What she needed was a quick exit. And the only way out … was down.
The struggles, and Zayanna’s thrashing, would cover the noise. ‘Boat planks,’ Irene commanded in a low whisper, her lips against the boarding, ‘separate and come apart now!’
It took more out of her than she expected: energy ran out of her like water gushing through a sudden crack in a dam. She barely had the strength left to take a deep breath, but the results were dramatic. The boat came apart, from front to back, with a sudden expelling of timbers in all directions that made her briefly think of exploded diagrams and cut-out-and-make-your-own-gondola pictures.
Briefly.
Then she was in the water.
Irene had been expecting it, which was more than anyone else had been. She was also facing down and ready to dive, while everyone else was standing or fighting. Her hands went to her throat to unclasp her cloak, and she kicked briskly at the water, diving deeper in an attempt to get away from the turmoil on the surface.
The water was cold - the cold of the open sea, fresh from the ocean that fed the city’s tidal canals, and it was dark and full of silt. She had absolutely no idea which direction she was swimming in, after a few strokes, and could only concentrate on trying to get away.
Then something curled around her ankle.
Irene suppressed a scream, holding her breath, and kicked back at whatever - or whoever - it was, suddenly full of the energy of panic. She was running short on air, and while she was fairly sure she was moving away from the boat, that was where her certainty ended.
The thing - or person - grabbed at her ankle again. At the same moment her left arm hit something solid. She lost her focus, surging up to the surface in a sudden rush, emerging next to a building’s foundations. She took a gulp of air, blinking the water from her eyes.
The scene before her was more audible than visual. The fog hid any pursuers from sight, but despite its dampening effects, she could hear the commotion. The gondolier was screaming threats and prayers, ranging from calling on the Virgin to swearing bloody vengeance on the bitches who had destroyed his gondola, but generally focusing on the loss of his gondola. Irene felt a twinge of guilt.
Zayanna popped up next to her, her head and shoulders emerging from the water like a classical statue. Her hair clung wetly to her cheeks and bare shoulders, and her eyes caught the light and glittered in the darkness, her pupils slitted and inhuman. ‘Now how did you do that, darling?’ she breathed, her voice barely audible.
‘Is this really the time?’ Irene hissed back. ‘Can we just get out of here first and discuss things later?’ Hopefully much later - as in possibly never.
‘It’s you they were questioning,’ Zayanna pointed out. ‘I wasn’t involved …’
‘Oh yes, and they’re really going to believe that, when they’re looking for answers. The only reason they weren’t questioning you yet was because they thought you were asleep—’
There was a loud clunk, and the sound of running footsteps near where the action had been taking place. Irene broke off and made a vague swimming gesture with her hand.
Zayanna nodded, letting herself slide back down. Together the two of them swam quietly up the canal, keeping low in the water, their heads barely above the surface.
A couple of hundred yards later, they’d crossed two more canals and nearly been run over by a passing cargo boat, and Irene was feeling far more tired than was normal after a quick swim. ‘Stop a moment,’ she wheezed, trying but failing to make a question of it. She’d lost her shoes somewhere way back in the water, and she wished she was wearing a bikini like Zayanna. It’d make swimming so much easier.
‘Just a teensy bit further and we can get up onto the side of the street here,’ Zayanna called back. She easily swung herself up onto the paving stones, sitting on the canalside with her legs dangling in the water, her skin like liquid gold in the lamplight. Her eyes were normal again. ‘You’re not much of a swimmer, are you?’
‘It’s more of an emergency thing,’ Irene panted. ‘At least I don’t drown.’
‘Is that your only criterion?’ Zayanna kicked at the water, splashing it into the fog in glittering droplets.
‘You’d be astonished how many girls back at my old school almost drowned.’ Irene leaned her elbows on the paving stones, not quite ready to pull herself out yet. She was bone-tired. She wasn’t sure whether to blame the exercise, the use of the Language or the stressful circumstances. Possibly all of the above. She needed to sleep. Just for a little while. She couldn’t save Kai if she was collapsing midrescue from lack of sleep. Even the cold water wasn’t being much help. ‘There was someone every summer term who thought she could swim and then found out she couldn’t. Not to mention the ones who fell through the ice. Swimming well enough not to drown was useful.’
Zayanna tilted her head. ‘It sounds too, too dramatic, darling. Did they train heroes there?’
‘Heroines mostly.’ The language teaching had been world-class too. Literally. ‘I wasn’t one of them.’
‘So what’s actually going on?’ Zayanna raised her hands behind her head to wring some of the water out of her hair. ‘And how did you break the boat?’
This was probably not going to end well. ‘You probably heard what those men in black said,’ Irene said cautiously. ‘It’s true that I was trying to get away before Lord and Lady Guantes noticed me. When you passed out, I took the excuse to leave. I admit it.’