The Burning Page

Vale snorted and turned away, strolling across to the window. As in the rest of the room, smears of dust marred the windowsill and the corners of the panes. ‘I do not jump to conclusions. I deduce, based on evidence.’

‘Yes, yes, I know,’ Silver said soothingly, ‘and very elegant it all is. But you said something about current events. You make a very unlikely angel to wake me from my flowery bed, Vale. Do explain.’

‘Very well. Have you heard any recent news about Alberich?’

The name hung in the air between them. Silver slowly steepled his fingers, watching Vale over them. His expression was hard to define, but it certainly wasn’t surprised. ‘I wonder why Miss Winters isn’t the one here asking that question.’

‘Winters is a busy woman,’ Vale said. ‘I thought I’d save her the time and drop by myself.’

‘Where is she at the moment?’ Silver’s tone was casual, but his eyes were narrowed in thought.

‘Oh, elsewhere.’ Vale waved a hand vaguely. ‘Out and about. She’s remarkably bad at leaving a forwarding address, I find. Is there something you feel you should tell her?’

‘Well, I might speculate,’ Silver said. ‘I don’t have a horse in this race myself, but it does seem to be a free-for-all to all comers. From what I’ve heard, at least.’

Vale dropped into the chair opposite Silver, ignoring its uncompromising design, and focused on the Fae. ‘I’ve yet to come across a situation where you didn’t take one side or the other. It’d be unusual for you to be genuinely neutral.’

‘You know me so well.’ A smile of wry amusement flickered across Silver’s face. ‘I should be flattered you spend so much time scrutinizing my habits.’

‘Don’t be,’ Vale said, his tone as caustic as he could make it. ‘I hardly enjoy the experience. You are one of the most notorious roués in London.’

‘One tries,’ Silver agreed. He reached out to take a glass of hangover remedy, which had been swiftly fetched by the attentive Johnson, and downed the contents with a wince. ‘One tries very, very hard indeed.’

‘So how do you see the current situation?’

‘Well, what I know is that Alberich’s been looking for assistance.’ Silver set the glass down on its tray, abruptly serious. ‘And before we go any further, detective, I want your word that what I’m about to say will clear any debts – which I may or may not owe you from the Venice business.’

‘“May or may not owe me?” ’ Vale said. ‘That sounds remarkably uncertain.’

‘I dislike admitting that I owe anyone a debt. I’m sure you can understand that.’

‘And so you’re weaselling around your obligations.’

‘If owing a favour ever becomes a matter of life or death for you, too, then perhaps you’ll understand,’ Silver snapped. ‘For the moment, you will just have to accept that such things can cause a great deal of trouble. So if I tell you what I know about current goings-on, will you consider our debt cleared?’

Vale knew that the Fae were bound to keep their given word. It was one of the more useful pieces of information about them, together with the fact that cold iron weakened their powers. He wasn’t going to object to these little advantages: the Fae were irksome, and their glamours were inconvenient, as well as borderline illegal. ‘You have my word that I will consider the debt cleared, in return for you telling me what you know about “current events”. I can’t speak for Winters.’

‘Yes, such a pity she’s not here,’ Silver said. ‘I’d be enjoying this discussion a great deal more if I was having it with her.’ While he did not quite lick his lips at the thought, his expression suggested a barely restrained carnality.

Vale could only be grateful that Winters was elsewhere. Even if she was quite capable of handling Silver, she would certainly not enjoy being exposed to his insinuations. Her behaviour last night, towards Vale himself, was something quite different from this . . . impropriety. ‘You overrate yourself,’ he said briefly.

‘And I thought we were going to be civil.’

‘You are the instigator of a dozen conspiracies here in London. You’re running at least one spy ring that I know of out of your embassy. And in the Venice affair you knowingly sent Winters into a situation that might have killed her, or worse, purely to save your own miserable hide. I would say that I’m being remarkably civil.’ Vale leaned back in his chair, as much as it allowed. ‘Would you like me to go on?’

Silver looked up at the ceiling as though demanding patience from some unseen deity. ‘Oh, by all means go on. I’m hardly unaware of your opinion of me. I rather appreciate it. But if you actually want information, then perhaps you should let me speak.’

Vale was forced to concede Silver’s point. ‘Continue,’ he said tersely, mentally saving a few choice insults for a later opportunity.

‘Alberich has a number of allies among the Fae,’ Silver began. ‘To put it bluntly, he’s done favours and he’s owed favours. A couple of months back, shortly after the Venice business, I heard rumours that he’d been looking for . . . collaborators, shall we say. A step up from agents, but far from being equal partners. The sort of Fae who are weaker than I am, but still strong enough to walk between the worlds on their own.’

‘Indeed,’ Vale said neutrally. His mind flashed back to the woman Zayanna and her plausible but unsupported tale. ‘Do go on.’