The Masked City (The Invisible Library 2)

Which meant no opportunity for Zayanna to advance … unless Irene offered her a chance to play a role. ‘From what you’re saying, he’s not interested in losers,’ she said casually. ‘If the Guantes should fail, then he wouldn’t want to know them - he’d deny ever even knowing them in the first place.’

‘Well, naturally,’ Zayanna said. Her eyes narrowed again. ‘Wouldn’t anyone?’

‘Right,’ Irene said, conscious of the enormity of the risk. But if it paid off, she’d actually have a chance. She hauled the wet gun out from her dripping skirts and offered it to Zayanna, butt-first. ‘I need your help, Zayanna. As my ally. As my friend. I want you to stand behind me and use my body to hide the gun while I’m talking. And if the talking doesn’t work, then I’m going to need you to threaten people with it.’ Perhaps a slight hint at emotional involvement might be a good idea. ‘Please?‘ she added hopefully, batting her eyelashes in what she hoped was an appealing fashion.

Zayanna’s eyes widened. ‘You want me to stand behind you with a loaded weapon?’

‘Yes,’ Irene said firmly.

‘Oh, darling.’ Zayanna threw herself against Irene, nestling her head against her chest and wrapping her arms around her, ignoring Irene’s wet rags. ‘Nobody’s ever said anything so romantic to me in all my life.’

Irene gently prised her off, somewhat inconvenienced by the gun in her hand. ‘Let’s do this,’ she said, mentally crossing her fingers that Zayanna was right about Atrox Ferox’s neutrality. He was, after all, the other one with a gun.

He and Athanais were standing in the corridor of the next carriage when Irene opened the door, and he immediately raised his gun. It looked futuristic, sleek and unnaturally large - though that might have been due to it being pointed at her.

She raised her hands above her shoulders, conscious of Zayanna right behind her. ‘Good evening, gentlemen,’ she said pleasantly.

‘Clarice.’ Atrox Ferox eyed her levelly, his dark eyes narrowed. ‘Or would some other name be more appropriate?’

Marvellous, I’m being typecast as a master spy in this story. I think I preferred being underestimated. ‘My real name is unimportant,’ she said, aiming for a note of authority. ‘What matters is why I’m here.’

‘A matter of grand treason, I heard,’ Athanais put in. He was wearing a lute slung across his body, and his hands tensed above the strings as if it was a weapon too. ‘Is there another way of seeing it?’

Irene lowered her hands slowly. Atrox Ferox wasn’t making any move to shoot her, and it was tiring to hold them up. ‘Personally, I’d call it trying to stop a war. Whether or not you’d call that grand treason probably depends on your politics.’

‘Clarification would be useful,’ Atrox Ferox said. He wasn’t lowering his gun, but Irene decided to count the lack of gunfire as promising. ‘Truthful explanation even more so.’

‘Kidnapping a dragon king’s son to auction him off to the highest bidder is an audacious move, I’ll give them that,’ Irene said. She turned to face Athanais, but kept Atrox Ferox just within sight. ‘It could start a war. It might even start a war you could win. Though let’s not go into the consequences for ordinary humans throughout the spheres, shall we? That would just be depressing. But kidnapping a dragon king’s son and then managing to lose him in the middle of Venice, in the Ten’s personal territory? And allowing him to escape? I’m not terribly impressed with Lord and Lady Guantes, not impressed at all. If someone was going to start a war, I’d hope it was someone a bit more efficient. Truly great leaders shouldn’t be so easily foiled. If I were you, Athanais, I wouldn’t call interfering with their schemes “grand treason”. I’d call it a minor action that will save you a great deal of trouble further down the line.’

‘I’m not interested in winning or losing a war,’ Athanais said. His fingers drifted lower, brushing the strings. ‘Maybe just being involved is enough? For the fame, for the story … So I’m not sure that I really care about your argument. It’s a nice effort, I’ll give you that. But it’s not enough to save you.’

‘Maybe it isn’t,’ came Zayanna’s voice from behind Irene, before Irene could work out a new line of reasoning. ‘But this is. If you play a single note, then I will shoot you.’

Athanais swallowed. ‘Atrox! She’s gone traitor too - shoot her!’

‘Shoot her,’ Irene said blandly, ‘and you’ll bring her patron into this as well. Do you really want that?’

‘She’s the one pointing the gun at me, not the other way around,’ Athanais snapped. ‘And as for you - we don’t even know who or what you are. For all we know, you’re another dragon in disguise.’

‘I’m just incognito,’ Irene said, wondering how long she had until Athanais called for reinforcements. If there were guards in the next carriage, it might only take a single shout. ‘This isn’t worth your time. The best thing you can do is step aside and stay well out of the Guantes’ failure. People remember fame and stories, Athanais, but they remember failure too. Get out while you can.’ She saw Atrox Ferox tense, and she braced herself to duck, but he moved in the opposite direction, bringing his gun round to slam the butt into Athanais’ head in a whirl of black steel and leather. The other man slumped, his eyes rolling up in his head, and the lute fell against his body in a squawk of jangled strings.

Irene took a deep breath before saying, ‘Thank you.’

‘Your argument is sound,’ Atrox Ferox said crisply. He gathered Athanais under his left arm, holding the unconscious man against his body. ‘Why expend energy on a lost cause? Even now, if the prisoner were returned, too much power has been lost. The name of Guantes is no longer what it was.’

‘Oh yes,’ Zayanna agreed. ‘He jumped out of his opera box, was washed halfway across the Piazza and had to run to catch the Train - it’s not what one expects of a patron. They ought to be above such things.’ She paused. ‘Clarice, did you have anything to do with any of that?’

‘A little bit,’ Irene admitted as casually as she could, enjoying the image of Lord Guantes being flushed across the Piazza like a wet rag.

Atrox Ferox didn’t quite crack his impassive facade, but his eyes widened and he seemed visibly impressed. ‘When last seen, the Guantes were in the carriage four down. They had two prisoners: the dragon, and another whose powers aren’t known to me. The carriage is guarded. Also, the Train is pursued.’

‘Pursued?’ Irene said in alarm. She hadn’t thought things could get any worse, but here they were. Just another cherry on the cake.

‘Others among our great ones are involving themselves,’ Atrox Ferox said. ‘Even those who had no interest in the dragon would wish to take the Train for themselves - then bind it anew. And the Rider himself comes in force, to reclaim what is his. Thus it flees.’

‘Can they catch it?’

‘Perhaps within the hour.’ Atrox Ferox shrugged, the light catching the steel plating in his bodysuit. ‘Perhaps less, if luck favours them.’