The Burning Page

Zayanna was shivering, folding her arms around herself. Rage warmed Irene: she looked sideways to Kai, letting him respond.

But Kai hesitated.

Irene realized how clear it must seem in his eyes. The logic would be beautifully tempting. Irene was endangering herself: her judgement was faulty, her assessment of the situation incorrect. He should stop her for her own good. He would be serving the Library by keeping her safe. It all made sense, and it was still the most profound sort of betrayal that he should even be thinking it, that he could look at her and entertain those thoughts and not be ashamed.

Irene turned to Li Ming. ‘You may try to restrain me,’ she said, her voice as cold as the rising wind. ‘You will not succeed. I must be on my way. Zayanna.’ She grabbed the Fae’s wrist.

Li Ming nodded, as if he wasn’t surprised, and extended a hand to grasp Irene’s shoulder.

Kai caught his wrist a moment before Li Ming touched her. The chill that sheathed Li Ming’s hand brushed Irene’s skin like fresh snow, and she pulled away, dragging Zayanna with her.

‘Wait,’ Kai said, and all the subtones of hierarchy and command were suddenly in his voice. But he was saying it to Li Ming, not to her. ‘She has my permission to do this.’

‘Your highness, this is folly . . .’ Li Ming protested. Irene glanced over her shoulder as she and Zayanna hurried to the door and saw that even though neither dragon moved, they were locked in position as they struggled against each other. This wasn’t mere courtesy. It was two forces of nature, both looking less human by the second, as scales marked their skin and their eyes gleamed draconic red. The wind outside howled, denied its target.

Irene didn’t waste any more time. With a nod of farewell to Vale and Singh, she was out of the room and rattling down the stairs, Zayanna right behind her.

The street outside was full of wind: it rolled through like a physical thing, rattling windows and slamming shutters, ripping the fog away to show the lightening sky. Irene hadn’t let go of Zayanna, for fear that she might vanish around a corner and never come back. ‘So how do we get there?’ she asked.

Zayanna sighed. ‘You take my hand and we walk, darling. Or perhaps we just keep on running. I can’t manage a horse, much less a carriage. I’m afraid it’s going to be tedious.’

‘You can tell me about Alberich’s sphere as we go,’ Irene suggested. They turned left down a dark side alley. It was the sort of place that Irene would normally avoid, but Zayanna sprinted down it without a moment’s hesitation.

‘It looks mostly like a library,’ Zayanna gasped. ‘I’m not sure whether it originally looked that way, if he made it look that way, or if it’s getting to look that way because it’s moving into the place of your Library. I told you that metaphysics really isn’t my thing. So confusing.’ She turned left, into another side street. This had slick grey concrete walls that reached further above their heads than should have been possible in that area of London. The wind had gone, and the air was still and hot, stinking of oil.

‘Well, does Alberich have guards?’ Irene asked.

‘I didn’t see any.’ Zayanna frowned a little, a thin line between her elegant brows. She’d slowed her pace from a run to a fast walk. ‘I mean, there were a few people there, but they were just people. You know – or have you never been that far into chaos before? When you go too far in, normal humans don’t have very much real personality. They’re awfully responsive when they’re needed for background parts, but they don’t have much staying power, if you take my meaning. They’re not as meaningful to work with as other Fae, or even dragons or Librarians like you.’

Irene mentally shuddered at the thought. People with no genuine personality of their own, simply walk-on scenery or character parts for Fae psychodramas. ‘You should be careful,’ she said sardonically. ‘At this rate you’ll be convincing yourself that if the Fae did win, and chaos took over all the worlds, you’d still ultimately have lost – by missing out on all those interesting interactions with other people. It sounds rather self-defeating.’

‘Maybe, darling, but we’re hardly the only contradictory ones.’ Zayanna turned left again, her frown deeper. They were walking between grey stone walls, the cobbles beneath their feet damp with the morning dew. Lilac overhung the walls, its scent sweet in the morning air. ‘What was Li Ming saying about places which are so orderly and mechanical that even dragons or humans can’t exist? People do keep on talking about wanting a war, so that their side will win. But ultimately all they really want is for their side to be a bit better off. Nobody wishes for their side to triumph completely.’ She paused, considering that statement, and clarified it. ‘Nobody sane, that is.’

‘Ay, there’s the rub,’ Irene muttered. She tried to remember where in Shakespeare that was from. Hopefully not one of the tragedies. ‘I wish I was simply back amongst the books again.’

‘We could go hunting books after this,’ Zayanna suggested. ‘We’ll steal them from that silver dragon’s private library—’

‘Oh no we won’t,’ Irene said hastily, before Zayanna could make that bad idea any worse. ‘Besides, you can’t be a Librarian.’

‘I think that’s very prejudiced of you all.’ The passage was now so narrow they were forced to walk in single file, though Irene kept her grip on Zayanna’s hand. ‘Why can’t I steal books too?’