The Masked City (12 page)

‘That is correct,’ the dragon - Irene decided just to think of the person as
the dragon
, for there was no way this was anything but a dragon - said. ‘When you say that something has occurred, what exactly do you mean?’

‘Kai has left the world where he was training as my Library apprentice,’ Irene said, her voice as cool as Tsuuran’s. She decided to consider the dragon as masculine. If he introduced himself as ‘Mr’, who was she to argue the point? ‘I received a message shortly afterwards claiming to be from his family - saying he’d returned to them. If I have in some way given offence to his family, then naturally I wish to apologize. But if something else has happened, well …’ She spread her hands, aware that the six presumed bodyguards were tensing again. ‘My own responsibility towards Kai made me wish to investigate.’

There was a long silence. Then Tsuuran made a small gesture with his left hand, and the ring of bodyguards stepped back. ‘Kindly step into my office,’ he said.

The room beyond the door on the right was full of space and light, floored and walled in the same tiling as the corridor. But its ceiling rose to twice the height of the corridor outside.
This floor and the one above must be somehow merged,
Irene realized. A black granite desk in the centre caught the eye and dominated the room, as was clearly the intention. On the right wall were more windows, but on the left she was pleased to note a neat set of bookshelves, and a starkly elegant dark filing cabinet. The latter seemed out of place, in a world as full of computer technology as this one. In the far wall was a single door.

Tsuuran leaned against the desk. ‘The message?’ he said.

‘Earlier this morning - ‘ Yes, it was still the same day, wasn’t it? ‘ - I returned home from work to find that Kai wasn’t there, and we had agreed to meet.’ She wasn’t going to say
our lodgings
until she had a bit more data on dragons cohabiting with humans. ‘We’d been warned we might be in danger, so I was worried. And then this was delivered.’ She removed the note from her handbag, still in its envelope, and offered it to Tsuuran.

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.’

Thank god, I haven’t done anything too far wrong - yet.
‘Your majesty,’ she answered, her voice as firm as she could make it, ‘I am grateful for your kindness. I apologize that I have no suitable gift.’ She felt a stab of apprehension. After all, gifts were expected on State visits.

Ao Shun inclined his head. ‘I understand that you have come in haste, and I place concern for my nephew’s wellbeing above any number of gifts.’

Irene could take a hint to get to the point. ‘I have already told - ‘ What honorific should she use? Well, he was a king’s personal assistant. ‘ - Lord Tsuuran what I know. I may be entirely wrong, your majesty, and if so I apologize humbly. But I could not risk the possibility that the note was a fake, and that I was leaving Kai in danger.’

Ao Shun gestured for her to continue, and Irene quickly ran through the day’s events.

He nodded as she drew to a close. ‘I see. And your own connection with my nephew is a discreet one, perhaps?’

Irene blinked, and the floor seemed a wonderful thing to examine at this precise moment. Discussing her ‘relationship’ with Kai, with his terrifying and inhuman uncle, was going to be very difficult.
But he’s surely not going to have me thrown out for debauching Kai - is he? Especially since I haven’t debauched him. I have gone to great effort not to debauch him.
But her cheeks had flushed red, and she could guess how that would look. She had to say something. ‘We do share lodgings, your majesty, but, as you say, we are discreet.’

‘Mnh.’ The noise was non-committal. It wasn’t aggressive, though. Irene tentatively relaxed for a moment, and hoped she hadn’t committed herself to a lifelong relationship.

‘Might I ask the names and family lines of your parents?’ Ao Shun enquired.

‘My parents are both Librarians, your majesty,’ she answered. Ao Shun’s eyes abruptly slitted, and she felt something go cold in her stomach. Had she said the wrong thing? ‘My mother’s chosen name is Raziel, and my father is Liu Xiang.’ A mythical name for the Angel of Mysteries taken from one alternate, and a historical name from another alternate, chosen after the first cataloguer of Han China’s Imperial Library; Librarians couldn’t resist a meaningful pseudonym. ‘They have never told me what their names were before they joined the Library.’

‘You must forgive my surprise,’ Ao Shun said. It hadn’t looked like surprise so much as cold alertness, but Irene definitely preferred it to have been surprise. ‘I had not been aware that those sworn to the Library took partners and sired children. I had been told your devotion to your duty came above all other things.’

Irene could feel a blush crawling over her face again. ‘Your majesty, it’s because of them that I became a Librarian myself. I have always admired their work.’

Ao Shun nodded slowly. She still couldn’t read his expressions, and she wished that he was in fully human form like Kai. ‘In that case, you follow a proper course of action in continuing to serve your Library.’

She heard the door whisper open and close again behind her, and Ao Shun addressed Tsuuran. ‘You have the pictures, Li Ming?’

‘Yes,’ Tsuuran - or should that be Li Ming? - said. Irene turned slightly, enough to see him standing to one side. He was holding a thin tablet whose screen glowed faintly in the dark room.

‘Irene,’ Ao Shun said, addressing her once again. It seemed strange to hear her personal name from him. Perhaps it was because his voice reminded her of Kai, and that made her uncomfortable. ‘Two individuals have been seen observing my territory in this world. It would ease my mind if you could tell me that you had not seen them.’ There was something patronizing about his attitude now, even considering his regal aloofness.
Does he really believe me that Kai is in danger?
She felt a spike of impatience twinned with dread - Kai could be in so much danger right now, while she chatted with his family.

The tablet showed two separate photographs. On the right, a woman, standing. Her long dark hair was clipped back at the base of her neck, and fell over one shoulder in loose waves. She had a pleasant smile, with just the faintest touch of reserve in her eyes that made the smile look genuine rather than forced. A navy blazer was slung over one shoulder. Under it she wore a white sleeveless top and a pair of navy cropped trousers. The backdrop was the dock of an old port or fishing village. Thin white cotton gloves covered her hands, going up her arms to her elbows.

On the left she saw a man, seated, a cigar in one gloved hand. He sat at a table in a restaurant - and a very expensive restaurant, by the look of the decor. He was neatly bearded, with a moustache that framed his mouth. Iron-grey hair receded from his forehead in a widow’s peak, and well-defined eyebrows hooded his eyes. His clothing seemed as expensive as the setting: a business suit and silk tie.