Chapter Text
The Library was dimly lit. Irene had noticed before that some of the lights had been shut off or didn’t seem to be giving off quite as much light as they should, but she had dismissed it as a figment of her imagination. Besides, she’d had bigger problems. But it seemed even darker now than it had been on the way to G-692, and she couldn’t so easily dismiss it anymore.
Something wasn’t quite right.
‘Is it normal for it to be this dark?’ Thomas asked, bursting Irene’s happy bubble that this was all in her head.
‘No,’ Irene said. She had been in and out of the Library for practically all her life, and this had never happened before. The lights were always on. They didn’t get turned off, because you never knew where a hurried Librarian would come in and you couldn’t leave them trying to find their way back in the dark, could you?
But now shadows lurked in corners and the absence of light plunged entire corridors in ominous gloom. Irene tried to convince herself that this was not some omen of ill-fortune, completely unconnected to the matter of a treacherous apprentice, but she couldn’t find enough arguments to support that hypothesis. But she didn’t really believe in coincidence either. Two major problems occurring simultaneously seemed a bit of a stretch.
Thomas looked at her face, correctly surmised that Irene didn’t have any answers either, and wisely didn’t ask any more questions.
It saved Irene the need to answer that she didn’t have the faintest idea either. Only a sudden sense of impending doom that everything she knew and trusted in was falling apart at the seams. The Library never had traitors – save one – but now it had. No Librarian was ever attacked inside the Library, but now one had been. And the Library’s lighting never failed. Until today. It was too much change – and not for the better either – in too little time.
‘We’ll need to see Coppelia,’ Irene said. Junior Librarians didn’t usually get access to the kinds of records they were after, but, given the severity of the situation, an exception might be made.
‘Not Kostchei?’ Thomas asked, but he grinned.
It took some effort not to ask him what he made of Bradamant’s mentor. Safe to assume he wasn’t a big fan. On the other hand, he’d been working with Bradamant for the better part of a year and he hadn’t run screaming for the hills yet. Maybe he liked that sort of character.
‘Coppelia authorised the mission,’ she said instead. ‘Requests related to that mission go through her first. Good to know for your Library career.’
Whatever that may turn out to be. Thomas’s role wasn’t against any rules that Irene knew of, but she’d never heard of any Librarian having a permanent paid assistant in an alternate before. Technically, Thomas had no official standing. He wasn’t a Librarian, he wasn’t an apprentice. And he was a vampire to boot. They hadn’t had one of those in the Library before. Ever.
If Thomas sensed the thousand-odd questions Irene had, he didn’t let on. ‘I’ll keep it in mind.’
The closer they came to the offices of the senior Librarians, the more people they encountered. Irene knew some of their faces, but most were young recruits, apprentices or newly initiated. No one walked around alone. Many had their heads bent together, whispering.
It was one more oddity. Ordinarily people had no problems talking at normal volume. Unlike many libraries in the alternates, no one would shout “shush!” in your ear if you chatted with your fellow Librarians.
So what has changed?
And is it related to our new mission?
Irene knew better than to expect that Coppelia would trip over herself in her haste to provide Irene with useful answers, but they might at least learn something.
Thomas leaned in close to Irene’s ear and did some whispering too: ‘Some of them say that Traverses are malfunctioning.’
‘Beg pardon?’
‘Traverses. Malfunctioning.’
So she had heard that right. Irene shivered. It must be one of those myths young Librarians told to scare each other. Irene had heard and told a few of her own in her apprentice days, some far more far-fetched than this. Everyone knew that Traverses didn’t malfunction.
Just like the lights never failed.
She shivered again.
Before her mind could run away with her – was it Alberich, was the Library falling apart, were they getting invaded, what is happening, should we run? – she took a firm grip of it and said: ‘That’s not our mission. We have a job to do. Let’s do it.’
Thomas looked at her. Was it the lack of light or were his eyes more silvery than the grey she was used to? Up close it was a bit hard not to notice how very, very attractive he was. Maybe that’s why his eyes stood out so much.
Thomas grimaced, closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. When he opened them again, they were simple grey again.
Right, vampire. Funny how she kept forgetting that he wasn’t actually human. Probably had something to do with the fact that he looked very human. Very handsome, but otherwise normal. Which was what made him so dangerous. Or potentially dangerous. If Irene’s information was correct, his kind could kill with a kiss.
But Harry thought that Thomas was all right, and Irene trusted him. More to the point, Mouse liked him, and Irene definitely trusted him to tell the good guys from the bad guys. As far as she was concerned, Mouse had earned himself a lifetime’s worth of ear scratches, belly rubs, and treats, as well as her unwavering faith in his character assessment abilities.
Besides, Thomas hadn’t killed Bradamant yet, and everyone knew she likely had given him plenty of motivation for wanting to throttle her. Therefore his self-control must be phenomenal and Irene had no need to fear for her safety.
That settled, she returned to the matter in hand. ‘It’s likely nothing,’ she said, but didn’t really believe her own words.
‘And if they’re right?’ he demanded. ‘What if we want to go back to G-692 and we can’t?’
Irene meant to say that there was nothing to these whispers, but found that she couldn’t. On any other day, she’d have laughed about the very idea. But not today. When everything was already so out of sorts.
‘Then we find a Traverse that still functions and wait for Kai to find us.’ He’d told her before he could find her wherever she went. ‘He doesn’t need the Library to cross worlds.’
Thomas considered that answer, reached the conclusion that he wouldn’t get anything better than this, and nodded.
Coppelia’s door was closed, but when Irene knocked, her mentor called that she could enter. Irene opened the door and beckoned Thomas to follow her in.
‘Irene.’ You’d have to know Coppelia well to detect the surprise in her voice. Irene knew her very well. ‘And Bradamant’s assistant. To what do I owe the pleasure?’ You’d better tell me what you are doing back here after I’ve sent you out only hours ago is what Irene correctly translated from that sentence.
She hurried to oblige. ‘The apprentice Emily fled back into the Library after the attack,’ she reported briskly. ‘We have reason to believe she will try to return to her home world, B-457, and that she might have an associate there. We would like to see the records for the Traverse to that alternate.’
Coppelia studied first Irene, then Thomas. ‘Eight out of ten for concise reporting. You have however failed to mention how you reached the conclusion that she returned to B-457.’
‘She has nowhere else to go,’ Thomas said, matching Irene’s briskness every inch of the way. ‘And her behaviour on our last mission to B-457 suggests that she has an associate in that alternate. She took some extreme measures to avoid Bradamant and myself following her.’
‘Such as?’ Coppelia asked sharply.
‘Setting the authorities on us to have us arrested when we attempted to follow her on one of her nightly exploits.’
Judging by Coppelia’s face, this was the first she heard about that development, and she likely had some thoughts about Bradamant’s lack of action concerning her apprentice’s behaviour. Irene had a few of her own, but they wouldn’t get them anywhere now. ‘We could plunge into B-457 blind, but I’d rather have confirmation that she is not still lurking somewhere in the Library with some other scheme.’ Especially now that she had plenty of shadowy corners available to hide in.
‘Sound reasoning,’ Coppelia nodded. ‘And something that occurred to us senior Librarians as well. I have already requested and received the crossings into and out of B-457 for the past four weeks.’ She smiled meaningfully at Irene. ‘You are not the only one who can conduct an investigation.’ She retrieved two pieces of paper from her desk and slid them over to Irene and Thomas’s side. ‘Tell me what you make of that.’
Irene studied the records. Nothing much stood out at first. The alternate’s Librarian-in-Residence made a few trips in and out – not unusual. Two weeks ago Bradamant had opened the Traverse, going in. Yesterday she had opened the Traverse, going out.
‘Unknown?’ Thomas asked, finger tapping on the entry of this morning. Someone had gone into B-457, but the Library hadn’t known who?
Irene frowned. Maybe there was something in those whisperings that the Traverses didn’t work properly after all if this one had failed to record who had used it.
Coppelia’s face gave nothing away, but her voice did: ‘Unknown,’ she confirmed, equal parts disapproval and something Irene suspected was very close to worry.
‘What does that mean?’ Irene asked.
Coppelia’s face became very disapproving. ‘I should think that I shouldn’t have to explain the meaning of such a common word to you.’
Deflection instead of answering. That couldn’t be a good sign. ‘Why did the Traverse register “unknown”?’ Irene asked instead, although she was sure Coppelia knew very well she meant that the first time. Delay was never good either.
She had a very bad feeling about this whole thing.
‘Much better,’ Coppelia said. ‘The answer is that we do not know. Generally, all Librarians are recognised by their brand. It could be that the problem is with the Traverse.’ Irene’s mind drifted back to the rumours now flying around the Library. ‘Or, although this possibility is extremely unlikely, someone who is not a Librarian somehow found a way to open the Traverse.’
Emily, maybe, breaking out. The direction and timing of this particular use of the Traverse certainly lined up. The question remained how she had done it. The Traverses had been made so that only Librarians could use them. Magic from the alternates had no effect on them whatsoever.
Or so Irene had always been told.
She and Thomas exchanged a glance. Thomas didn’t seem particularly worried, but he didn’t seem about to a happy dance either.
Irene could practically smell the complications and all the trouble that came with them.
She hesitated briefly, because the chances of getting a useful answer were almost nihil, but going in without all the available information would be even worse, so she asked anyway: ‘Could the trouble at the Traverse have something to with the other malfunctioning Traverses?’
As predicted, that got shut down immediately: ‘That is none of your business, Irene,’ Coppelia said sharply.
Ordinarily Irene would have been content with that answer, but not today: ‘It seems it has some bearing on my current mission. I don’t much like the idea of getting stranded in an alternate with no way back.’
‘You won’t be,’ Coppelia said dismissively, but Irene wasn’t sure she bought it. ‘Your task is to focus on retrieving the book and the apprentice. Do whatever else you think necessary, but get it done as quickly as possible.’
Irene weighed the chances of getting better answers if she pressed on now, but decided against it. ‘Can I call in assistance where I think it’s needed?’
Coppelia studied her carefully. ‘Only if they already know about the Library. You are not authorised to initiate anyone else.’
Well, that shouldn’t be a problem. Karrin Murphy already knew all about the Library, and the other person she wanted to draft in also knew more than enough. ‘Understood.’
‘Speed is of the essence, Irene,’ Coppelia warned. ‘The Library needs this book, so if the choice is between the book or the apprentice…’
‘Understood,’ Irene said again, trying and failing to suppress the cold shiver down her spine. Coppelia could deny that this mission and the faulty Traverses had anything to do with each other until she was blue in the face, but Irene didn’t believe her. Something was going on, something important, and she was kept in the dark very deliberately.
‘Then I suggest you stop dawdling and get to work.’
Irene nodded, gestured at Thomas to follow her, and went to work.
‘I have been to B-457,’ Thomas said.
‘I know. You’re our local knowledge.’ So was the local Librarian-in-Residence, but given recent developments Irene thought it best to approach everyone not vetted by Mouse with extreme caution. ‘But there are far too many mysteries for my taste. We need a detective.’
Thomas’s eyebrows jumped up. ‘Harry?’
‘Harry and someone else.’ Harry did have an uncanny knack for getting to the right information, and so did Irene herself, but she could also admit that neither of them were in the running for Most Subtle Person of the Year. A mission in this particular alternate required a light touch, and possibly some undercover work. And she’d never met anyone who could disguise himself and blend in anywhere so well as Vale. ‘We’ll need to make a quick detour to get him.’
Thomas nodded.
Besides – and this she didn’t mention – she worried about Vale. She hadn’t seen much of him, but his behaviour had been… strange. There was no information – and Irene had spent her scant free time ploughing through the Library’s database – about what exactly excessive amounts of chaos did, what symptoms could be expected, over what time period these things happened… The only thing she did know was that Vale could, potentially, become Fae himself. Because he had some Fae in his ancestry. And because he fit the archetype of Great Detective so well. Becoming Fae for him would be easy.
And Irene hated it.
So dragging him to a more orderly world might not revert him back to normal, but it might at least slow the chaos down, or contain the chaos infestation in some way.
Not that she’d tell him.
He might deduce it for himself.
Of course, there was the minor issue of transporting someone chaos-contaminated through the Library. The Library wouldn’t let him in. But Irene imagined that she could simply send Kai to pick up Vale, transport him between worlds the Dragon way, and find her again once she stepped foot in B-457. Kai claimed he could track her down in some sort of mysterious Dragon way.
Time to put that to the test.
They had a bit of a walk ahead of them, so Irene distracted herself from the whirlwind of her own thoughts by asking some pertinent questions: ‘What’s the world like? B-457?’
‘Complex,’ Thomas grinned. ‘Easy to get arrested.’
Because of course nothing about this mess of a mission would be easy. ‘How’s that?’
‘Manners are subject to fashion,’ Thomas explained. ‘And what manners are fashionable changes as often as the weather. And if your manners aren’t up to date, well, you obviously don’t belong and if you don’t belong, you must be a French spy.’
Oh, bollocks. ‘And who determines what’s fashionable? The King? Parliament?’
Thomas shook his head. ‘Nope. The Society for the Promotion of Good Taste. They publish a helpful pamphlet several times a week with the latest updates about what is in and what’s out: Fashionable Manners, An Instruction for the Guidance of Polite Society.’
You could fill an entire pamphlet with that title alone. Irene felt a headache coming on. She hated worlds like that. In most alternates she could blend in with very little effort. Maybe people might think she was a bit odd, or her accent made her stand out, but her usual defence – a visitor from abroad – might get her arrested instead of giving her a free pass to be just a little different.
Getting arrested as a French spy didn’t feature on this week’s itinerary.
‘It’s more than just manners, right?’ she asked. ‘The Library’s database suggested what’s fashionable covers a wide range of topics.’
‘Mostly manners, clothes, and magic.’
Yeah, that might be a problem. Harry had Opinions about magic and the proper use thereof. Somehow Irene didn’t think he was going to take the concept of fashionable magic at all well.
Thomas laughed at her grimace. ‘Harry’s going to hate it,’ he predicted. ‘When we were there, it was all the rage to do summonings. Right now, who knows?’
‘Is it a problem if you can’t do magic?’
‘Not everyone can, so no.’ He grinned. ‘I got by on my good looks.’
‘Well, it clearly wasn’t your humility.’
‘Humility wasn’t considered a virtue last week.’
‘Lucky you.’
They both laughed. Irene decided she liked him.
‘So how did you get into all this?’ she asked, making an expansive arm gesture to indicate the Library. ‘Did Bradamant threaten you? Blackmail you?’
‘She offered me a job. I took it.’
Irene tasted a world of history and trouble behind those words, but also a flat refusal to elaborate. In that way he’d make an excellent Librarian; he’d never blab information he’d been told to keep to himself.
Irene couldn’t think of anything else to say, so they made the trip to the B-395 Traverse mostly in silence. She instead rehearsed her arguments for persuading Vale to come with her. Not that she thought she needed many; dangle a good mystery in front of him and he’d be off like a bloodhound. But what with him being so perceptive, there was every chance he’d figure out her ulterior motives for getting him off-world too, and he’d refuse to budge out of sheer contrariness. He didn’t like manipulation at all.
It's for his own good, Irene reminded herself. After all, he’d sustained the damage throwing himself headlong into danger for Kai’s sake. Irene owed him. They might not have made it out of Venice if it weren’t for him. And he hadn’t known what the risks were when he took them. Did it really matter if he knew nothing about her repairing the damage without his knowledge?
Irene checked both of them over before they crossed into B-395. Neither of them were dressed for it, but Thomas already wore a long coat; the standard Librarian uniform for when the local fashion had yet to be acquired. Irene could probably get by on the long skirt and blouse she already wore. They wouldn’t be here long enough to need to purchase anything.
The London of alternate B-395 may be filled with smog so bad that scarves worn in front of faces had become the permanent fashion, but it had begun to feel like home, like a place of her own to return to. Irene felt a pang of… something at realising it might be a while before she sat down with Kai in their lodgings again.
Those quiet moments had been too few and far in between lately, and she was, she realised, so tired. Dodging all over the known alternates might ensure she saw quite a lot of places and met a lot of people, but this alternate felt like home, to some extent. This was where one of her friends lived. This was where she had a place of her own to share with Kai.
She missed it.
They took a cab to Vale’s place. Thomas managed to take everything in without gawping like a tourist on his first trip abroad. Reluctantly Irene had to acknowledge that maybe Bradamant had actually known what she was doing for once when she picked him for the job. He certainly demonstrated the traits so encouraged in new recruits.
Maybe he’d make full Librarian one day.
Vale was at home; the lights were on. If he’d been out on a case, she’d have no idea when he’d be back. Irene might have been unable to wait for him, and she really wanted him on this case.
He opened the door himself. ‘Winters.’ He looked at Thomas. ‘A new associate?’
‘Bradamant’s assistant,’ she corrected. ‘Vale, this is Thomas Raith. Thomas, Peregrine Vale, the best detective I know.’
Vale arched an eyebrow. ‘Flattery is no use, Winters. You wouldn’t be here unless you required my help.’ He stepped aside to let them in. ‘Where have you left Strongrock? He has not been spirited away to strange places again?’
‘No,’ Irene said. ‘Not this time.’ Although she did keep her eyes open for any suspicious types with dubious designs on him. Or anything that might reactivate that wretched death curse. Neither she nor Harry had been able to determine if that thing was done now, or if it would periodically raise its ugly head again. Like malaria. ‘I have a difficult case. And I need your help. There’s a missing book and an apprentice turned traitor, currently on the run.’
‘Is that all, Winters? For a moment I thought you brought me something interesting.’
Irene didn’t reel back in shock, but that took effort. Vale had always been brusque, but he had never been this rude. He had changed, and not for the better. But how could she undo it?
‘It’s not simple, actually,’ she said, focusing on the task in hand. ‘The apprentice attacked another Librarian inside the Library. And she managed to open a door into an alternate on her own, which someone who isn’t a full Librarian isn’t able to do. Or shouldn’t be able to do.’
Fortunately, that did the trick. Vale’s eyes sparked with sudden interest. ‘You should have led with that.’
Irene proceeded to dangle tantalising bits, just to make sure she had reeled him in good and proper. ‘Or so we think. The Traverse was opened by someone “unknown” and that has never happened before, but the time and destination track with the traitor’s suspected movements.’
She left out the little snippet of Emily taking down a pretty injury-proof vampire with nothing but Shakespeare – weight of the book notwithstanding – because quite frankly, that was not her story to tell. Thomas himself didn’t really mention his vampirism unless he really had to, so Irene assumed he was a bit uneasy with the topic. If he wanted to inform Vale, that had to be his choice.
Unless, of course, Vale puzzled it out for himself.
‘No need to overegg the pudding, Winters.’ Vale smiled knowingly, but it was a friendlier smile, and the words were not so cold.
He’s still there. We’re not too late. So the sooner she could drag him into a higher order world, the better.
‘Come in. It is late, and you are ready to keel over.’
Irene opened her mouth to protest that, but realised she couldn’t. She tried to remember when she last slept, but it must have been sometime during her last mission – before her involuntary dip in a cold lake – and try as she might, she couldn’t quite determine how much time had elapsed since.
Library jetlag.
Not uncommon, especially among journeyman Librarians. They traipsed all over different alternates, sometimes in rapid succession, each with its own seasons and time zones. You could be in the midst of a winter night one moment, then in a summer afternoon an hour later, only to end in a Library where time did not exist at all. Small wonder that people got confused and disorientated if they did that long enough. The course of action recommended to cure Library jetlag was fortunately quite simple: one simply had to spend several days in one time and re-establish a good day-night rhythm. Alternatively one could remain inside the Library, provided they kept up a strict routine, though most found that hard to maintain, given that time inside the Library never moved at all.
Irene didn’t see either happening in her immediate future. Staying the night, getting a bite to eat, and sleeping for a couple hours was all they had time for.
‘All right,’ she relented. ‘Just a few hours.’