The Burning Page

‘I would apologize to the Empress, but maybe she’ll be glad of the opportunity to redecorate.’ Irene approached the wall and laid her hands next to Kai’s, bracing herself. ‘Stone wall and foundation and earth that lies between me and the river beyond, crumble and give way, and make a passage to the river large enough for us to pass through.’

It was bad, but not as bad as trying to influence the Empress. What fun, Irene thought grimly through the band of pain pressing on her temple, I now have a whole new standard for how bad things can get. Travel is so educational. She dimly felt Kai’s arm round her waist, supporting her as she leaned against him. I almost think I prefer travelling in worlds on the chaos spectrum; at least I don’t get a headache every five minutes . . .

‘Irene!’ Kai was yelling. ‘Tigers!’

Oh, right, tigers. Tigers were relevant in some way. And tigers were beautiful when there were heavy iron bars between her and them . . .

There were two big tigers pacing down the corridor towards her and Kai. Panic gave Irene a shot of icy-cold adrenaline and yanked her back to awareness, then retired to gibber in the back of her brain and let her take care of things.

Kai snapped his fingers and pointed at the ground. ‘Lie down,’ he said firmly.

One tiger yawned, baring huge white teeth and revealing an implausibly pink tongue. The other simply snarled.

‘Cats,’ Kai muttered. ‘Irene, can you just put them to sleep or something? I don’t want to kill them.’

‘Any particular reason?’ The tigers were getting closer now. They were walking rather than running. Presumably they were meant to guard Irene and Kai till the human guards arrived.

‘They’re such beautiful specimens,’ Kai said. ‘I wish we could take them back for my uncle.’

Irene winced at the thought of trying to drag a couple of unwilling tigers through the Library. ‘Absolutely not,’ she said firmly. ‘You can come back and negotiate with the local dragons on your own time.’

Behind her, the stonework groaned and began to shudder. Irene turned and saw it parting like a pair of lips, as though it was opening its mouth to speak.

But instead of words, water rushed out in a mighty gush that would have plastered Irene against the opposite wall, if Kai hadn’t dragged her out of the way. The tigers fled, turning tail and racing down the corridor, as water came flooding in and gushed knee-high along the passage.

‘I’ve got this,’ Kai said calmly. ‘Hold your breath.’ He advanced into the flow of water. It softened as he touched it, curling around him and Irene, the current weakening to the strength of a gentle stream as he walked forward through it. The narrow hole in the wall was just large enough to admit the two of them. Irene followed him into the darkness, feeling the water brush her face and trail her dress and robes out behind her. And Kai’s power somehow channelled air around them, allowing them to breathe. Icy tendrils stroked her forehead and soothed her headache.

And then they were out into the full force of the river. It swept them up and along, till they surfaced in a bursting wave. Irene was gasping for air now, her arms round Kai’s neck as she let him support her. Her shoes were lost somewhere at the bottom of the Neva, and her clothing was a sodden, unwieldy mass that would probably have drowned her if she wasn’t hanging onto a dragon. The water was bitterly cold. She thought about that, then rephrased to merely bitterly cold, because without Kai’s influence it would be freezing and she’d be passing out from the chill. Thin raindrops scythed down from the overcast sky and stung her face. Street lamps along the embankment cast orange shimmers onto the water, glaring in the darkness.

But they were outside and free to act.

‘Right,’ she said, once she had her breath back. ‘Now for the Library.’

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The Library was still dark when they reached it – if anything, it was darker, with lonely oil-lamps flickering in the silence. It was pouring down outside there too, and the windows of the nearest corridor were smeared with long streaks of raindrops. Irene half-imagined she could hear the ticking of a distant clock, but when she tried to listen there was only silence. The air seemed hot, and she wondered how much of that was real, and how much was her own fear.

She sat in front of the first computer they found, turning it on and then tapping her fingers on the table as it took its time booting up. She begrudged every passing second. Time was not her friend tonight: there were too many emergencies seething in her mind: Alberich, the Library, her parents, Zayanna, Vale . . .

The email screen came up. Irene leaned forward to start typing, but an incoming email immediately filled the screen.

Need talk urgentest, where to meet? Bradamant

‘Typed in a hurry,’ Kai deduced, leaning over Irene’s shoulder.

‘Check this room’s designation, please,’ Irene replied, ignoring him. She was typing up her own email to Coppelia, in prose not much better than Bradamant’s own.

‘A-21, Italian giallo novels, late twentieth century,’ Kai reported.

A-21 Italian giallo novels late twentieth century, or entrance to Vale’s world, which is easier? Irene sent to Bradamant.

Entrance Vale’s world, see you there ASAP, the message came back.

‘We should hurry,’ Kai said, pacing up and down and ignoring the spare chair. ‘If she has something urgent to tell us . . .’

‘Give me a moment,’ Irene said. She was checking current announcements on the network. Unfortunately there weren’t any along the lines of Alberich is dead, everything’s been sorted out, you can all relax and go back to normal. But there were lists of worlds whose gates had been destroyed – a longer list than she’d hoped to see – and there was a list of dead Librarians. She scanned down it, her heart cramping in her chest at the thought that she might recognize a name.