display of ostentatious wealth declaring, We have money to waste. A constant stream of visitors flowed through the rotating doors, and Irene was glad to lose herself amongst them. Inside, her progress was further slowed by a group of workmen repainting the lobby. It was oddly reassuring to find this dark monolith of business wasn’t as perfect as it looked.

  To Irene’s surprise she was shown to Sterrington’s office immediately. She was whisked past two secretaries and a roomful of clerks, and Sterrington actually rose from her desk to greet her. “Thank you so much for coming at once,” she said. “I do appreciate it.”

  Irene shook Sterrington’s mechanical hand, feeling the workings of metal and plastic under the woman’s silk glo
ve, and wondered what she’d missed. “I’m glad if this is timely,” she said, “but I have to admit I came about my own problems. If you sent a message to my lodgings, I haven’t been there since yesterday.”

  “The important thing is that we can have a face-to-face, high priority.” Sterrington gestured Irene to a chair opposite. Her dark hair was restrained in a tight bun, and her face had the sort of smooth gloss that went with a perfect cleansing regimen. Her watered-silk grey jacket and skirt radiated “high-status businesswoman,” topped off with a single ruffle of white silk at her throat. She came straight to the point. “Yesterday I received an urgent message from Lord Silver. One of his spies warned him someone was plotting to assassinate him. So he was planning to leave London, without alerting any watchers that he knew of the plot. He thought I was involved too.”

  “As additional target or as an assassin?” Irene asked innocently.

  “Target,” Sterrington said. The Fae didn’t seem insulted, which said something about her professional relationship with Lord Silver. “His contacts told him you were at risk too—and he asked me to tell you for the sake of the treaty. I expect he left a message for you too.”

  “More than likely,” Irene agreed. “I need to check my lodgings; the problem is doing it safely . . . We experienced an assassination attempt ourselves, in Guernsey. And it was almost a success.”

  “‘We’ being?”

  “Myself, Prince Kai, Peregrine Vale, and Catherine. It’s the identity of the assassin that’s relevant here. You see . . . Lord Guantes came back from the dead.”

  “I find it alarming that you believe this.”

  “So you think I’ve been fooled?” Irene asked.