The Masked City (26 page)

Irene suppressed a sigh. Just one more detail that he’d omitted. ‘This would have been useful, if you had mentioned it earlier,’ she said.
Like when we were planning this.
‘But I thought that, historically, the Council of Ten were just advisors to the Doge, and he was the actual ruler when Venice dominated the area—’

‘Oh, history,’ Silver cut her off. ‘You’ll be talking about reality next, as if it was something special too. In
this
Venice the Council of Ten rule the city from the shadows, and all fear them. They play with each other’s agents, just for the fun of it, but they always hold together against outsiders.’

‘And why are the Ten helping the Guantes?’ Irene asked.

Silver shrugged. ‘While the Ten don’t necessarily support the Guantes, they certainly aren’t going to turn down a possible advantage. If there is a war, they’ll be nowhere near it - the dragons can’t reach them here. No, the Ten will let matters play out, and will gain from hosting the auction. It’s a sensible choice.’

‘If you say so,’ Irene responded. It wasn’t worth arguing. ‘But is this explanation going somewhere?’

‘It leads directly to my next point,’ Silver said. He swung to his feet, pacing in her direction. ‘The prison. Or should that be the Prison? Or the Prisons? The
Carceri
. They were designed by Piranesi …’ He caught the look on Irene’s face. ‘You’re frowning. Perhaps in some other place and time this Piranesi fellow spent his life making etchings of Roman ruins, and kept his prisons imaginary. Here they’re real. They are the underbelly of this sphere’s imagination, the foundation on which this city is built.’ He leaned in closer. ‘To create a city in constant paranoia, my pet, where spies watch each other and run around like rats, where everyone fears what lies behind their neighbours’ masks, where you can post an anonymous denunciation every morning before the very Doge’s Palace … Why, for that, my little mouse, you must have prisons. Dark, choking prisons, secreted in the attics or in the cellars. But even worse than that, even more frightening, are the prisons that lie
elsewhere
, in dimensions only accessible via passages leading down into the darkness, to great echoing rooms and long rows of cells.’

His eyes held hers, and his voice was like silk against her skin, something trustworthy but tempting, impelling her to drink in his words rather than analyse and think. ‘In the further Prisons, the
Carceri
, nobody will ever find you - because nobody will ever know where you are. There is no sunlight and no wind, only the movement of air from great turning wheels, which seeps down the long passageways and stairwells. There is no fresh water and no tides, only the deep pools of ancient water that will never stir. You’ll find old stone, old timbers, old chains and racks, and all of it more enormous than you can imagine - older than time, and more patient than eternity.’

His hand cupped her face and he bent in to brush his cheek against hers, to whisper in her ear. ‘And if you are caught, my dear, that will be where they will take you, however much you scream and struggle, however prettily you beg, however desperately you fight.’ His voice caressed the words. ‘And they will keep you there until they have decided how best to … dispose of you.’

She was drowning in his closeness, his presence, his hair like silk against her cheek, his voice in her ear, his hands on her face and her neck. Long, cool fingers that traced across her skin and left her shivering and faint. All her responsibilities pulled at her and tried to draw her away - the reason why she’d come here, the Library brand across her back. But all she wanted was to want what he wanted, to let go of the petty discomforts of reality and to fall down into his eyes, to see where that voice and those hands would take her.

Which was
not
going to happen.

She braced herself by holding on to all that she was -
I am a Librarian, I am Irene, I am not anyone’s victim -
and dug in her metaphorical heels. Perhaps this was Silver’s story. But it wasn’t hers. She was not going to play his game. ‘Lord Silver,’ she said, her voice grating to her own ears, after the soft velvet of his tone, ‘you haven’t finished telling me everything I need to know.’

‘But do you really care?’ He drew back a little, enough to look her in the eyes. ‘Wouldn’t you rather …’ He let it trail off, but the meaning was clear.

He’d rather spend his time seducing me than let me save him from certain destruction.
And that really said everything one needed to know about Fae who had gone too far into their archetype.

Irene put her hands on his shoulders, holding him away from her. ‘Yes, I do care,’ she said. ‘And no, I wouldn’t.’

Silver drew back from her in a smooth flex of movement that she couldn’t help interpreting as
elegantly muscular and seductive
, even if the functioning part of her brain labelled it as a flounce. ‘I could turn you in,’ he said. ‘The Ten would appreciate a Librarian spy to question.’ It was meant to sound like a casual threat, delivered from a position of power, but she saw the fear in his eyes, and it came out as a petulant complaint.

‘And I suppose you’d say you lured me here to hand me over,’ Irene said. She kept her own tone balanced and uncaring. The one who cracked first was the one who would lose in this Fae game. And the stakes were too high for that person to be her.

‘Well, of course.’ Silver shrugged. ‘And anything you’d say about me inciting you to rescue the prisoner would be dismissed as lies.’

Irene let herself smile. ‘Then you wouldn’t care that I would be accusing you of collusion with the dragons to rescue Kai,’ she said.

Silver stared at her. ‘Nobody would believe you.’

‘Ah, but we’re in Venice.’ Irene shrugged, just as he had done. ‘You said it yourself. This is a city of spies and prisons. We’ll end up in adjoining cells. If I go down, Lord Silver, then so do you. You have
everything
to lose.’

A threatening silence filled the air between them, louder than any argument. Outside, the lapping of the canals and the distant ringing of bells seemed to be a thousand miles away, as the two of them stared at each other.

He was the first to look away.

‘You believe Kai is there,’ she said. Best to get the information and then get out of there, before he tried to challenge her again. ‘In those Prisons, those
Carceri
. Are they part of what this Venice offers to visitors? The ideal prisons to hold one’s enemies?’

Silver shrugged. ‘So I believe. I haven’t been in there myself, needless to say. They say that the
Carceri
could hold ones who are far stronger than me. I am sure your dragon would be a mere fly-speck within them.’

‘Then where in Venice are they?’

‘If I knew, my lady Winters, then I would tell you, but unfortunately I don’t know. The Ten consider it, shall we say,
inappropriate
to share that sort of information, and I have to say that I see their point. But all my sources do agree that you can only reach the
Carceri
from somewhere here in Venice.’

In that case there was little point wasting her time questioning him further. ‘So, Lord Silver, to summarize: Kai is somewhere here, in a prison that can only be reached from this city, but you don’t know where the entrance is, or how to get in, or what the conditions inside may be - except in terms that a pseudo-Gothic melodramatic author would consider overblown. And you are, I presume, unwilling to be of any further assistance, in case it is traced back to you. Though if I
am
caught, we both know Lord and Lady Guantes will assume that you were to blame in any case.’

‘Accurate on the whole,’ Silver agreed. ‘Except for that comment on my prose style.’

‘Well, in that case, Lord Silver …’ Irene considered her immediate needs. ‘I need a pair of shoes, a cloak or shawl, some money, a knife and directions to the nearest large collection of books. Given all that, I will do my best to avoid contacting you again.’

Silver frowned. ‘Is that bribery, my lady?’

Irene rose to her feet. ‘Merely pointing out our mutual advantage, Lord Silver. You will no doubt be watched, if the Guantes suspect you. If I stay well away from you, it’s safer for both of us.’

Silver considered, toying with the collar of his dressing gown. Finally he said, ‘You may be right, my lady. Johnson! See to all of that, if you please. And one more thing.’ He took a step closer. ‘I wasn’t speaking in jest when I said the airs of this place will be antithetical to your dragon. As a Librarian, you are neutral to it, and you’re wearing the tokens I gave you, which shield you a little. The dragon is purely antagonistic to this world. Once you release him, you had best make plans to remove him from this sphere as fast as possible. And yourself, too.’

‘I don’t intend to stay,’ Irene said flatly. ‘This place may be your ideal holiday destination, sir, but it is hardly mine.’

Silver shook his head sadly. ‘Some day, my lady, some day.’ He gestured towards Johnson, who promptly filled Irene’s arms with a bundle of fabric. ‘Johnson, is that … ?’

‘The requested items, sir,’ Johnson said tonelessly. ‘And the most appropriate library for this person’s wishes will probably be the Biblioteca Marciana - that is, the Library of St Mark.’ He rattled off a list of directions, and Irene frowned as she committed them to memory. It was close - well, fairly close - to the Piazza San Marco, and if she remembered correctly, that was the main city square. This could be good or it could be bad. At least it should mean large crowds.

‘That will do,’ Silver said as Johnson fell silent. ‘My lady, kindly excuse me. I have a full morning ahead of me, and you have roused me early, so I may as well take advantage of it.’ His smile contained nothing specific to which she could take offence, but it managed to imply a dozen things, all of them sensual.

‘I’ll be on my way then,’ she said, as silence filled the room.

‘If you truly need me,’ Silver said, ‘I will be at the opera later today, at the performance that precedes the auction. Look for me there.’

‘Let’s hope I don’t have to,’ Irene said bluntly. She turned away from him, striding towards the door.

Johnson held it open for her. He leaned in towards her. ‘Get him in trouble,’ he hissed, his tone suddenly sharp, suddenly
human
, ‘and I’ll kill you.’

He slammed the door behind her.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The first thing Irene did was get some food and a cup of coffee.

Well, that was her initial
objective
. First she had to pad her new shoes until they fitted, wrap her new shawl round her head and shoulders, hide her new knife (small but sharp) and her purse, then make her way to the Piazza San Marco. She’d find a hoard of cafes there, and she needed to scope out the area near the Biblioteca Marciana.

Her fingers brushed the jade pendant again. She only had until midnight. The sense of urgency that goaded her on made any wasted time feel criminal, even stopping for food. But, unlike the Fae, she was still human, and had human needs

The Piazza San Marco was only a few hundred yards from the Gritti Palace. Irene confirmed her status as a new arrival by standing still the moment she entered it, nearly being run over by the people behind her. It was … it was so full of
light
. The huge public square had what must be the Basilica at one end, topped with bulbous domes and covered with marbles and mosaics. It was imposing and glorious and, yes, utterly beautiful. The light flowed around it as if it had risen from the waves, and it blazed with gold and colour. To the right of and joined to the Basilica there was another huge building. It was rectangular, more prosaic, despite its pastel colouring. It was built from marble in shades of pink and white, which would have looked trite or washed-out under English sunlight - but in the Venetian morning light it glowed, triumphant and powerful. Other buildings lined the sides of the Piazza, and a high bell tower stood in the middle, constructed from fluted red brick, topped with marble and bronze. It was also at least a hundred yards tall. Well, it might have been a little shorter, but it
looked
at least a hundred yards tall. Last night it had felt as if she was drowning in the omnipresent water and mists. Today, in the sunlight, it felt as if she was floating on them - as if all Venice was floating.