The Masked City (25 page)

The back-stairs were much the same as in any hotel. They were narrow, cramped and full of overburdened people running as fast as possible. Nobody bothered wearing masks back here.

One woman, blonde hair straggling in rat-tails down her back, grabbed Irene’s arm as she staggered past. ‘Have you seen the sausages?’

‘No,’ Irene said.

‘Merciful Virgin, the cook’s going to kill someone,’ the woman screamed, and ran down the stairs again.

Rich panoply of human experience, drama of a Grand Hotel, et cetera,
Irene decided, as she hurried onwards.

She’d noted the servants Silver had brought with him the night before. Enough loitering back-stairs enabled her to spot one, and to follow him to Silver’s suite on the third floor. Irene waited until there was nobody else around, dropped her armload of sheets in a convenient window-seat and knocked on the door.

Johnson opened it, and his eyes widened. He grabbed Irene by the shoulder and pulled her into the highly decorated parlour, slamming the door shut behind her. ‘You’ll get my lord into trouble, coming here in public like this! What do you think you’re playing at?’ he hissed.

‘Johnson?’ Silver’s voice drifted lazily through from the bedroom. ‘Who is it?’

Johnson took a breath and composed his face. He now radiated only mild dislike, as opposed to severe aversion. ‘It’s
her
, my lord.’

‘Oh! Well, do bring the mouse in here. I have a few comments on her performance.’

Without letting go of her shoulder, as if afraid she’d make a run for it, Johnson marched Irene through into the bedroom. It was a splendid room, even more so than the parlour. The walls were polished white plaster that shone like marble, and the floor was a mosaic of tiny pale wooden tiles. The far wall was all window, opening out onto a balcony that overlooked the canal beneath and the building on the other side. Curtains of thin lace were tied back, and the sun shone in. The fog had gone, and the sky was a clear, beautiful blue. The room itself was dominated by the double bed, which jutted out from the wall into the centre of the room, as if feeling the need to emphasize its presence. Silver sprawled on it amid a tangle of pale-blue counterpane and white silk sheets, draped in a midnight-blue silk dressing gown, which left him barely decent. Given the way he lay there with the gown falling open to his waist, Irene was tempted to downgrade that to not decent at all.

He shook his head, mock-sadly. ‘Dear Miss Winters, I thought that I had lost you.’

‘Rubbish, my lord,’ she said crisply. ‘I’m sure you were very glad to get me off your hands.’

‘The one does not preclude the other.’ He toyed with a plate that held sugared twists of dough, crispy little things. Cinnamon was involved. Irene could smell them across the room, and she tried to stop her stomach rumbling. ‘So - I take it there have been no daring rescues yet?’

Irene hesitated. ‘That was a joke, I hope?’

‘Sadly, yes.’ He raised one of the edibles to his lips and nibbled at it. ‘Hmm, very good … I do enjoy coming here. Such a safe, reliable place.’

Those were not words that Irene would have used to describe this alternate at all. She raised an eyebrow and folded her arms under her breasts.

‘Oh, no, that won’t do at all.’ His voice dripped with honey, as rich as an opera singer about to drop an octave in a single sweep of sound. ‘My lady. Do forgive me for referring to you as a mouse. We’re past such things. I feel that we’re failing to establish any sort of proper communication here. I don’t feel truly
needed
, let alone desired. This won’t do.’

Irene stood her ground. ‘Lord Silver.’ She tried not to grit her teeth, because if he sensed her impatience, she might never get answers. ‘If I rescue Kai, it will be of service to both of us, given your feud with the Guantes. I apologize if my manner doesn’t please you, but I have some urgent questions.’

He licked the remains of the sugar off his fingers. ‘I know you do, my little mouse. I know they’re
very
urgent. I think I want to see just how urgent they are. On your knees, mouse. Over here, please.’ He gestured to beside the bed.

For a moment all Irene could think of to say was, ‘What?’ He’d flirted with her before, trailed his glamour at her like a peacock showing off his tail. But he’d behaved as he would have done towards any human being, rather than because he’d actually been
interested
in her. So it had felt comparatively safe.

‘Now.’ Silver gestured loosely at the floor. ‘Oh, don’t worry. I won’t
do
anything to you, mouse. You’re hungry, aren’t you? Hiding all night, scurrying down the corridors …’ He managed to make the words sound both beautiful and depraved at the same time, suggesting unspeakable things about the night and the corridors. ‘Let me feed you. Let me answer your questions.’ His eyes glittered: vicious, avid, hungry. ‘Let me see just how
urgent
your questions are, little mouse. Kneel. Or get out of here.’

She was out of options, out of allies, and Silver was making it personal - clearly very deliberately making it personal. Maybe the novelty of humiliating a Librarian fed power to one such as him.

She set her teeth and did as she was told. The hem of her dress rustled on the floor as she spread it out in a dark billow, sitting back on her heels beside the bed. Johnson had moved across to stand by the door.
Standing guard? Or just not wanting to watch?
It was easier to try to analyse his motivations than to think about her own feelings.

‘There. Much better.’ Silver rolled onto one side, bringing the tray of edibles with him, and lounged on one elbow, looking down at her. ‘It’s good to know that you’re sincere, my mouse.’

Irene looked down at her hands, folded neatly in her lap. It was a matter of some pride that her fingers weren’t clasped white-knuckled around each other, but instead lay perfectly still and calm, as though she were all serenity and self-control. The morning light through the windows was sharp and clear enough that she could see the small scars, thin white traceries, that curled up from her palms onto her wrists. Memories of another confrontation with a monster far worse than Silver could ever be.

Yes. This was simply
petty
. Having her kneel, playing his little games. And why exactly would Silver be wasting his time trying to exert a petty domination over her? People who were actually in control didn’t need to do that.

‘Now where were we? Oh yes. You had some questions. Why don’t you ask one of them.’

‘Where is Kai being held?’ Irene asked.

‘In the Prisons,’ Silver said readily. ‘Or, rather, the
Carceri
, as they’re called here. They are one of the main features of this bijou little sphere, after all. I should have realized
that
was why the auction was being held here, besides just its location. Perhaps a better question would have been a more general one, hmm?’

Irene looked up at him, and she knew that her dislike showed in her eyes. ‘You can expect a number of things from me, but I hope you don’t expect me to enjoy this. And I can’t see why you didn’t tell me that before.’

‘I didn’t tell you previously because I didn’t know,’ Silver said. ‘Messengers from the Ten were waiting at our hostelries to give us the news, to add to the drama. I suppose I might have thought of it myself, but it seemed rather extreme. The
Carceri
were built to hold our own kind. I would have thought that a normal dungeon would be quite good enough for a mere dragon prince. And as for you enjoying this, or not enjoying this, that’s rather the point.’

He picked up one of the small pieces of sugared pastry from his plate. ‘You see, my little mouse, I do need
something
from you. I am Fae, after all, and I can’t sustain myself on honour and helpfulness alone. It’s quite beyond my nature. Much as you’d like me to just answer your important questions. If I can’t provoke some utter and absolute desire, then some thorough shame and hatred will do nearly as well. And I’ll sense if I don’t get it. Now open your mouth, and let me feed you your breakfast—’ He must have caught the way she flinched back from him. She was hardly attempting to hide it. ‘Or you can simply walk out of here, and try to manage on your own. It’s entirely up to you.’

Irene had to take a couple of deep breaths to keep herself kneeling next to Silver’s bed. Her hands knotted in her linen skirts as she focused on not slapping his face. ‘Can we make a bargain?’ she asked.

‘I’m prepared to listen.’ Silver held the pastry just above the level of her face, looking down at her with such an air of appreciation that he should have been licking his lips.

Irene rose to her feet. ‘Then I think I’ll settle for the shame and humiliation.’ Anger ran in her veins, hotter than blood, and she looked down on him in disgust. ‘Yours.’

‘What?’ He had to roll back on his elbow to look up at her, and his dressing gown fell open to bare a triangle of chest. Fragmented desire flickered in her, as she responded to the power he radiated, but it was easily driven back by her irritation. ‘How dare you!’

Irene turned her back on him to walk across the room and seat herself in one of the chairs, taking her time about it and arranging her skirts neatly before replying. ‘Lord Silver. You addressed me as “lady” earlier. I would prefer you to continue doing so, rather than treating me like a subordinate - and an inferior subordinate at that.’

Silver’s eyes caught the light like faceted gems, as his face drew into an arrogant snarl of offended pride. ‘You were the one who came here asking questions,’ he snapped. ‘I don’t like this sort of behaviour, Miss Winters. I don’t like it at all.’ There was that lick of passion to his words again, stronger this time, as he focused on her.

But the fact that he was trying to bargain at all gave Irene the proof she needed. He wasn’t in control of the situation at all - not in general, here in Venice, and definitely not here in this room with her. At this precise moment he needed her help far more than she needed his. And all his little games had been to try and keep her off-balance, to stop her realizing that fact. She let herself smile. ‘Lord Silver, I don’t care what you like or don’t like. Right here and now, if I don’t rescue Kai, Lord Guantes will triumph, and you are doomed. You can give me the information I want, and that might just save you. Or you can lounge in bed and eat pastries until the roof falls in on your head. It is entirely up to you. Because, to be honest, whether or not you meet a horrible fate at Lord Guantes’ hands really doesn’t
matter
to me. Kai matters. You don’t.’

He stared at her. And then he smiled. It wasn’t precisely a nice smile: it was a suggestive curve of the lips, a hint of metaphorical teeth - an expression that left absolutely no humour in his eyes. But it was a smile. ‘My lady Winters, you are blossoming in the airs of this place, like a rose in spring. Do tell me what else you would like to know.’

‘Everything,’ Irene said drily. ‘But we’ll start with these
Carceri
. I assume the name is more than just the word
prison
in Italian?’

Silver swung himself upright, dangling his legs over the edge of the bed. ‘I don’t know how much you little Librarians know about my kind,’ he started. ‘I will assume that you have all the scandalous highlights, but very little of anything useful. So, to start by explaining this place: you know that as my kind grow in power, we become more true to ourselves?’

As in: become walking stereotypes.
Irene nodded in assent, choosing to keep her eyes on his face rather than look elsewhere.

‘Well.’ He selected another piece of pastry. ‘Some of us become so great that we can no longer be confined by a single sphere or world. You know of the Rider, who brought us here?’

Irene nodded again. ‘And his Horse,’ she put in, to show that she was paying attention.

Silver shrugged. ‘That as well. But as we grow stronger, we can walk between worlds. They tremble at our passing.’ He smiled at the thought, and the morning light made his face beautiful in spite of his words. ‘At that level we can no longer touch or enter the shallower spheres, or we would break them - still less endure the small worlds that your friend Kai comes from.’

Irene shivered, grateful that at least some worlds might be free from these most powerful of Fae.

‘I am telling you this, my lady Winters, to explain another power demonstrated by our great ones. At our end of the universe, so to speak, where the forces of chaos dominate, some are so powerful that their power can permeate the very earth upon which they walk. In this way, they can instigate earthquakes, affect the movements of tides, and the like. The dragons think
they
control the elements, but we have our own methods of influencing our worlds.’

Irene frowned, trying to understand. And she
wished
she had a notebook, to preserve all of this for the Library, assuming she made it out alive. ‘So this world - or at least, this Venice - hosts Fae with these types of powers?’

‘Yes, you see you
do
understand. I felt I should warn you, in the interests of fair play.’ He smiled alarmingly. ‘Out here, in places that are more hospitable to my kind, the laws of the physical world are fluid, and the great ones can take advantage of that to bend them to their will. Even while the Fae here play at mortal politics, don’t forget that their power runs through this world like the blood in their veins.’

Well, that explains more about why high-chaos worlds are so dangerous … Am I contaminated? I managed to use the Language last night - but would I know if I was contaminated?
Another thought came to her. ‘And is that why the atmosphere of this place is so injurious to someone like Kai? Just as you - as a being of chaos - would be hampered if you were in a world relying on order.’ And why hadn’t these rulers noticed Irene herself: was she too small for their attention?

‘And there we have the second matter.’ Silver leaned forward, regarding her. ‘This particular sphere has two points that recommend it to many of my kind, including Lord and Lady Guantes in this case. Firstly, it is neutral ground for Fae to some degree, as the rulers of this Venice keep themselves above feuds with others of their kind.’ Irene would have liked to ask more about that, but he continued, ‘This is why the Guantes have managed to invite so many of my powerful kindred to their auction. And disagreements amongst those who are invited must be suspended on this territory. The Council of Ten - the great ones who rule here - are not under the orders of the Guantes. They merely assist, aid and abet them, while playing host to the rest of us.’ He raised a finger to stop words that Irene had not spoken. ‘But don’t assume that this means that the Ten will welcome you too, pet. Quite the contrary. Be careful of whose attention you draw.’