A good solid shove had a boat off its rails and into the water. Irene grabbed an oar and clambered in, just as Mr Harper came staggering through the door.
He grabbed for her. She swung with the oar. It cracked solidly into his chest, sending him staggering backwards. The force of the swing almost tipped her out of the boat as it skidded towards the open river. Then the current caught it.
Shrieks came from the shore. Through the rain and darkness Irene could make out Mrs Walker, and other shadows behind her, painted in whites and blacks by the lightning.
‘You’ll regret this!’ Mrs Walker screamed after her.
‘Enjoy the book!’ Irene called cheerfully, as the river carried her downstream towards York.
CHAPTER TWO
It was nearly midnight when Irene walked into her hotel. Her skirts and boots left a sodden trail on the carpet. She’d expected to have to tip the desk clerk, but he merely shrugged, and asked, ‘Caught in the floods, madam? They can take visitors a little by surprise.’
‘It was annoying,’ Irene agreed, glad to have a convenient excuse. The river had washed her all the way through the centre of town and out the other side. And then she’d been scolded by a policeman for going pleasure-boating by night during the floods. Explaining wouldn’t have helped, so she’d just looked stupid and apologized, before getting directions back to her hotel. ‘I’ll have to be more careful next time,’ she added, and headed towards the lifts.
‘Excuse me. Are you Miss Winters?’
Irene’s only excuse for turning, without checking the lobby mirrors to see who was asking, was that she was wet and tired. She’d heard a young female voice, rather than an elderly vampire, but it was still rank carelessness for an agent of her experience.
The woman rising from one of the lobby armchairs almost glowed under the ether-lamps. Her hair was a rich gold – not the sort of bleached yellow that was considered fashionable at the moment in this alternate world, nor even the ash-blonde shade that looked golden under moonlight, but a heavy warm gold as bright as buttercups. Her dark coat was subtly out of fashion: it was expensive, of good quality, but the collar was cut too high and the waist too low. Her gloves were silk rather than wool or velvet, and the veil pinned to her hat was clearly an afterthought, rather than designed as part of the outfit. But most of all, it was her face that gave her away: its beautiful serenity was unconcerned by what lesser beings might think of her.
She was a dragon in human form.
She began to walk across the lobby towards Irene, as casually as if they already knew each other. The fact that they were representatives of two factions, whose actions could influence the many worlds of the multiverse, seemed a mere afterthought. Her power ran ahead of her, an invisible thrill in the air which Irene could feel against her skin. She wasn’t as dangerous as some dragons Irene had met – but she wasn’t a lightweight, either. ‘I don’t think we’ve met,’ she said. ‘But I’ve been told a little about you.’
‘I’m afraid you have the advantage of me, madam,’ Irene said politely.
‘Well, at least I know what you do for a living.’ The woman smiled graciously and extended her hand.
Irene manufactured a smile of her own. She rejected the offered hand. She could sense the other woman’s leashed energy beneath her human appearance, and it made Irene distinctly wary. ‘I’m so sorry,’ Irene said. ‘I really don’t know who you are or what you want. Under these conditions . . .’
The woman withdrew her hand. For a moment her lips pursed, but she smoothed them into another smile. ‘That’s very sensible of you. Perhaps we should talk for a bit – I have something important I’d like to ask you. I think this establishment’s bar is still open?’ And even if it isn’t, it soon will be, her tone implied.
Irene reminded herself that she didn’t need more enemies. ‘I’d be delighted to sit down and chat, but perhaps the nearby tea-room might be more welcoming? And if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to change my clothing . . .’ She gestured at her dripping skirts. ‘And if I might ask your name?’
‘Of course,’ the woman said. Her smile widened a little. ‘I’m called Jin Zhi.’
Unfortunately Kai had never mentioned a Jin Zhi. Nor had the grand total of two other dragons (his uncle, Ao Shun, and said uncle’s personal assistant, Li Ming) whom Irene knew personally. And Irene couldn’t get at the Library’s files from here, which meant she had no way of checking up on this Jin Zhi (assuming it was the dragon’s real name) and whether she was dangerous.
It wasn’t as if the Library and the dragons were hostile. They were generally on polite terms, with the worst disagreements being over the ownership of particular texts. But the dragons, representing the forces of order and reality, and the Fae, representing chaos and fiction and unreality, were enemies – constantly and violently so. Irene had wandered into the fringes of that conflict, having a dragon as her personal apprentice and student, and didn’t want to get more involved.
The Library didn’t ally itself with either side. Librarians weren’t supposed to get involved. Being the allies of one side would mean being the enemies of the other side. The Library survived as neutrals; any other position would be far more dangerous.
So why was Jin Zhi here, and how did she know who Irene was? And what did she want from her?
Irene changed her clothing and towelled her hair dry as she considered possible implications. She didn’t mind making new friends – allies, whatever – and she had no objection to drinking tea with dragons. Yet if this particular dragon thought Irene was going to follow her orders, or that Irene’s loyalties were for sale, then matters were about to become . . . awkward. And what was this important thing that she wanted to ask Irene about? The words hung in Irene’s mind, more of a threat than a promise.
She sighed. She would just have to go and find out what the dragon wanted. So much for a nice quiet evening with a good book.
Jin Zhi was waiting for Irene in the tea-room, already seated at a table. She had a small notebook open and was writing something, but when she caught sight of Irene she slipped it into her handbag.