The Masked City

She stepped inside and closed the door. There were no lights. There was no sound. There was only the smell of dust. She reached out to either side to brace herself against the walls.

‘Coherent,’ she said in the Language.

The cabinet shook around her, like a dumb-waiter cupboard being yanked at high speed in several directions. She shut her eyes, concentrating on not throwing up.

With a thump, the cabinet arrived. Irene took a moment to catch her breath, before pushing open the door and stepping out into the well-lit room beyond.

It was Coppelia’s private study, familiar from many hours spent there as Coppelia’s personal student and assistant. The focus of the room was the large mahogany desk, which curved round in a wide U, allowing a full range of documents to be shuffled over its surface. The walls were full of bookshelves, naturally - but several Slavic ikons in heavy gold and wood hung from them here and there, breaking up the expanse. Irene noticed it was night outside, and the study lights blazed through the bow window, harshly lighting the snowscape beyond. The usual extra chairs had been removed from the room, meaning that Coppelia sat in the only chair, behind her desk.

Standing before her, Irene wondered if she was meant to feel like a schoolgirl reporting to a teacher, or possibly a penitent reporting to an inquisitor. Whichever way, she suspected that she was meant to feel nervous.

Coppelia herself looked almost as controlled as usual. A crimson coif shrouded her head, and only the edges of her white hair were visible at her forehead. Today she was in a stark sleeveless robe of smooth, dark-brown velvet that left the full length of her carved-wood left arm visible. It was the same shade of sallow oak as her natural right arm, but an entirely different texture - all joints and clockwork. ‘A poor report,’ she said, with a faint wheeze. ‘Unless you really don’t know any more than you’ve told me.’

‘I deliberately gave you only the bare bones,’ Irene said resolutely. ‘Given the importance of the situation, I assumed you’d want to hear the rest in person.’

‘As opposed to sending a detailed email that anyone could read, is that it?’ Coppelia enquired.

‘You’re making that assumption,’ Irene replied. ‘I didn’t.’ Coppelia had chosen to leave Kai’s controversial dragon heritage mostly undiscussed the last time they met. But Irene wasn’t sure if it was in fact known by everyone at the appropriate level, or still genuinely confidential.

Coppelia raised her flesh-and-blood hand to rub at her forehead. ‘Tell me what you know, then.’

Irene ran over the details quickly. She had to mention Vale’s involvement, of course. But Coppelia already knew about Vale, and that he knew an uncomfortably large amount about the Library. Coppelia nodded slightly at a few points - the invitation from Kai’s family, the warning from Lord Silver, the Guantes, and Vale’s comments on the letter (also supposedly from Kai’s family) - but otherwise she was silent as she listened.

Finally she commented: ‘Dubious circumstances. I can hardly argue with that definition. Your thoughts?’

‘The letter’s a fake,’ Irene said frankly. ‘It’s not just the format. I would expect more style if it was from Kai’s people. From what he’s said of them, they’re royalty. Royalty does not send piddling little “Make no attempt to see him again” warning notes. They either wouldn’t bother with the commoners at all, or they’d sweep by and graciously inform us that we will be deprived of his presence. So it’s not even very good misdirection.’

‘And yet you’re here,’ Coppelia remarked. ‘And you’re asking about his family. If you’re so sure that it’s misdirection, why bother?’

‘Because we need to find him,’ Irene said. She folded her hands behind her back, hiding her clenched fists. ‘If Vale can trace the Guantes, or whoever they are, that’s good. But if not, then how do we track him? He’s my responsibility.’ The words hung in the air like a promise. ‘And since he was kidnapped while under my protection, his family may hold us responsible.’

Coppelia steepled her fingers, flesh against wood. ‘It’s true that the Library has absolutely no wish to enter into a feud with Kai’s kin,’ she agreed. ‘And a dragon’s revenge is a serious business. Hurricanes, storms, tidal waves, earthquakes … I witnessed a world being destroyed in such a way and was barely able to escape. So what do you want from me?’

Irene put aside some deeply unpleasant mental images. This was taking too long. ‘I need anything that we have on Lord Guantes that isn’t in the public records. And I’m assuming the Library knows more about Kai’s family than I do. Is there any chance the abduction could be their doing?’ A thought struck her. ‘Or the doing of someone connected to them? A rival faction? Or an over-enthusiastic servant?’

‘Hmm. A pertinent question. Nine out of ten.’ Coppelia considered, not taking her fierce eyes off Irene. Irene didn’t dare look away. ‘It is unlikely that his direct family would abduct him or leave a note to say he’d left. It would probably be beneath them. However, any royal family does have subordinates, junior relations, and in general people who would take on “Will nobody rid me of this turbulent priest?” suggestions with too much enthusiasm. One of them could have … And there are factions among the dragons. Not all of them support the royalty.’

Irene sighed. Yet another uncertainty. ‘So I can’t be sure of their involvement.’