The Masked City

‘Trapdoor, return to your normal state. And thank you,’ Irene shouted as quietly as she could. She didn’t know how much licence she’d been given to use the Language, but she wasn’t taking any risks. She flexed her hands one at a time, to get some feeling back as she readied herself. All right. Her situation was pretty dire. But she had the element of surprise, and the Language. And a gun.

Although Sterrington also had a gun. And Lady Guantes and Lord Guantes might be armed too.

Perhaps she should make sure that nobody had guns …

Irene inched backwards to where two carriages met. The join was walled and roofed with canvas, swaying alarmingly with each movement of the Train. Fortunately, she didn’t need to navigate it, as there was actually a ladder down the side of the carriage. She was out of the wind as she clung there, and she scraped her tangled hair back from her face so that she could see clearly.

The connecting sections opened onto the carriage corridors, rather than the interior compartments. And the corridor would be filled with guards, according to Zayanna and Atrox Ferox. But they wouldn’t expect her to burst through the compartment wall - if she had enough adrenaline left to muster the appropriate Language. The butt of Atrox Ferox’s gun was cold in her sweating hand.

‘Train wall in front of me,’ she shouted, ‘open like a door and allow me to enter the carriage beyond. Then close.’

To her relief, the metal in front of her swung open compliantly, and she stepped into the carriage, just a yard behind Sterrington and the prisoners. She stumbled at the sudden cessation of pressure and wind. But Sterrington was already turning and raising her gun, Lady Guantes was whirling, her hand moving beneath her cape, and Lord Guantes was standing. Irene bowled Atrox Ferox’s gun down the compartment, straight at the Guantes.

‘Guns,’ she shouted, as Sterrington levelled her pistol at her, ‘explode!’

The carriage rang with the thunderclap, and the Train shook.

It was messy. There was no way it couldn’t be. Sterrington shrieked in pain as the gun in her hand shattered in a bloom of flame. She clutched at her bloody wrist, trying to stop the flow of blood, bone showing white through the bleeding flesh of her savaged hand.

Lord and Lady Guantes were both getting up from the floor. Atrox Ferox’s gun had exploded much more violently than Sterrington’s, but they weren’t as close to it. All that was left of the weapon was a charred patch, like an exotic stain, which stood out against the grey-draped back wall. Fragments of metal had ripped into the cushions of the chairs and into the thick carpet, and had scarred the dark panes of the windows.

But both the Guantes looked unharmed, beyond some damage to their clothes. Whatever Lady Guantes had under her cape, it wasn’t a gun. A knife, perhaps. Irene didn’t think she was the sort of woman to go unarmed.

‘Doors, bolt.’ There were clicks as the two compartment doors into the passage locked themselves, keeping any minions firmly out. ‘Try anything,’ Irene said quickly, her ears still ringing from the explosion, ‘and I’ll do even worse. Sterrington, go and stand with them.’ The woman stumbled down the carriage towards the Guantes, her face deathly pale.

‘My dear Miss Winters,’ Lord Guantes said. ‘You would appear to have exhausted your resources already.’ He spoke with casual arrogance, but the sheer fury in his eyes and the snap in his voice betrayed his fragile self-control.

‘Lord Guantes,’ Irene cut in, before he could catch her off-balance again. Lady Guantes also had her full attention on Irene, neither of the pair making any move to help Sterrington, who was probably in shock. ‘If I want,’ Irene continued, ‘I can shatter the windows on you, break the floor and ceiling, set fire to the furnishings and break each bone of yours as I name it.’ And it was a good thing that she wasn’t saying all this in the Language, because it wasn’t entirely true. But some of it was. Her hand went to Zayanna’s knife, still stuck in her sash. ‘I have absolutely no compunction about using my full powers.’

‘And should we assume you’re as dangerous as Alberich?’ Lady Guantes asked Irene sceptically. She edged to her right, further away from Lord Guantes.

There was banging on the compartment door.

‘You should assume that I am very dangerous indeed,’ Irene replied.

Lord Guantes took a step to his left. They’re trying to split my attention. ‘Then why aren’t you using these incredible powers?’ he said in tones of polite curiosity.

‘It would endanger everyone in this carriage.’ The banging on the doors was getting louder. She took a deep breath: she had to look in control here. ‘But being your prisoner would be worse, so I’ll act if pushed. So come on, Lord and Lady Guantes. I’m asking you to offer me a better alternative. Call off your men. Let’s talk.’

‘And if we don’t?’ Lady Guantes asked. Her hand slid under her cape again.

‘Then I start by ordering this knife through your husband’s eye.’ Irene pulled the knife from her sash. ‘And whatever you try, madam, I’ll get there first.’

Her absolute sincerity must have shown, as Lady Guantes slowed, her hand now still under her cape, and Lord Guantes gave his wife a little nod.

From the corner of her eye, Irene saw Vale move. His eyelid flicked open, then closed again - not the pained blinking of someone slowly regaining consciousness, but a clear signal. He was awake.

‘Guards, stand down!’ Lord Guantes said sharply, raising his voice so that it would carry through the door. ‘That is an order. All stand down.’ His voice echoed in Irene’s bones, and she had to stiffen her arm to prevent her hand from trembling. ‘I will call if there is any additional trouble.’