The Invisible Library (35 page)

‘Ah.’ Vale stepped away from the side of the zeppelin, and offered her his hand. ‘Then I believe we can work together, Miss Winters.’

Irene nearly said
Huh?
– which would have been inappropriate in so many ways. She just stood there limply. ‘But, you were saying . . .’

‘Tch,’ Vale said. ‘Really, madam. I can accept that you are an effective agent, much like your colleague Bradamant. I wanted to be sure that there was more to you than that. If
the Library employs persons like yourself, then I suppose there must be something to be said for it after all.’

‘Excuse
me
,’ Kai began.

‘You were doing your duty in following orders, and no man could ask for more,’ Vale said. ‘But Miss Winters is your commanding officer. The truth needed to come from
her.’

Having won the point, Irene felt a curious mix of emotions – including rage. How dare he consider her ethics from such a lofty height? How dare he
judge
her? She took a deep breath,
forcing down the anger with whatever justifications she could bring to mind. He had to make his own decisions. He needed to understand her to do so.

Still, it stung.

She reached out and clasped his hand briefly. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I appreciate that.’

Kai stepped up and laid his hand across their joined hands. ‘Together we shall put Alberich down and rescue Bradamant. Though personally, as she’d so disloyally
betrayed—’ He caught Irene’s glare. ‘Still, I am under your orders,’ he said heroically.

Irene disengaged her hand as tactfully as was possible. Heroic fiction had plenty of manly handclasps in it, and she’d read enough of them. But it had never gone into how you retrieved
your hand afterwards, and whether there were any relevant squeezes or other manoeuvres. ‘I’ve been trying to think how to deal with Alberich,’ she said, though didn’t add
in my copious spare time
as she was tempted to, ‘and I’d be interested to know if you have anything to suggest.’

‘Shoot the bounder,’ Vale suggested. ‘That works on vampires or werewolves, and even on Fae under some circumstances.’

Kai flexed his long-fingered hands. He seemed, for once, to be hesitating.

‘Kai?’ Irene prompted.

‘There are certain ways that we – that is, um, my family – ’ which was probably the closest he was going to come to saying the d-word for the moment – ‘can
reinforce an area against chaos. Alberich uses chaos, so he must be contaminated by it, so it should work against him too.’

‘How large an area?’ Vale said. ‘And can you make it permanent?’ Clearly he had grand visions of driving the Fae out of his entire world, or at least the British Empire
part of it.

Kai shook his head. ‘If we could, then we wouldn’t have this ongoing problem. We could just push them out and keep them out. The best I can do is mark out an area and ward it. And it
has to be an area that I can travel around in a set period of time.’ He brightened up. ‘Greater powers like my father or my uncles could guard an entire ocean within a single turning of
the sun!’

Irene bit the inside of her cheek hard before she could make any comments about
putting a girdle round the world in forty minutes
. It probably wasn’t an appropriate moment for
Shakespeare, and she didn’t think Kai would find the analogy funny. ‘And yourself?’ she asked.

Kai’s shoulders slumped, showing a hint of sulking adolescent. ‘I’m more bound by physical constraints,’ he mumbled. ‘And I can’t actually force one of those
creatures out if it’s already inside my wards. I can only set up a boundary so that it can’t get in or out.’

‘Yes, but how large an area?’ Vale pressed. ‘The whole of London?’

‘Maybe,’ Kai said. ‘If you gave me all night. And I’d have to, ah, it would attract attention.’

‘From whom?’ Irene asked. ‘The Fae?’

‘My relatives,’ Kai said. He looked as if he’d like to shrink into a corner at the thought. He seemed to be displaying the heroic nobility of a teenager doing the right thing,
combined with the hangdog despair of anticipating the removal of privileges for the next
decade
. She wondered how old – or how young – he was in terms of dragon ageing. He was so
mature in some ways, and so young in others.

Irene frowned. ‘Well, I can ward an area against chaos by attuning it to the Library. That might force Alberich out of an area if he’s already in it – but I can only cover a
relatively small area that way. And there are issues of power . . .’ Yes, that was one way of putting it. Warding Vale’s rooms the previous night had been fairly simple. Trying to block
a larger area of reality, as it were, would take much more of her energy. She would also need a very thorough description of the area that she was trying to ward. But there had to be some way that
she could use this . . .

The zeppelin rocked, throwing Irene off her feet. Something whirred and chittered like locusts in the air outside. Kai grabbed her round the waist, catching hold of a hanging strap with his free
hand. Vale managed to balance himself against the far wall. ‘What’s going on?’ he shouted in Mrs Jenkins’s direction.

‘We’re under attack,’ Mrs Jenkins snapped back. She didn’t look away from the controls. Her right hand was locked into the middle of a brass and pewter orrery, and her
left hand was pulling at a range of levers. She tugged at something that looked like an organ stop, and frowned when it wouldn’t respond. ‘Trouble to starboard!’

Irene and the others crowded to the window.

‘I can’t see anything,’ Irene said. The only things in sight were rooftops and smog.

‘There!’ Vale declared, pointing a finger. ‘See that vapour trail?’

‘Something small,’ Kai said, leaning over Irene’s shoulder. ‘But I can’t sense any Fae interference.’

‘You forget the Iron Brotherhood,’ Vale interrupted. ‘They have their agents after us too.’

‘Hang on!’ Mrs Jenkins called from the cockpit. The zeppelin lurched again, dragging sideways in a painful, ungainly movement that shook the cabin like a dice cup. Irene and the two
men clung to handholds. Lengths of rope that hadn’t been strapped to the walls swung out and flailed in the air, and an unsecured teacup bounced from wall to wall, leaving a trail of cold tea
droplets.

‘There he is!’ Vale exclaimed. A man had flown into view. He was strapped into some sort of mobile helicopter unit that whirred its tarnished blades dangerously close to his head,
and was wearing an oil-smeared leather helmet and overalls. In one hand he held a heavy pistol, with a cable running from it to something strapped to his lower back. He bobbed in the air, steadying
the pistol with his free hand as he tried to line up a shot.

‘Is there some way we can shoot back?’ Kai asked, reverting to smooth competence.

‘Over here.’ Vale leapt into the cockpit and wrenched at a panel above Mrs Jenkins’s head. She ignored him, concentrating on steering the zeppelin. ‘The weapons are kept
here on museum vehicles – ah, here they are.’

He pulled out a brace of pistols, tossing one to Kai and another to Irene, who wasn’t too confident about popping off shots at a flying target. ‘Isn’t there anything larger on
board?’ she asked. ‘A flare pistol or something?’

Vale spared his attention from smashing a window to give her a sharp look. ‘Really, Miss Winters! A flare pistol on a zeppelin? I thought you were more sensible than that.’

‘It’s not something I’ve ever studied,’ Irene muttered, and decided to keep any other bright ideas to herself for the moment. Kai and Vale were both shooting out of the
window and could certainly do so without her assistance. She staggered forward to the cockpit. ‘How much further to the library, Mrs Jenkins?’

‘Almost at it,’ Mrs Jenkins said bluntly, ‘but it’s not going to be a rat’s ass of use, because we can’t land with that maniac out there firing at us. I
don’t know what sort of stories you’ve heard about what zeppelins can and can’t do, miss, but I need to hover while someone throws us a line and makes us secure. And that’s
what we call, in aviator parlance, a ‘sitting target’. So I hope your friends are good shots, or I’m going to be making altitude and heading north until we lose him. Can’t
risk crashing with the streets this busy.’

Vale shouldered over to grab Irene’s arm. Apparently their shots had all gone wide. ‘Miss Winters, can your abilities be of use here?’

Irene shook her head. ‘I can’t affect him or his gear. They can’t hear me.’

Vale stared at her. ‘
Hear
you?’

‘The Language only works on the universe if the universe can hear it,’ Irene snapped. She was sure that she’d explained this to him earlier. Perhaps she hadn’t. ‘I
can affect this zeppelin, but I don’t see what good that would be—’

Vale suddenly snapped his fingers. ‘I do! Mrs Jenkins, bring us in to above the British Library, right now, if you please. And be ready for an abrupt descent.’

‘What are we trying?’ Kai asked, looking round from the window.

‘I wouldn’t mind knowing that myself,’ Mrs Jenkins said. The zeppelin wheeled to the left, throwing them all off balance again. ‘We’re three hundred yards off,
coming in at forty-five miles an hour, and the landing roof’s only fifty yards long.’

‘On my word, Miss Winters,’ Vale instructed, ‘tell all the structural components of the zeppelin to increase their weight by fifty per cent. Mrs Jenkins, you are to deploy
landing flaps.’ He checked his watch.

Another burst of chittering sounded outside. ‘Damn,’ Mrs Jenkins commented. ‘I hate those things.’

‘Which things?’ Irene asked, frantically trying to remember vocabulary for zeppelin parts.

‘Seed ammunition,’ Mrs Jenkins said, adjusting the organ-stop controls. ‘They chew right through an airbag. Stand by for rapid braking.’

‘Now!’ Vale declared.

‘
All zeppelin structure parts, increase your weight by a half again!
’ Irene shouted, projecting her voice to ensure it would carry through both cabin and cockpit. She
didn’t want half the struts deciding to stay their original weight, making the whole thing break up in mid-air. Imagination could supply too many images, and none of them good.

Mrs Jenkins slammed down half a dozen of the organ stops simultaneously, using her left hand and forearm, and threw herself back in her seat.

The zeppelin shuddered, leather straining and metal creaking, and the whirling motors outside howled in near-human agony. Kai had dropped his gun and was hanging on to the straps with one hand
and Irene with the other, and Irene couldn’t complain. Vale had tucked his elbow through a strap and was watching the view through the shattered window with keen curiosity.

They were sinking in the air, dragged down as if someone was hauling the craft’s mooring rope from below, but they were still moving forward. The braking flaps were working, but, Irene
thought, maybe not fast enough.

‘Should I make it heavier?’ she shouted at Vale, her voice barely carrying above the howling of the air and the tortured noise of the metal struts.

Vale shook his head in clear negation.

It was at times like this that Irene really wished she believed in prayer. Sudden death was easy to cope with, seeing as you had no time to ponder. But their impending crash and burn over the
British Museum was leaving too much time for dread, with an inevitable fiery doom at the end. Every second seemed to stretch out into an eternal moment of panic.

Then the zeppelin settled on solid ground with a thump that threw Irene entirely onto Kai, knocked Mrs Jenkins back in her seat, and made Vale drop his watch. Irene could vaguely hear screams
and shouts outside. Hopefully anyone who was standing on the roof had had the sense to run away.

With a muffled curse, Mrs Jenkins started throwing switches. The hum of the motors began to slow, as they shut down one by one. Suddenly the zeppelin was absurdly quiet after all the earlier
noise, with only the cabin’s creaks and groans as an eerie backdrop.

‘Thank you,’ Vale said. ‘Excellent piloting. I will be mentioning your conduct to your superior.’

Mrs Jenkins looked at him for a long moment, then picked up a rag and wiped her goggles with it. ‘You’ll find the exit to your right,’ she said flatly.

Kai released Irene, and went to open the zeppelin door.

Irene saw it coming, but it was too fast for the Language to stop it. The man in his mini-copter was hovering there, levelling his gun to shoot directly through the open door at the people in
the cabin. At Kai standing there with his back half turned.

She didn’t have time to speak, but she did have time to move. She threw herself at Kai, and the two of them went sprawling on the floor together, Kai’s mouth open in shock, as a
whirring mass of silver flecks sliced through the air where he had been standing. The metal pieces sliced into the leather and wooden parts of the structure, chewing long gashes into them, and
ricocheted off the metal struts, leaving long silver scars against the dark oiled surfaces. A couple of them sliced along Irene’s left arm, cutting through the cloth of her sleeve and drawing
blood.

Vale went down on one knee, snatched up Kai’s pistol from where it had fallen, and fired.

There was a long, dwindling scream, and a distant crash.

Irene looked down at Kai’s face for a moment. He was looking up at her with that lost, puppy-like look again, as if she had somehow perfectly filled a hole in his personal universe. It was
no doubt immensely flattering, but she didn’t have time for that. She didn’t have time to tell him that she trusted him, or that he could trust her. She didn’t have time for the
immense feeling of gratitude that he was safe – or for anything except finding the book, stopping Alberich, and saving Bradamant. She had to finish the job, or all their efforts and the
danger she’d put people in would be wasted.

And she couldn’t waste time indulging herself with personal feelings. Even if she wanted to.

‘All right?’ she said briskly, pulling herself to her knees. ‘Good. Come on.’

Vale offered his hand, and pulled her to her feet. ‘Good reflexes, Miss Winters.’

‘Good shooting, Mr Vale,’ she replied. ‘Thank you. Now let’s find that book.’