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‘Well, the Library couldn’t drop a rain of fire on your head through that sort of link,’ Coppelia said. ‘So Alberich probably can’t. It interests me that he can make the connection at all.’
‘It surprises me that he’d bother, given our previous British Library confrontation,’ Irene said. She wasn’t entirely reassured by the use of probably. ‘Other Librarians must have managed to dodge him before. I can’t be the first one.’
Coppelia reached across the table and tapped Irene’s forehead with her finger – one of the flesh ones, thankfully. ‘Use your brain, child. You read that book he was hunting for. He knows you’ll have read it – and it was only a few months ago, so he won’t have forgotten.’
Irene frowned. ‘But it only told me that his sister had a child who was raised in the Library. It didn’t . . . Oh.’ It came to her what Coppelia was saying. ‘But maybe he doesn’t know that. Or at least he doesn’t know how much I know, or what the book said.’
‘I’m tempted to order you to stay here,’ Coppelia mused out loud. ‘It might be safest for you.’
Irene blinked. ‘You are joking, aren’t you?’
‘I’m quite serious. As Kostchei said, we don’t want to waste you.’ She sighed. ‘That man has never liked chairing meetings. You can watch his level of patience go down like a thermometer being hit by a blizzard.’
‘Well, I’m being serious, too. I’m not sitting in here when there’s work to be done.’ She leaned forward, trying to impress Coppelia with her determination and focus, then stiffened as she heard the chair creak under her. It spoiled the effect. ‘And why are we having meetings, anyhow? Why aren’t you just broadcasting the news to all the Librarians as fast as possible?’
‘It takes energy.’ Coppelia shrugged. ‘The Library’s resources are not infinite. We’re informing people who come in first, and we’ll be broadcasting warnings to anyone who hasn’t shown up or been in contact within twenty-four hours. And as for work to be done, I have a job for you. It’s in a different world from your Residency post – but since Alberich won’t know to look for you there, you should be as safe as if you were here. Safe from Alberich, at least,’ she corrected herself.
‘What sort of job?’ The very concept of a simple book-retrieval brought a welcome normality into the discussion, and Irene relaxed.
‘The usual,’ Coppelia said. ‘But under the current circumstances, we need the book as fast as possible. You won’t have your usual time for preparations. We do know where you can find a copy of it, but it may be a little difficult to extract.’
Which meant that it was probably going to be hideously difficult and dangerous. Still, at least Irene would be doing something to help. o;Venomous,’ Coppelia corrected her absently. ‘A spider is venomous: it creates the poison and delivers it by biting. Minus a point for incorrect terminology.’
‘Is this really the time to—’ Irene started angrily.
‘Yes,’ Coppelia snapped. ‘Yes, it is and it always will be. You use the Language, child. You have to be absolutely precise or you will get hurt. I have not invested all this time and effort into you to lose you now.’
Irene took a deep breath. ‘How nice that I matter to you.’
‘Don’t be silly, Irene. I haven’t time for you to be juvenile. Can you behave like an adult, or should I have you wait outside while we take the next briefing?’
This was the second time inside half an hour that she’d been scolded as if she was still a teenager. It hit nerves already frayed from assassination attempts and threats from Alberich. ‘People are trying to kill me,’ she said, controlling herself with an effort. ‘The Library’s been threatened by Alberich. Gates are being destroyed. Alberich sent me a personal message. I haven’t time for you to treat me like a child. Is this really the moment for power games?’
Coppelia tapped a wooden finger on the table. ‘Just because you’ve stayed out of Library power games in the past doesn’t mean that you’ll always be able to do so. Do you have any relevant questions?’
‘Yes. What should I do if Alberich tries to contact me again?’
Coppelia hesitated. ‘I would like to tell you not to bother answering him. But we desperately need further information. If you think you can get anything out of him, try it.’
‘Answer him?’ Irene hadn’t thought it was possible to respond to that sort of message. It was yet one more thing that junior Librarians didn’t ‘need to know’. The thought rankled, another brick on top of a growing construction of annoyance. Just think, if she’d been able to respond before, after receiving other emergency messages . . . ‘How?’
Coppelia pursed her lips as if she was considering reproving Irene for her tone, but her answer was mild. ‘You need to overwrite the written material with your own message, using the Language. The person who sent the first message should still be focused on the link to your general area and will perceive it. The link doesn’t last long, so you’ll only have a chance to exchange a few lines.’
‘How safe is this?’ Irene asked.
‘Nothing’s totally safe. What sort of guarantee are you looking for?’
Irene spread her hands. ‘Well, are we talking about me being led into sedition by his hypnotic messages unsafe, or Alberich using this theoretical link to drop a rain of fire on my head unsafe?’
‘Well, the Library couldn’t drop a rain of fire on your head through that sort of link,’ Coppelia said. ‘So Alberich probably can’t. It interests me that he can make the connection at all.’
‘It surprises me that he’d bother, given our previous British Library confrontation,’ Irene said. She wasn’t entirely reassured by the use of probably. ‘Other Librarians must have managed to dodge him before. I can’t be the first one.’
Coppelia reached across the table and tapped Irene’s forehead with her finger – one of the flesh ones, thankfully. ‘Use your brain, child. You read that book he was hunting for. He knows you’ll have read it – and it was only a few months ago, so he won’t have forgotten.’
Irene frowned. ‘But it only told me that his sister had a child who was raised in the Library. It didn’t . . . Oh.’ It came to her what Coppelia was saying. ‘But maybe he doesn’t know that. Or at least he doesn’t know how much I know, or what the book said.’
‘I’m tempted to order you to stay here,’ Coppelia mused out loud. ‘It might be safest for you.’
