The Masked City

Tsuuran took it in one long-fingered hand, and a thin line showed between his brows as he read. It was a hint of concern, well hidden, but still present.

‘A mutual acquaintance then found evidence that Kai had been assaulted and taken away,’ Irene continued. ‘I don’t know precisely what is going on. But you will understand that I was concerned.’

‘And if it had been his family’s doing?’ Tsuuran asked. He didn’t give the note back.

Irene stood her ground and looked Tsuuran in the eye. ‘I didn’t think it was. From what I know of dragons, that is not a message his family would have sent.’

Tsuuran was silent for a moment, which felt far too long. It gave Irene enough time to speculate whether she had just insulted him in particular, Kai’s family specifically or dragons in general, and what the consequences in each case would be. Finally he said, ‘Then what is your purpose here?’

Irene shrugged, aiming for nonchalance as the menace level in the room rose. Despite not being dragon royalty, she reminded herself, as a representative of the Library, I’m on a level with his staff. ‘If something has happened to Kai, then I wish to investigate. I have a great deal of respect for him.’ And friendly affection, and desire, and irritation for the number of times he’s suggested we go to bed … She didn’t know what would influence Tsuuran. He was a dragon, after all. Not human. In the face of his cool, dispassionate gaze she found herself running out of words. ‘I just want to make sure that he’s safe. I won’t leave him in danger.’

Was that actually a suggestion of sympathy in the dragon’s eyes?

‘You have done the right thing,’ Tsuuran said. No, it wasn’t sympathy as such, it was approval. A wave of relief swept through Irene. ‘Please do not feel embarrassed for coming to beg our help, young woman. Under the circumstances, it was not only the proper thing to do, it was the intelligent thing to do. Give me a moment and I will speak to my lord.’

Irene bowed her head, fighting the urge to go down on her knees as Tsuuran walked across to the far door. His air of authority and raw power was hard to ignore. Even if he was only a servant, he was a high-ranking one. And now she might finally have reached Ryu Gouen himself. Admittedly with a big EXPENDABLE sign on her back.

The door, which had closed behind Tsuuran, opened again. It had barely been a minute. This was either very good or very bad.

Tsuuran stood there, holding the door open. ‘You may enter. His majesty Ao Shun, King of the Northern Ocean, permits you audience.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

The room on the far side of the door was far larger than a regular office. To Irene’s first panicked glance, it was all space and darkness. A moment’s composure let her see the boundaries of walls and high ceiling, but that first stunning effect stayed with her. The air seemed to spiral around her like a current, dragging her further in.

There were no windows here, and the walls were panelled in the same dark metal as the floor, swirled with seamless loose curves, which reminded Irene of visits to museums and pictures of underwater metal deposits. Heavy silk banners hung down at regular intervals and crystals blazed on the wall like torches. They cast a cold unfriendly light, which still left much of the huge room in shadow. And there was simply nowhere left to go except towards the figure at the far end, sitting behind a desk on a raised dais.

The door behind her clicked shut as Tsuuran stepped through and closed it. ‘You may approach,’ the dragon said, prompting her. He clearly knew when a novice supplicant needed a little hint about proper court etiquette.

Irene began to walk nervously towards the throne, and couldn’t put off looking at the dragon king any longer. And when she did, she wished she hadn’t, as she was just as intimidated as she’d predicted. Because this dragon - his majesty Ao Shun, King of the Northern Ocean - hadn’t bothered to take human form.

His throne was set back from the marble-topped desk, allowing Irene a good view of the dragon monarch. He sat illuminated, despite the lack of a power source here, as his power cast its own light. A few locks of hair, as dark as onyx, fell across his forehead, but most was bound back in a long braid. Twin horns stood out from the hair, each a few inches long, each polished and sharp. And his skin wasn’t exactly black; it was the clear grey darkness of fathomless overcast skies. Irene thought that she could make out the tiny patterns of scales across his cheeks, even from her current distance. His nails - no, his claws - were as manicured as Tsuuran’s, except that he made no pretence of them being anything other than claws. And his eyes were as red as fresh lava, but cold and frozen. He was wearing a heavy long black silk robe, bordered with white, and rich with embroideries.

Irene tried to memorize it all as she’d been taught, because that gave her some sense of control. And at that moment she was struggling to cope with the crushing weight of the dragon king’s presence. The room was full of Ao Shun’s power, and he was waiting to see if she could walk towards him through it.

She squared her shoulders as she stepped forward, and her Library brand burned on her back, invisible but acutely painful. She found herself abruptly, stupidly reminded of posture lessons from childhood. And where should she stop? Irene settled for ten feet in front of the throne and bowed from the waist, holding it for three seconds before straightening.

Ao Shun opened his right hand, spreading his clawed fingers towards her. ‘Irene, servant of the Library. I bid you welcome to my kingdom.’