CHAPTER 24

The carriage was uncomfortably crowded with five people in it, but nobody had even suggested splitting up to take a second one. Kai had come round from the chloroform he’d been dosed with and now merely had a sick headache. He was complaining about it every couple of minutes. Irene knew from experience that he rarely had any trivial illnesses and was very bad at coping when he did.

She hadn’t told him about the note yet. She hadn’t told him that he’d been betrayed.

They had all been sharing information. Silver was going over the details of his own capture in heroic detail, but basically it came down to the fact that he’d traced the cake to the theatre, walked in there, and had a gun shoved in his ribs. That had been this morning. “The afternoon was lacking in interest and information,” he finished. “Until the detective and the prince showed up.”

“Hardly voluntarily,” Vale noted. “We were captured in the streets around the theatre while we were investigating.”

“I don’t understand why you couldn’t just make them free you,” Mu Dan said. She was somewhere between exhausted and jittering with nerves, making her an awkward coach-seat companion. “You are one of them, after all.”

“My talents lie in a different direction,” Silver said haughtily. “You may ask Miss Winters for further details. And the Countess already had firm control over everyone she’d allowed down there.”

“She was also more powerful than you are,” Vale said. He had sunk into a brooding reverie and was staring out of the carriage window. Flakes of snow were beginning to fall, and the night sky was thickly blanketed with cloud.

“She was more powerful than any of us,” Silver snapped back. “I still don’t understand how Miss Winters managed to do whatever it was she did. And why none of us could see her power until we were past her doorstep and into her parlour.”

“When I reached the threshold of her hiding-place, I had the chance to examine it,” Irene explained. “I found some sort of ward script which had been created by Alberich, probably a long time ago, in order to conceal chaotic power. I took a chance that something which had been created in the Language could be repurposed with the Language.” She wondered whether she should mention that she still had the ward in her pocket. Along with the Cardinal’s letter to the Countess, and the note betraying Kai … she was turning into a walking storehouse of dangerous documents. “It worked. Fortunately. Really, I was quite impressed. Alberich was a master craftsman. I wonder if I could manage anything that powerful …”

“What would you have done if it hadn’t worked?” Kai asked.

“Kai, that sort of question never helps,” Irene said firmly.

In spite of the cold air outside, the five people crammed into it kept the carriage warm. But it wasn’t the temperature that made Irene shiver and chafe her hands together. She knew that she had been avoiding this and that she had no time left to do so. “Right. Next item on the agenda. Kai, you were unconscious and you missed this. Someone sent the Countess a message saying that you and Vale were coming. I think that was how she managed to ambush you. I have the note here—at least, I hope I do.” She reached into the inner pocket where she’d stashed it. “Unless the Countess is in the habit of hiding multiple billets-doux in her bodice and I grabbed the wrong one.”

Kai froze, abruptly more of a statue than a living being. She could feel the tautness of his muscles where he was crammed against her. “Who sent it?”

“Let’s have a look.” She unfolded the paper, holding it out so everyone could see in the flickering light of passing street lamps.

Vale leaned forward till his nose was practically touching the paper, clearly only just resisting the urge to rip it out of Irene’s hands and scrutinise it in more detail. “Good notepaper,” he said, “though not watermarked, I think—hold it up a moment, Winters? No, not watermarked, and all three of the hotels have their own watermarked stationery. So we cannot trace it that way. The seal is simply plain wax, with no use of a seal-ring or any other form of identification. The handwriting is formalised and calligraphic, no doubt because the original writer’s hand is recognisable. Black ink, no further detail possible at the moment without analysis. The text gives little away. ‘The detective and the dragon prince who are investigating the murder are heading to the Grand Guignol to look for culprits there. I hope you will find them entertaining. From one of your kin who wishes you well.’ Not signed, of course.”

“Would we believe the signature if it was?” Kai’s hand closed on Irene’s arm. “Irene, what is the purpose of this betrayal? Even if we’d vanished at the theatre, someone would have discovered we were going there—Mu Dan, or you, or my uncle. Why didn’t whoever it was just tell her to abandon her hide-out and leave? We’d never have found her.”

Irene glanced over to Vale and saw that he was frowning, his deep-set eyes in shadow. “You ask some very interesting questions,” he said. “We need answers.”

But Irene thought that she might already know what those answers were. And if she was right … then she had good reason to be afraid. A message like this—so detailed, so specific—was intended to get Kai and Vale killed. More murders. “The end result is what we should be looking at,” she said.

“Since I am neither a detective nor a judge-investigator—much to my relief—you may need to explain more fully,” Silver said.

Mu Dan was nodding. “Irene’s right. I realise that you don’t want to get involved in the politics of this, Your Highness, but if you were killed in the middle of this investigation, and by a Fae, even if the delegation claims not to be involved with her—”

“Isn’t involved with her,” Silver said. “She was going to kill me too, in case you didn’t notice.”

Irene suppressed a sigh. “Mu Dan’s just being technical. Just as she was when nobody except me had actually witnessed the Countess last night. Even if you witnessed her bomb.”

“I think we can all testify to her presence now,” Vale agreed.

Kai looked between them. “You’re avoiding the point,” he said. “You don’t think she killed Ren Shun, do you, Irene? The person who did it was the same person who betrayed us. They’re still trying to disrupt the truce and trigger a war.”

Irene wondered how many of the others in the carriage were following the same train of thought she was. Vale, probably. Silver, possibly, but he was the last person who could actually suggest the name that she was thinking. Mu Dan wouldn’t cast her suspicions in that direction—even if she was a judge-investigator. And Kai himself …

“Kai,” she said, “can you tell me how you and Vale came to suspect the Grand Guignol? That’s one bit of information I haven’t caught up with yet.”

Kai went through the details, with Vale confirming them: a disregarded report from Ren Shun, found while going through his papers at Ao Ji’s request—and contributory evidence that Vale had discovered. “But you and Mu Dan weren’t at Le Meurice when we looked for you, before going out,” he finished, a little too self-justifyingly.

Irene felt a twinge of guilt. “I was lured out by Dorotya, a Fae who works for the Countess. She wanted information. And Mu Dan was looking for me. Sorry.” She hurried on before Kai could start giving his opinion on her wandering off alone. “But this betrayal does support the theory that the Countess isn’t guilty of the murder—whatever else she may have done or be going to do. I hope that the gendarmes can deal with her nest, now that it’s been exposed.”

They were nearly at Le Meurice now. At least here, together, inside this carriage, they could speak in confidence. Irene had to decide what she was going to say. Her eyes strayed to Kai’s taut face again. She’d gotten him into this, and she might be about to hurt him in the worst way possible …

But reality slapped her in the face. The worlds are at risk, this peace treaty’s on the brink of failing, my parents may be put to death, and I’m wasting my time worrying about hurting his feelings?

“I went to the Library,” she continued. “Prutkov’s unreliable. And our security people are investigating him. But also, and this is important—remember the book that was mentioned on the note in Ren Shun’s pocket? Herodotus’s Myths? We’ve found a copy of it—it was saved from the Richelieu Library, the Enfer section, before the place was bombed. But we don’t think the edition we’ve found is from the world referenced in that note—Beta-001. We have that edition in the Library itself—and there’s nothing interesting about it at all.”

“Your point?” Silver asked, looking perplexed.

“Someone wrote Ren Shun’s note and planted it to incriminate the Library. Someone who knew how we classify worlds but didn’t know the right classification to quote. Which wasn’t Beta-001.”

“Winters,” Vale said sharply, a warning note in his voice. She met his eyes and saw certainty in them. He knew what she was thinking. He’d probably worked it all out already. “Be careful about making accusations without proof. Whether it refers to current affairs—or to the murder of Minister Zhao.”

“They’re linked?” Kai asked.

“I am certain of it,” Vale said. “And while I am not sure who was directly responsible for the minister’s poisoning, I believe I know the hand behind them.”

“Then we need proof,” Irene said. She worked her cold hands together in her lap. “Back at the Library, I told Melusine that if we try to build this peace treaty on a lie, it will eventually fall apart. I haven’t changed my mind about that.”

The carriage drew up outside Le Meurice, and the driver hammered on the top of the cab. “Here we are, messieurs, mesdames!”

Kai didn’t move. “Could the rest of you leave the carriage?” he asked. “I’d like a private word with Irene.”

A moment later, the two of them were alone in the carriage, the driver audibly sighing above and the horses stamping their feet in the cold. More snow came twisting down past the windows, and the wind whistled down the broad avenue.

“You’ve never insulted my intelligence,” Kai said abruptly. “If anything, you’ve expected me to keep up with you and been disappointed when I haven’t. Yet tonight you’re avoiding my questions. And it’s because you think someone in the dragon delegation is responsible.”

“It would be pointless to ask which questions, wouldn’t it?” Irene replied. “That would just be avoiding them further … I’m sorry, Kai.” She didn’t have to say what for, as she’d never kept secrets from him before. And she was relieved he hadn’t followed her chain of logic through to the end—and to which dragon was responsible.

“It’s clear Vale agrees with you too, about the culprit. But he’s letting you handle it. I suppose he doesn’t want to deal with the emotional consequences of telling me that I was betrayed by someone I know.”

“Kai, I don’t want to deal with the emotional consequences.” She met his eyes. “I don’t want consequences, full stop. Give me a way out of this and I’ll take it.” She found, to her surprise, that she was entirely sincere. If he could think of an answer to the current situation—to naming the potential murderer—then she would be glad to accept it. “I’m not proud.”

“The Countess did it,” Kai proposed. “We’ve got all the proof we need that she’s here. Somehow she lured Ren Shun out. She suborned some of his spies, perhaps, and that’s why they were murdered too …”

It was so very tempting. It was the sort of lie that made more sense than the truth. “But if we put that forward as an answer and it’s not true, and the treaty gets that much closer to being signed, will there be any more murders? Any more attempts to stop it?”

“You’re implying that a dragon’s behind it and was trying to frame the Fae. But a motive could just as easily be found for your own people,” Kai said, changing tack. “You’ve admitted Prutkov’s unreliable. He told you that he was in favour of the treaty, but he could have been lying. The Library could be even more of a power broker if we dragons and the Fae remain at war. You say you know he did lie to you—but how can you know how much he lied about? Where better to sabotage negotiations than from an apparently neutral position?”

He had put aside his first emotional reaction and was arguing like a courtier, knowing his feelings alone wouldn’t be enough to convince her. Irene respected that. She also knew that all the other dragons would agree with him; they wouldn’t even consider her new hypothesis plausible. Kai at least was pointing out the possible holes in it. Li Ming or Mei Feng would simply shrug in disdain and have her shown out of the room.

“It seems unrealistic that the one side we aren’t considering blaming here is the Fae delegation,” she said. “But it’s true. The Princess … well, I grant you that she’s Fae, but she’s as trapped in her role as any of them. Treachery isn’t in her nature. And I believe the Cardinal would know the possible consequences if you were killed—thinking of your capture by the Countess. He might endanger you, but I can’t see him handing you over to her …”

A sudden realisation of just how narrow their escape had been seized Irene by the throat and nearly choked her. She had carefully, very carefully, been avoiding thinking about what might have happened. From the moment she’d entered the Countess’s lair and seen Kai and the others in chains, she’d put the brakes on her own imagination so that she could function. She hadn’t allowed herself to think what might happen if she failed. And now here she was, talking about it so casually, so lightly, as if it was just another clever political move and not the very real possible torture and death of people she cared about.

For a moment it was as if she was back there in the red-lit room, her lungs full of the smell of blood and sweat and malice. She wanted to hold on to Kai, to shield him, to keep him from being endangered like that again. She was the one who’d brought him here, and so far not only had she put him into deadly danger, but she was on the verge of accusing his uncle of murder—and trying to ruin the negotiations. Good job, Irene. Impressive. What do you do for an encore?

As if from a great distance, she pushed the latent hysteria down and walled it away. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Whatever happens, I think this is going to be messy.”

“Will you stop apologising!” Kai grabbed her shoulder, dragging her round to face him. “You just saved my life. You’re wrong about which faction is harbouring the murderer, but that’s not something you should be apologising for! And you’re not the only person responsible for making things right around here …”

“I am the person who’s had all this dumped in her lap,” Irene said through gritted teeth, “and I’m the person whose parents might get killed if I get this wrong. Do not lose your temper at me, Kai. I’m not in the mood to be nice. And I’m running out of consideration for your feelings. For anyone’s feelings. Very soon, I’m going to have to be strategic, rather than kind, and I thought I might at least apologise for that first. But by all means take responsibility for sorting things out as well. I am all in favour of other people being responsible!” She considered the last couple of days wearily. “I’m just not going to count on it.”

“No,” Kai said bitterly, “you’re just going to try to shoulder everything yourself and then take the blame if it all goes wrong.”

“That’s unfair.” Irene was aware that their conversation had veered into the sort of painful emotional argument she’d always detested, but she wasn’t sure how to steer it out again. “You have no right to criticise me for doing my job.”

“Except that you’re not my superior officer in the Library any more,” Kai said. “I’ve left the Library. We’re independent now.”

“I wasn’t talking about our positions in the Library. I meant the investigation. And if you ask Vale or Silver, or even Mu Dan, I think they’ll all agree that I’m giving the orders there.” Honesty compelled her to add, “Until I tell them to do something that they don’t want to do, of course.”

Kai let go of her shoulder with a sigh. “So where do we stand on this?”

Irene could only hope that the answer wasn’t going to ultimately be on opposite sides. “My position is that I have to find out the truth,” she said. “Even if it’s Prutkov. And believe me, I will throw him to the wolves if he’s responsible. But it would reassure me to know that you were genuinely supporting this attempt to make peace—and not just because you know I want it.”

Kai flushed but inclined his head in agreement. “I still detest most of the Fae that I’ve ever met,” he said, “but if they’re willing to deal in good faith and try to make peace, then I can do no less.”

When it came to motives for building a new future, retaining the moral high ground was a bit underwhelming. Still, Irene was prepared to count end results as what mattered in this case. “Thank you,” she said. “I needed to hear that.”

“I will help.” He touched her chin, his fingers warm. “I’ll do what I can. But you and Vale need to prove your findings. Li Ming, Mei Feng, my uncle … if you accuse anyone in our delegation, and I support you, then they’ll say I’m biased. And they’d be right.”

“So noted,” Irene said. She reached for the door handle. “We’d better get moving. There’s no time to lose.” She knew that it wasn’t settled yet, that the whole question hung between them like an unexploded bomb. But … they’d have to deal with that when they came to it.

In the hotel foyer, Irene ignored an argument between Silver and Mu Dan, and a brooding Vale slumped in a chair, and made her way to the desk. “Can you tell me if Monsieur Prutkov is present?” she asked.

The desk clerk was delighted to inform her that yes, Monsieur Prutkov was indeed present and had not gone out, and that they could send a pageboy up to fetch him.

“No, thank you,” Irene said. “I’ll go up myself.”

She was aware that she was attracting glances due to her battered male attire, but fortunately Mu Dan and Silver were with her and well-dressed enough to shield her from challenges. She was also aware that from a self-serving Library point of view, she should question Prutkov in private first. But if he was the murderer, then she wanted backup. And if he wasn’t, then she needed his help—and having the rest of the group with her might be useful in persuading him to give it.

The few words she managed to exchange with Vale on the way upstairs, out of hearing of the others, confirmed her thoughts. He’d come at it from a different angle, but certain matters had solidified his theory. A discussion with the hotel laundry. A review of the weather patterns on the night of the murder. The post-mortem reports on Ren Shun’s agents.

And, of course, the note from Ren Shun’s pocket.

What Irene hadn’t expected was the man waiting outside Prutkov’s room. He was thin—gaunt, even—and in his sixties, with an old scar that ran down the right side of his face. It ran from the top to the bottom of his right eye socket, pale against his dark skin. What remained of his hair was grey and wispy, combed back from his face. His suit was battered, but his cuffs and collar were spotlessly clean and white. He nodded slightly as he caught sight of them. Before Kai could sweep Irene behind him protectively, the man stepped forward. “Irene Winters, I think?” he said.

“Yes,” Irene admitted. “But we haven’t had the pleasure, so you are …”

“Azevedo,” he said. “From the Library. I hope the word Nevksy means something to you.”

Relief filled Irene like oxygen, giving her new energy. “It does. Thank goodness. You’ve spoken with Prutkov?”

“I have. You were correct.” He glanced over the rest of the group. “Normally we’d want to keep certain matters private, but under the circumstances I suppose it would cause more suspicion than it’s worth. Please come in.”

Prutkov was hunched over in a chair, and he didn’t bother to rise as they filed in. His expression was sour to the point of viciousness, and there was a grey undertone to his skin that Irene wasn’t sure how to interpret. Shock? She nodded in his direction. “We have some questions to ask,” she said.

“You won’t be the first person this evening,” he said. His gaze moved to Azevedo, who was carefully shutting the door. “Melusine is not going to approve of everyone being present while I’m …”

He seemed to be casting around for the right words. “Getting an earful?” Irene suggested helpfully.

“And you are proving that you have no discretion.”

Irene looked down at him, her suddenly rising anger boiling in her stomach like acid. “You know, under some circumstances I’d be annoyed by that. But given that it’s you who’s accusing me, I will only say that you have done a piss-poor job of organising an undercover operation.” She heard Vale’s intake of breath at her vulgarity but ignored it. “You remember the Blood Countess? We’ve just broken open her lair while we were escaping, because—thanks to someone who let them walk into a trap—she was about to kill Kai and Vale here. And Silver too, as a matter of fact. But she wasn’t warned that he was coming—presumably because he’s a Fae. Which leads to a question I need to ask here. Well, one of them.”

Prutkov’s frown was growing. He picked up a glass of water from the side table by his chair and sipped it. “What questions do you need to ask?”

“First question, and I would like you to answer in the Language.” Both Azevedo and Prutkov frowned at that, and Irene knew why. It was impossible for a Librarian to lie in the Language—even if they could, theoretically, make an honest mistake while using it. If Prutkov accepted her demands, then he’d be speaking absolute truth in front of a room full of outsiders. And since they’d all hear the Language as their own native tongue, they’d understand whatever he was saying. But it had to be done. “Did you kill Ren Shun?”

Prutkov’s eyes widened. Apparently he hadn’t expected that question. “I did not kill Ren Shun,” he said in the Language, without hesitation.

Kai hissed between his teeth. He knew what that meant. Irene had just knocked the main suspect in his theory out of contention. “Ask him if any of his minions might have done it,” he suggested.

Prutkov shot Kai a look of plain dislike. “I did not give any orders for Ren Shun to be killed, either directly or by implication,” he said. “You aren’t seriously saying that I’m a suspect here?”

“You’re unreliable. Given the stakes we’re dealing with, I have to be sure.” Irene wanted to say more than that—to ask him what the hell he thought he’d been doing, playing with these stakes, with so many lives at risk. But that would have been self-indulgence, when there were more important questions to which she needed answers. “Second question. Did you—or anyone under your orders—send a message to the Blood Countess under the Theatre of the Grand Guignol to let her know that Vale and Kai were coming?”

“She can’t have been there,” Prutkov objected. “We had the place checked for chaos. Twice. It was too obvious!”

“She’d obtained wards from Alberich, in the past, which allowed her to suppress chaos in her local area.” Irene pulled the remaining ward-script out of her coat and offered it to Azevedo. His expression darkened further as he looked it over. “That’s why none of us could find her there. But trust me, she was there, we can all vouch for that. Now please answer my question.”

It was strange how her vocabulary and usage defaulted to please and thank you, Irene reflected grimly, as Prutkov hesitated over his words. Once it’s been ground into you as a child, you can never break free …

“I have never sent any sort of message to the Countess, nor did I order one to be sent.” Prutkov took a deep breath. “And I didn’t know where she was based. Nor did I know that the dragon and the detective had gone to the theatre.” He dropped back to English. “Satisfied?”

“I’m surprised you didn’t know they’d gone out, or where they’d gone,” Mu Dan said. “It seems the sort of thing you would track.”

“That may be my fault,” Vale put in. “I was already suspicious of Mr. Prutkov here, and I did my best to avoid our coming to his attention.”

Irene nodded, her brain whirling as pieces settled into a new configuration. “Kai,” she said, “I know that this won’t be enough to convince others in the delegations, but will you accept this as evidence for now?”

“Yes. Unwillingly, but yes.” There was a glint of dragon-red in Kai’s eyes, and he looked as if he would like to be pacing the room. If he had been a cat, he would have been lashing his tail. “My lord uncle will not be happy if he learns one of the Library’s own people was manipulating events to his advantage.”

“And while it’s scarcely necessary to point it out, nor will the Cardinal,” Silver remarked.

“These accusations are unjustified,” Prutkov said, straightening his shoulders. “I’ve hardly been ‘manipulating events.’ I’ve been defending the Library’s interests. Just because one Librarian here dislikes the precise manner in which I’ve been doing it—”

There was a rapping at the door. Everyone looked at each other. Then Azevedo gestured to Prutkov to answer it.

“Who’s there?” Prutkov called.

“Deborah.” Irene recognised the voice—she’d been talking to Prutkov while Irene hid behind the curtain with the Princess.

Prutkov sighed. “Come in,” he said flatly. Either he’d given up on any further concealment or he realised how suspicious it would look to send her away.

Azevedo opened the door. The woman beyond paused to see a stranger standing there, and her eyes widened further as she saw how full the room was. She hesitated, as if considering bolting, then shrugged and stepped inside. Fresh snow crusted her hat and the shoulders of her coat, and she left a damp trail behind her. “Prutkov, I don’t know what’s going on, but something’s turned bad. Ao Ji’s left the opera and he’s on his way here now.”

“Why?” Prutkov checked his watch. “It’ll only just be the interval. It’s not even nine o’clock yet.”

“I don’t know and nor do his people, but something’s gone wrong. He’s not in a good mood.” She brushed snow meaningfully from her coat. “And if the Fae get the idea that something’s up and leave the opera too, they’ll be coming right here as well. What’s going on?”

Time seemed to slow as Irene came to a decision.

“I think I know what to do,” she said, “but I’m going to require everyone’s cooperation on this one. And that means you too, Prutkov, because you have something I need.”