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The thought This is going to hurt stood out in the chaos. She emptied her lungs and then took in as much air as possible, trying to store as much oxygen as she could. She and Vale were several feet off the ground now, being dragged by the waters towards Kai’s water-spout. Hanging above the ground, she felt a new sense of awe. The immense waves Kai had raised were still dwarfed by the immensity of this prison, which was for much larger, much more powerful entities than them. Things that, even if they won free, could scarcely fit down a tiny staircase - she hoped.
The pseudo-tornado’s waters curved in a high arc over the iron bridge, to rest poised above the staircase where they had originally entered the prison. Then it fell down into the chasm, a twisting stream of liquid darkness that centred on the staircase, making the whole structure shudder and thrum as water hit iron. The sound was so loud that Irene raised her hands to cover her ears, trying to block it out. She could imagine the gush of water as it followed the spiral of the staircase. Jets would spout in all directions through the gaps in the panelling, but the main force of it would surge ever downwards. And as the dark shaft around the staircase narrowed and drew back to the dimensions of the Campanile below, there would be even less room for the water to escape. There would be nowhere for it to go, except down and out.
She hoped that anyone in the way had the sense to run.
Then Kai gestured towards her and Vale, and the waters pulled them towards him, like mere straws caught in an undercurrent. She took a last deep breath, her stomach knotting in pure terror, and then the rush of water swept all three of them giddily up through the air within the water-funnel. She was relieved, because if there was air, Kai was keeping them safe as he’d promised. They swung up and over the chasm in a single smooth arc, like an arrow’s flight, and then they plunged down into the stairwell.
At first the momentum was surprisingly smooth. She curled up instinctively, folding her arms over her head and tucking herself into a ball. The light was gone within moments, as the water swept the three of them round the first couple of curves in the stairs. It wasn’t as nauseating as it might have been. It felt more like the guided sliding of a helter-skelter than anything else, and Kai clearly had it under control. She clung to that thought like a talisman. She was going down an extremely high staircase underwater at high speed in the darkness. But she could trust Kai. He has it under control, she repeated to herself.
Then abruptly it was colder, and the water was no longer cradling her, but simply carrying her along like a fragment of straw. We’ve crossed the boundary into Venice, she thought grimly as she held on to the last of her air. Kai can’t function here, so we’ll just have to get through the rest of it.
The water now thumped her into the outer side of the staircase, banging her downwards like flotsam, spinning her round faster and faster. She hit the staircase again, the panelling, the stairs below her and the bottom of the stairs above her. Most of the blows were to her hips or shoulders, and she kept her head tucked in tightly, her breath burning in her lungs. There was no room for thought, just sheer panic as she crashed downwards in the darkness.
Abruptly it spat her out. The gush of water threw her out through the Campanile’s elegant portico and open gates and into the square beyond. Irene tumbled across the paving for several yards before she came to a halt. She lay there in the draining water, still curled up, the parts of her body that had banged into the staircase aching. Cold water washed past her cheek as she gasped for air. Her head was still spinning and she vomited, throwing up the little in her stomach onto the freshly washed stones.
‘Winters!’ Vale was shouting at her, his voice penetrating the general uproar. ‘Over here!’
She looked around, disorientated. It was full night. Lanterns flashed as they swung madly in the wind, and the square was a churning mess. Like her, others were sprawled in the water as the last of it flowed out across the Piazza. It drained into the shops and public buildings that bordered it, or ran over the paving and into the sea beyond. Uniformed guards around the Campanile’s entrance were also struggling to their feet. The size of the crowd suggested a near-mob - or would have, before one added an almighty flood in the near-darkness. It was definitely a mob now. The dim municipal lighting, combined with the masks most people were wearing, turned the scene into a nightmare.
Kai was lying on his face, groaning. Vale, looking battered but mobile, had one of Kai’s arms over his shoulders and was trying to haul him to his feet. It said something about Vale’s own condition that he hadn’t managed it yet. His arm was bleeding again. Irene pulled on her own mask as she staggered across to join them, her joints protesting with every step, and wedged her shoulder under Kai’s other arm. ‘Get - get to the Train,’ she coughed, tasting bile with every word.
‘You need not belabour the obvious, Winters,’ Vale snapped.
‘Get them!’ Lord Guantes shouted from somewhere in the darkness, his voice furious beyond any semblance of control. I don’t think I’m going to be invited to the opera again.
Irene hesitated, getting her bearings. ‘Over there, to the right,’ she gasped, pointing with her free hand to where the square led down towards the open water. Her body ached as if someone had taken a carpet beater to it. ‘Keep to the right, as if we were going to the Biblioteca Marciana.’
‘Of course,’ Vale grunted. He was taking more of Kai’s weight than she was. ‘Guantes will think we’re headed towards a library …’
Irene saved her breath and simply jerked a nod. The mob was all round them now, scrambling to get out of the Piazza. She and Vale weren’t the only ones supporting a semi-conscious friend. Even if they were some of the wettest.
The yells of the crowd behind them suggested Guantes’ minions were rapidly clubbing their way through - so Irene needed to hide their destination. She staggered to a stop with Kai and Vale between two lanterns, just before the square’s exit. Then she took a deep breath, bracing herself. ‘Lanterns, shatter and go out!’ she screamed at the top of her voice.
Her voice carried, even over the crowd, and the lanterns above blew out in a fusillade of glass, their flames snuffed in a single breath. Other smaller lanterns within the reach of her voice fell dramatically to pieces, crumbling where they hung in shop windows or on stalls, or as they were carried along by people in the crush.
The area was abruptly that much darker. And the mob that much more panicked and obstructive, but you couldn’t have everything.
‘Now we run,’ Irene gasped, and they did.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
They fled through the darkness, the three of them staggering together. Kai was barely conscious, his breath coming in rattling gasps in Irene’s ear, and Irene herself desperately wanted to collapse for a few minutes. But even if she could have ignored Lord Guantes and his minions in pursuit, there was a feeling in the air that she didn’t like, a febrile edge to the turmoil. They were on the precipice of a riot. Or something worse.
The paving stones seemed to drag at her feet, but she gritted her teeth and pushed on. She wasn’t going to be the one to get them caught.
‘Hurts …’ Kai mumbled.
‘We’re almost there,’ Irene gasped reassuringly, not bothering to check if this was true. ‘Just hold on a bit longer.’
‘No,’ Kai said, a little more clearly now. There was genuine pain in his voice. ‘My feet …’
Both Irene and Vale stopped, Vale jostling her to look down. The paving was rising around Kai’s shoes, seemingly grasping at his feet as it bubbled in an unwholesome way in the near-darkness. Irene looked nervously at her own feet, but it didn’t seem to be affecting her or Vale.
Vale took a deep breath. ‘Let go of him, Winters,’ he instructed. ‘And be ready to clear our way.’ With a grunt of effort, he bent over and swung Kai up onto his shoulder in a fireman’s lift. More blood stained the bandage on his arm.
Right. That might work. If Kai’s feet weren’t actually touching the ground … They were nearly at the Train. Perhaps five minutes. If they could just make it.
She ploughed her way through the crowd, using her shoulders and elbows to force a passage for herself and the men. Behind her, the shouting seemed louder and more directed, and she tried not to think what would happen when Guantes realized they weren’t actually heading for the library at all. They had to make that train - and Lord Guantes was entirely capable of working that out. And where is Lady Guantes? Irene hoped not knowing wouldn’t prove fatal.
