The Masked City

The noise had come from Kai’s bedroom. A dozen unpleasant possibilities ran through Irene’s mind, most of them connected with last night’s attack.

‘What?’ Kai released her, ran to the door and slammed it open. ‘Who dares?’

His room was surprisingly tidy - a bulging wardrobe, a bare floor, a small table and an equally small shrine with a twist of incense. The large bow window on the other side of the room was intact, but a dramatic figure stood on the other side of it, his cane raised to beat against the glass. His cloak and jacket fluttered in a wind that certainly hadn’t been blowing earlier, and his silver hair cascaded down over his shoulders. A lambent glitter sparkled in his eyes.

‘Kai,’ Irene said, with great patience, ‘why is Lord Silver standing on your windowsill?’

CHAPTER THREE

‘Let me in!’ Silver smashed his cane against the glass. It rebounded with the same cracking noise they had heard earlier, leaving the glass untouched. Fortunately, Irene and Kai’s wish to collect a critical mass of books meant this apartment could support a Library-style ward. And such things were anathema to the Fae. Though it was taking her a regular effort to maintain it, at moments like this it was totally worth it.

‘Certainly not!’ Irene pushed in front of Kai. ‘Lord Silver, how dare you behave like this?’

Silver clung to the arch of the window with one hand, and pointed the head of his cane at Irene. He was wearing perfect morning dress, suit and cloak - and his top hat was cocked rakishly, somehow staying on his head despite his position and the morning breeze. ‘Are you going to tell me you know nothing about it?’

Irene reviewed her conscience. It was comparatively clean. At least it didn’t bring up any particular crimes with respect to Silver. ‘Nothing about what?’ she demanded. ‘And why on earth are you standing on the windowsill and yelling through the glass?’

‘Because you won’t open the window, of course,’ Silver said, in tones that suggested it was too obvious to be worth mentioning. ‘I came here for a perfectly simple private consultation, and found your lodgings barred to me. Is it my fault that I chose to approach discreetly, rather than by the front door?’

Irene supposed the back first-floor window was more discreet than the front door. But not by much. ‘And what do you want to discuss with us?’

‘Ah. I take it that you’re not going to invite me in?’

‘No,’ Irene said, prodding Kai, before he could say something more emphatic but equally negative. The clock was still ticking. She didn’t have time for all these Fae dramatics. But if Silver could answer some questions about last night’s events, then it would be stupid not to ask him here and now. ‘How about neutral territory, Lord Silver? There’s a coffee shop down the road. We’ll meet you there in five minutes.’

Silver shrugged casually. ‘I dare say it will do. The name of this place, little mouse?’

‘Coram’s,’ Irene said, ignoring Silver’s little jab. She’d passed the point where he could irritate her with his taunts. If he thought that was going to put her off-balance, he was wasting his time. ‘Close to the foundling hospital. We’ll join you there.’

Silver gestured acquiescence, then leapt from the windowsill, landing elegantly on the pavement a storey below. A waiting footman stepped forward to take his cane.

‘Just to check,’ Irene said. ‘You haven’t been doing anything I should know about, Kai?’ She didn’t think he had, but it was probably a good idea to check first, before they got to any blame-slinging.

‘Unfortunately not.’ Kai found his coat, flinging it over his shoulders. ‘Do you think it has something to do with last night?’

‘It seems likely, given his timing,’ Irene said. ‘Let’s go and find out.’

There were always problems in dealing with the Fae. Despite their human appearance, they were soul-destroying entities from beyond space and time, who introduced chaos into alternate worlds. One method they used was to subvert people’s usual lives and narratives, drawing them into endless patterns of stories. This weakened reality and the natural order of things, until the native population didn’t know what was truth and what was fiction. At that point, the world would drown in a sea of chaos. And, more practically, they constantly tried to play hero or villain of their personal narrative, insisted that you had to be a character in that story, and refused to deal with you in any other way.

The coffee shop was a den of snobs, and wasn’t one of Irene’s favourites. Which made it perfect for a possible confrontation that might result in her being permanently banned and never darkening its doorway again.

A cab with the Liechtenstein crest had drawn up outside, the engine turning over and giving off little random flares of ether. The driver sat at his post, still perfectly poised despite the heat and the smog, but Irene saw his eyes follow her and Kai as they approached the cafe.

‘It could be worse,’ Irene said. ‘Silver might have arrived by private airship.’

Kai nodded. ‘Vale told me they’ve got a new model out. It’s even smaller than the one-man models the museums use.’

‘ “They” as in Liechtenstein?’

Kai nodded. ‘He said everyone was bidding for them, and that levels of spying on this new technology had gone through the roof.’

‘Much like the airships?’ Irene sighed when that didn’t get a laugh. ‘Now remember,’ she murmured. ‘Polite. Noncommittal. Don’t give him any excuses for dramatics.’