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‘Over here,’ Penemue said, beckoning Irene to sit alongside her and Kallimachos. ‘Let’s hope they get through this fast. And while I’ve got you here, what really happened with you and Alberich?’
‘It was really more of a controlled escape than actually stopping him,’ Irene said, looking around.
At the epicentre of the hall, a group of clearly senior Librarians sat behind a long oak table, which looked painfully out of place against all the glass and metal. Irene saw her own mentor, Coppelia, among them, tapping the clockwork fingers of her left hand against the table as she waited for the Librarians to settle themselves. Of the others, she only recognized one: another senior Librarian, Kostchei. She’d never had any personal dealings with him, but she’d been introduced once at a seminar, and he had a reputation – or possibly a notoriety – for cold competence. He was sitting at the centre of the table, with a pen and paper in front of him. His head was bald and his eyebrows barely there, but his beard was a thick braided mass which reached down to brush the table. And his face had ingrained lines of exasperation and temper around the mouth. The other Librarians were strangers to her, but were all visibly old – apart from one exception, a middle-aged woman at one end of the table in a large wheelchair. The wheelchair would explain her early retirement to the Library, rather than being out in the field.
‘If I can have your attention.’ The room fell silent as Kostchei spoke. He leaned forward, folding his hands in front of him. Irene couldn’t help noticing that his knuckles were swollen with arthritis. ‘There will be a brief presentation on the current crisis, during which you will all keep silent. You may then ask questions.’
He waited for a moment, but nobody was stupid enough to speak, and he finally nodded.
‘Yesterday morning, by world-local time, we received a message from the traitor Alberich. He demanded that the Library surrender to him, accept him as its leader and allow him to enter it. If we refused, he threatened to destroy us. Naturally, we refused.’ o;Nothing too bad, I hope,’ Irene answered. She didn’t recognize the woman, or the man who stood beside her. ‘I don’t think we’ve met?’
‘I’m Penemue,’ the woman introduced herself. She was comfortably middle-aged at first glance, with greying straw-coloured hair worn loose and an embroidered blue shirt and slacks worn even looser. She nodded to the man next to her, who was fiddling with his glasses while looking around the room. ‘This is my friend Kallimachos. I hear that you fought off an attack on your world from Alberich some time back?’
‘That’s drastically overstated,’ Irene said. ‘There was a book that Alberich was after, but it was more a case of me managing to avoid him than actually fighting off an attack. And it was only a few months ago. Might I ask who told you about it?’
Penemue shrugged. ‘Word gets around. I’ve been wanting to get in contact with you for a while now. Could we have coffee after our mysterious meeting?’
This all sounded perfectly innocent and reasonable, except for the metaphorical elephant in the room. Irene knew that she’d only managed to block Alberich from Vale’s world because Kai had helped, using his natural abilities as a dragon. But hardly anyone in the Library knew that Kai was a dragon – or, at least, was supposed to know that he was a dragon. Native caution made Irene pick her words carefully. ‘Of course. Though I can’t stay long, I’m expected back shortly and I wouldn’t want to panic my assistant.’
Penemue nodded. ‘Don’t worry, I just want to set up some channels of communication. I’ve been doing some organizing among the people who work in the field, like us, and I wanted to get you in on it. I’ve heard so much about you, as one of the best operatives in the field.’ She offered Irene her hand to shake. ‘I’m sure that we’ll be able to work together.’
This was sounding suspiciously like a definite commitment, and Irene didn’t like to commit herself until she knew what was going on. ‘We’re both Librarians,’ she said, forcing a smile and shaking Penemue’s hand. She wished she had some idea who the other woman actually was, and what her record was like. It was at moments like this that she regretted not keeping up on Library gossip.
‘They’re letting us in!’ someone called from over by the large door. The conversation broke off as everyone hurried to go through.
The meeting room was what university lecture amphitheatres dream of growing up to become. Deep banks of seats ran from floor to ceiling, enough to handle hundreds of people rather than the several dozen who’d been waiting to enter. The desks were of heavy iron, inlaid with green enamel vines and leaves, and the glass ceiling high above was fitted with spotlights that focused on the table at the centre. People’s feet rang loudly on the metal floor as they made their way down the ramps to jostle for seats in the front row.
At the far end of the front row sat Bradamant. She hadn’t been with the group that had just entered, but had already been in the room. It had been months since she and Irene had last met, but she still wore her hair in a sleek razor-cut, and her elegantly draped gown was a deep jade-green silk. She had a computer laptop open and was tapping quick notes, glancing up from time to time at the new arrivals. Her gaze met Irene’s for a moment and then she carefully looked away, not quite quickly enough for insult, but precisely enough that it was clear she wasn’t interested in interaction. Irene wondered why Bradamant hadn’t left with the others in the previous briefing.
‘Over here,’ Penemue said, beckoning Irene to sit alongside her and Kallimachos. ‘Let’s hope they get through this fast. And while I’ve got you here, what really happened with you and Alberich?’
‘It was really more of a controlled escape than actually stopping him,’ Irene said, looking around.
At the epicentre of the hall, a group of clearly senior Librarians sat behind a long oak table, which looked painfully out of place against all the glass and metal. Irene saw her own mentor, Coppelia, among them, tapping the clockwork fingers of her left hand against the table as she waited for the Librarians to settle themselves. Of the others, she only recognized one: another senior Librarian, Kostchei. She’d never had any personal dealings with him, but she’d been introduced once at a seminar, and he had a reputation – or possibly a notoriety – for cold competence. He was sitting at the centre of the table, with a pen and paper in front of him. His head was bald and his eyebrows barely there, but his beard was a thick braided mass which reached down to brush the table. And his face had ingrained lines of exasperation and temper around the mouth. The other Librarians were strangers to her, but were all visibly old – apart from one exception, a middle-aged woman at one end of the table in a large wheelchair. The wheelchair would explain her early retirement to the Library, rather than being out in the field.
‘If I can have your attention.’ The room fell silent as Kostchei spoke. He leaned forward, folding his hands in front of him. Irene couldn’t help noticing that his knuckles were swollen with arthritis. ‘There will be a brief presentation on the current crisis, during which you will all keep silent. You may then ask questions.’
He waited for a moment, but nobody was stupid enough to speak, and he finally nodded.
‘Yesterday morning, by world-local time, we received a message from the traitor Alberich. He demanded that the Library surrender to him, accept him as its leader and allow him to enter it. If we refused, he threatened to destroy us. Naturally, we refused.’ He paused.
‘Since then, we’ve received reports that a number of permanent gates to the Library have been destroyed. We’ve also received reports of assaults on Librarians who were stationed in those worlds, or in others. There have been several deaths. Confirmed deaths, that is. We have not yet checked on all Librarians who haven’t been in contact with the Library for a while.’
One Librarian started to raise her hand to ask a question. Kostchei stared at her silently until she lowered it again.
In the silence, the whole situation rearranged itself in Irene’s mind. This wasn’t just something directed at her and Kai: it was a threat to the whole Library. She felt as Kai had done when confronted with Vale’s drugs – faced with something that couldn’t be happening, that was a challenge to the very way she viewed the universe. She hadn’t thought it was possible that the Library could be threatened. She’d always thought she might not survive, that Librarians might die, but the Library would surely continue . . .
But Coppelia was somehow down there, with other senior Librarians, confirming that all of this was true.
Irene wasn’t sure now if the spiders were linked to Alberich. Would it be better or worse if they weren’t? If they were his doing, that meant he had some way of reaching inside Vale’s world, perhaps via an agent. And if they weren’t his doing, then yet another person was out to kill her. Or Kai. Or both of them together.
She remembered a conversation with Kai’s uncle Ao Shun, when Kai had been kidnapped. Ao Shun had said in tones of iron, ‘This is not to be tolerated. This will not be tolerated.’
Anger crystallized in Irene’s stomach. Indeed. She refused to tolerate this.
Kostchei waited another five seconds before continuing. ‘We haven’t yet established whether the gate-malfunctions are triggered by attempts to use the gates, or whether the gates are already destroyed and we only find out when we attempt to use them. Library Security has nothing to report, and we don’t believe it to be an internal matter.’ In other words, there weren’t any traitors inside the Library’s walls. So the problem lay outside. ‘We have made enquiries from various sources, and the dragons don’t appear to be involved in this. We’re not sure about the Fae. Under no circumstances will we accept Alberich’s terms. You may now ask questions.’
Hands shot up. The pink-haired woman received the first nod from Kostchei and fired off her question. ‘How many gates have been hit by this so far? And are they to law-slanted worlds or chaos ones?’
