The steam whistle screamed, but this was a cry of joyous liberation, wild freedom finally allowed to run loose. The whole engine car shook, and the Train began to move.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
For a long moment all Irene could do was lean over, rest her hands on her thighs and breathe. The wet fabric of her skirts soothed her scoured palms, and there was a great aching numbness in her mind. She’d done it. The Train was moving. All three of them were safely on board.
They’d done it.
Outside the window she could see nothing but dark water, shivering and tossing, with distant lights catching the foam-caps. Hopefully it would be a quicker journey back to Vale’s London than it had been to get here in the first place. The atmosphere on the Train must be nearly as toxic to Kai as Venice was.
She opened the engine car door, then hesitated. The carriage beyond was not the one that she had just left. The Train must somehow have readjusted itself, to bring her so quickly to this end of its structure. ‘Ah …’ she started, feeling a bit foolish addressing the Train in so conversational a way. ‘Please can you return me to the carriage containing my companions?’
The carriage was silent.
All right. That was probably a ‘no’, so she had a walk ahead of her. Shouting at the Train would be a waste of time - but slamming the door did make her feel better.
Just as before, each carriage was different and displayed new heights of luxury. The only shoddy element here was her. And as she travelled the length of the Train it seemed to be moving more erratically than before, with the juddering and shaking of a regular steam train. Each step had Irene swaying in order to keep her balance.
The sixth compartment also seemed empty, until she spotted someone lounging on a black velvet sofa with a glass of pale-green liquor. It just wasn’t the person she’d been expecting to see.
‘Zayanna?’ she said blankly.
‘Clarice!’ Zayanna attempted to hide the glass of liquor under the sofa, but some of it spilled, and the scattered drops left hissing marks in the carpeting. She was back in her bikini, her long bronzed limbs artfully displayed against the sofa’s darkness, hair tumbling down over one shoulder. ‘I was just about to get back to searching …’ She frowned. ‘Wait a moment. It was you that I was supposed to be searching for?’
‘It was?’ Irene tried to think of a plausible lie. ‘Well, you’ve found me now, so you don’t have to worry about it—’
Then her brain cut in. Zayanna was on the Train, apparently searching for her. Which meant that others would be seeking her too. And Vale and Kai … Her stomach dropped.
‘Why were you looking for me?’ She desperately wanted any answer except the one she expected.
‘Well.’ Zayanna was absently twisting a tendril of hair, but she was also watching Irene closely from under lowered eyelashes. ‘There was this rumour that you’d rescued the dragon and were escaping with him. Darling. And we were with you earlier, so we were tagged as potential conspirators - until we agreed to help with the search, just to prove how non-involved and non-traitorous we are. Darling.’
Irene spread her arms wide. ‘Do I look as if I’ve got a dragon hidden anywhere?’
‘No,’ Zayanna said readily. ‘That’d be because he’s now being held further down the Train.’
Irene took a deep breath. ‘Well then,’ she said, and was surprised at how normal her voice sounded. Where was the utter stomach-churning, headache-inducing exasperation - no, fury - at yet one more obstacle in her way, one more damned interference by the damned Guantes? ‘I’ll just have to do something about that.’
Zayanna frowned. ‘Are you absolutely sure you should be telling me that, Clarice?’
‘Look at it this way,’ Irene said. Her hand sought the butt of the gun that was still somehow concealed in her soggy skirts. The gunpowder would be thoroughly soaked by now, but Zayanna didn’t know that. ‘Is it really in your best interests to get into a confrontation with an armed, dangerous, dragon-rescuing type like me? Seriously, Zayanna, I thought you were complaining earlier because you never managed to interact with heroes.’
‘I was complaining that I never got to seduce heroes, darling,’ Zayanna smiled. She twirled her hair again, her teeth gleaming and more than a little pointed. ‘But it’s very sweet that you were actually listening.’
‘Hand me over to the Guantes and you won’t even get that chance,’ Irene said, mentally resigning herself to a potential inconvenient seduction routine. Still, if Zayanna was anything like Silver, she’d probably get just as much out of Irene turning her down - as long as it was melodramatic enough. But first she had an escape to organize. ‘Is anyone in the next carriage?’
‘Atrox Ferox and Athanais,’ Zayanna said. She frowned. ‘Are we talking a serious seduction here? A really truly thing of passion?’
‘A sporting chance at one, if we get out of this alive,’ Irene said. She might be laying it on a bit thick, but Zayanna seemed to be buying it. But how far could she push the other woman? ‘Do you know if Atrox Ferox or Athanais have patrons who are inclined to stability, or to war with the dragons? And what of your own?’
‘The Lord Judge is Atrox Ferox’s patron, and he’s inclined to stability,’ Zayanna offered without hesitation. ‘So Atrox Ferox is here to report on events, rather than because of any alliance with the warmongering Guantes. No question, darling, the Lord Judge is one of those known quantities you can depend upon. But I don’t know about Athanais. Or his patron. If he has one.’