The Burning Page (The Invisible Library 3)

Both windows in the room flew open, dragging their latches out of the sockets. They were sash windows, the up-and-down vertical sort, and they rose to their full height, hitting their upper limits with enough of a bang to crack the panes. Glass came tinkling down on the windowsills and fell into the room, as the cold morning fog washed in.

The writing on the papers had dissolved into a constant wash of words in the Language: tangled, nonsensical vocabulary but no actual sentences, not even coherent phrases. The attaché case was shuddering where it lay on the table, jerking in place as though it had been electrified, and the rising buzz of power was clear enough now that even Vale and Singh could hear it.

Irene sheathed her hands in the battered folds of her skirt in an attempt to protect them, and flipped the lid of the attaché case shut. There was a jolt as she touched it, a painful vibration that echoed in her bones and made her grateful that the contact was only momentary. ‘Kai,’ she ordered, ‘help me with the table!’

Fortunately Kai caught her meaning instantly. Gritting his teeth, he grabbed one side of the table as she caught the other. They ran across to the window together, pitching the case and its papers into the empty street outside.

The explosion shattered the remaining glass in the windows and seared the air with a wave of scorching heat. Everyone in the room ducked, even Li Ming. Then there was silence, except for the clinking of broken glass falling to the ground.

Muffled shouting started outside, with the thumps of people throwing open their own windows and leaning out to see what was going on, to complain, or both.

Irene shook her hand, trying to work the vibration out of it. ‘I’m very sorry about your papers,’ she said inadequately to Li Ming. ‘I hope there was nothing too significant in there?’

Li Ming looked wistfully in the direction of his attaché case, then shrugged. ‘Nothing too important,’ he said, and Irene couldn’t work out if he was being ironic or not. He continued, ‘Only some possible drafts for a treaty, in the event that the Library might wish to petition my lord and his brothers for protection. I take it that was Alberich’s interference just now?’

‘It was, yes,’ Irene agreed, part of her responding automatically while the rest of her mind registered that they had hit dangerous political waters. Throwing themselves on the mercy of the dragon kings was certainly an option for the Library, in terms of sheer survival. But it would mean they’d lose their all-important neutrality. However nicely the dragon kings might put it, from that point onwards the Library would be their dependant. And however much autonomy might be promised in those treaties, at some point the Library would end up taking orders.

She glanced across and saw Kai frowning, clearly going through the same mental calculations. She couldn’t really blame the dragon kings for taking advantage of the situation. It was the practical, politically sensible thing to do. That was how rulers reacted when they saw an opportunity. But that also put limits on what she could expect from Li Ming, here and now, in terms of help against Alberich . . .

Also, how much had Alberich seen just now? She didn’t know how much the person on the far end of this sort of connection – whether it was the Library or Alberich – could pick up from the other side. Maybe Alberich could merely sense she was present, and his actions were the metaphysical equivalent of tossing a grenade into the room. Or maybe Alberich could actually see who else was present. Such as Zayanna. In which case . . . nodded. ‘Good.’ They could take in a strike team of Librarians, disable whatever Alberich had done and hopefully dispose of Alberich while they were at it. Problem sorted. Admittedly it was a very sketchy plan, but it was one hundred per cent more of a plan than she’d had half an hour ago. She turned to Li Ming. ‘I apologize for the delay. You have a message for Kai?’

‘For his highness, and for you by implication. My lord knew that his highness would pass you the information anyway.’ Li Ming favoured Irene with a quick, understanding smile. He put his attaché case on the battered table, opening it and exposing the written documents inside. The black ink of the writing seemed to draw the light, as if the fact that they could see it now gave it an unhealthy significance. ‘We have a proposal—’

Then the air pulsed as though it was the surface of a drum struck by a careless hand, and the buzz of chaos-tainted Library power washed through the room.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Li Ming’s attaché case sprang fully open, as though an unseen hand had flipped back the lid. The writing on the papers inside writhed and coalesced, shifting and re-forming in unstable patterns. Li Ming recoiled from it, and behind him Kai was flinching as well, similar expressions of sheer disgust on their faces. The papers rustled against each other, humming like a nest of wasps.

Irene knew the taste of Alberich’s power by now, and the power was building to dangerous levels.

‘Open a window!’ she shouted.

This had happened in the werewolf caves, when three ingredients had been present: some form of writing, a Librarian and Alberich’s will at work. Alberich had again zeroed in on where she was – and this time Li Ming’s documents had given his corruption a focus. If this was a message, it was the sort that left people dead.

Vale fumbled with the window latch, but it was rusted in position. ‘It’s stuck,’ he reported calmly. But then he couldn’t feel the mounting power in the same way Irene did, and he didn’t have the same revulsion to it that the dragons had. ‘Singh, try yours—’

‘No time. Stand back, gentlemen. Windows, open!’

Both windows in the room flew open, dragging their latches out of the sockets. They were sash windows, the up-and-down vertical sort, and they rose to their full height, hitting their upper limits with enough of a bang to crack the panes. Glass came tinkling down on the windowsills and fell into the room, as the cold morning fog washed in.

The writing on the papers had dissolved into a constant wash of words in the Language: tangled, nonsensical vocabulary but no actual sentences, not even coherent phrases. The attaché case was shuddering where it lay on the table, jerking in place as though it had been electrified, and the rising buzz of power was clear enough now that even Vale and Singh could hear it.

Irene sheathed her hands in the battered folds of her skirt in an attempt to protect them, and flipped the lid of the attaché case shut. There was a jolt as she touched it, a painful vibration that echoed in her bones and made her grateful that the contact was only momentary. ‘Kai,’ she ordered, ‘help me with the table!’

Fortunately Kai caught her meaning instantly. Gritting his teeth, he grabbed one side of the table as she caught the other. They ran across to the window together, pitching the case and its papers into the empty street outside.

The explosion shattered the remaining glass in the windows and seared the air with a wave of scorching heat. Everyone in the room ducked, even Li Ming. Then there was silence, except for the clinking of broken glass falling to the ground.

Muffled shouting started outside, with the thumps of people throwing open their own windows and leaning out to see what was going on, to complain, or both.

Irene shook her hand, trying to work the vibration out of it. ‘I’m very sorry about your papers,’ she said inadequately to Li Ming. ‘I hope there was nothing too significant in there?’

Li Ming looked wistfully in the direction of his attaché case, then shrugged. ‘Nothing too important,’ he said, and Irene couldn’t work out if he was being ironic or not. He continued, ‘Only some possible drafts for a treaty, in the event that the Library might wish to petition my lord and his brothers for protection. I take it that was Alberich’s interference just now?’

‘It was, yes,’ Irene agreed, part of her responding automatically while the rest of her mind registered that they had hit dangerous political waters. Throwing themselves on the mercy of the dragon kings was certainly an option for the Library, in terms of sheer survival. But it would mean they’d lose their all-important neutrality. However nicely the dragon kings might put it, from that point onwards the Library would be their dependant. And however much autonomy might be promised in those treaties, at some point the Library would end up taking orders.

She glanced across and saw Kai frowning, clearly going through the same mental calculations. She couldn’t really blame the dragon kings for taking advantage of the situation. It was the practical, politically sensible thing to do. That was how rulers reacted when they saw an opportunity. But that also put limits on what she could expect from Li Ming, here and now, in terms of help against Alberich . . .