‘Alberich has begun an attack on the Library,’ Vale said. The tension in the room hummed like a violin string as Silver locked eyes with him. He shrugged. ‘As you guessed.’
‘That’s all?’ Silver demanded.
‘It seems quite enough to me.’ And Vale knew that he had far less grasp of the wider implications than Winters or Strongrock. One more demonstration of his insignificance. One more indication of how little power any mere human had, in the greater chess game between warring powers. ‘Now I believe you were going to answer my question.’
Silver scowled petulantly. ‘Very well. No. Nobody with that level of power, or stronger, has come to London within the last month. Or to be fair, if they have, then they’ve been lying remarkably low. And certainly Lady Guantes isn’t here.’
‘I see,’ Vale said. Zayanna claimed to be a refugee from her previous patron and to have just arrived in London. But why should she have avoided Silver, to the extent that he didn’t even know she was present? It was definitely suspicious. He was tempted to ask for Silver’s assistance in locating her, but that would have placed too much information in Silver’s hands.
Vale rose to his feet. ‘Thank you for your assistance. Incidentally, I’d recommend getting more discreet guards. If I could notice that sniper, then so could others.’
Silver didn’t bother standing up. ‘Most kind of you to suggest it,’ he said bitterly. ‘Unfortunately, due to certain people stealing my transport a few months back, when I was in Venice, I was forced to leave most of my entourage there.’
The full implications of that statement trickled into Vale’s mind, forming a horrific picture. ‘Your servants, your maids and bodyguards – you left them there? In another world, with no way of returning here?’
‘I could hardly bring them back myself,’ Silver complained. ‘I had enough trouble bringing Johnson and my luggage along. Don’t look at me like that, Vale. I’m sure they’re quite capable of making new lives for themselves. They’re young, strong, healthy . . .’
‘I’ll see myself out,’ Vale said, and slammed the door behind him.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
It was ten o’clock, and the reception should be in full swing. Irene clung to Kai’s scaled back, her oilcloth cloak floating out behind her in the rising wind, as he hovered high above the Winter Palace. The city beneath them was a grid of lit points against the darkness: they were too high for Irene to see any of the buildings clearly at this time of night, but she could make out the street lamps and the glaring illuminations around the larger buildings. The lights on sleighs in flight flickered in regular paths around the sleigh-port. There weren’t any clouds to block her view. Yet.
Kai was concentrating as he glided through the air, which barred conversation on his part and allowed Irene to run through her mental checklist for the operation.
Evening clothes for both of them: obtained. Even if they were ready-made, rather than personally tailored. (Kai had been rather upset that he couldn’t get a military uniform, since that was apparently the thing for young men to wear to balls. But Irene had pointed out everything that might go wrong, such as Kai not knowing the details of his supposed regiment, and he had reluctantly given in.) Map of Winter Palace and theorized location of book: memorized. And all papers had been destroyed. It was now more dangerous than useful to be carrying the Library documents around. Transformation of Kai into dragon, to rouse storm and land on roof: successfully achieved.
The next step was the storm itself. There would of course be sentries on the roof, but very few would be looking up while being hammered by wind and rain. This explained Irene’s heavy hooded oilcloth cape, which would hopefully keep her mostly dry. Enough to pass as a guest when inside, anyway. If she and Kai were subjected to serious scrutiny, then they were already deep in trouble.
‘I hold the winds and am ready to release them,’ Kai said. His words echoed in the thin air, and Irene tightened her grip on his scales. ‘Are you prepared?’
‘Do it,’ Irene said.
The storm gathered as she watched, clouds spinning together into a great dark whorl that hid the city below. Gusts of wind tugged at her, and she plastered herself even tighter to the dragon’s back, drawing her hood around her face. He swung through the air in a tightening spiral, his wings glittering against the darkness on either side of her. Deep in the clouds lightning flashed, and thunder followed without a moment’s pause.
Kai had said this wouldn’t tire him, but she’d insisted that he get a few hours’ sleep earlier. He’d watched through the night while she slept on the sleigh, and she didn’t know how much sleep dragons needed, but she knew they needed some. They’d taken a room in a cheap hotel, where the woman at the desk had leered at them, jumping to obvious conclusions. The break had kept them off the street, too, enabling them to avoid the increasing numbers of police. Kai had slept like the dead, his chest barely moving. Irene sat in the rickety chair and memorized their maps and plans, and wondered from time to time: What would I do without you? It’s been less than a year, and already I rely on you to be there when I need you, I fall asleep on your shoulder . . .
Imminent disaster first, she reminded herself. Personal issues later.
‘The storm’s as heavy as I can make it without risking a gale,’ Kai rumbled. ‘I’m taking us down.’
He dropped like a hawk through the clouds, accelerating as if the laws of gravity and air resistance were optional rather than obligatory. Maybe they were, to him. The bitter chill cut into Irene’s hands, her elegant lace gloves offering no protection, and the wind moulded her cape against her body. Suddenly there was rain all around them, lashing against them, streaming across Kai’s body in thick rivulets and outlining his scales. He kept on descending through it, as gracefully and uncaringly as if navigating a summer breeze. Irene lowered her head and clung on for dear life.