‘Very true.’ Qing Song rose from his chair and reached into his jacket.
Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. Panic worked almost as well as oxygen in giving Irene a burst of fresh strength. She tried to get her balance and hook a foot behind Hu’s ankle, but he simply shifted his weight. He yanked her arm further up behind her back, dragging her onto her toes.
Irene’s vision was muzzy, veined with flashes of light. Qing Song was standing next to her now, holding something cold against her lips. As if he was dosing one of his pet wolves . . .
With the last of her consciousness she tried to keep her mouth shut, but Hu’s hold on her throat loosened, making her gasp for air, breathing in huge racking gasps of it. A cool liquid ran down her throat. She choked on it, barely conscious of anything except her struggle for breath.
When the room stabilized, she became aware that Hu had let go of her throat. He was saying something to one of the two gangsters. The more she heard, the less helpful they sounded. ‘. . . handcuffs?’
‘We generally kinda leave those to the cops, Mr Hu,’ the gangster answered.
‘Very well. Just hold her for the moment, then. I don’t think she’ll give any trouble.’ Her free arm was twisted behind her back, to join the one that was already pinioned, and a stranger’s hands took a firm hold of her. Qing Song was scrutinizing her critically, and Hu stepped in front of her again. ‘You won’t cause any further problems, will you, Miss Winters?’
Irene opened her mouth to speak.
Nothing came out.
Something in her throat was numb. She tried to form the words, but she couldn’t make a sound. She realized with despair that the Language was out of her reach. Sheer panic made her struggle in the grip of the man holding her, until common sense made her stop. But her fear didn’t go away. She was helpless in a way that she had never been before.
‘Where did you get any of that stuff?’ Jin Zhi indicated the flask that Qing Song was sliding back into an inner pocket. ‘I’d thought it was being reserved for . . . special cases.’
Such as for really important Librarians? Irene wondered. She supposed she shouldn’t be too surprised that the dragon courts had something specifically adapted to deal with Librarians, though it was a worrying discovery. But at the moment she was more concerned with how fast it would wear off. She could still write in the Language, but not while restrained like this.
Qing Song ignored both the question and Irene. ‘The urgent matter is what to do next. Hu, you said that you thought she was lying about the Library knowing what’s happening here.’
‘My lord, she’s been under observation for most of the day.’ Hu absently neatened his jacket. ‘If she had known everything when she came to Boston, or even to New York, she wouldn’t have acted the way she did. If all she’d wanted to do was tell you to leave the other Librarian alone, then she’d have come here directly – rather than having to be dragged into your presence. But we’ve seen that she’s a shameless liar: she’ll tell you anything that would persuade you to release her. We can’t trust a word she says.’
Show me a single person in this room who’s actually been telling the truth today, Irene thought venomously. Apart from the wolves. And the gangsters.
‘Yes, but what about Ao Guang’s son?’ put in Jin Zhi. ‘She’s been known to share his company. He might be involved. And what about the other Librarian?’
Qing Song rounded on her. ‘You appear to know far too much about my affairs.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Jin Zhi said, a little too fast. ‘I have been listening for the last five minutes, after all. I heard what she said. You had a Librarian in your hand. She took him from you. And now we have another Librarian, but she’s not ready to cooperate – yet. Or worse still, she could be cooperating with someone else.’
Except that’s not quite right, Irene thought. Even if Qing Song didn’t spot it. How has Jin Zhi been finding these things out? And how did she know about Qing Song employing a Librarian, but not about Evariste’s escape till just now . . .
But Jin Zhi’s words made Qing Song hesitate. ‘You cannot be serious,’ he finally said.
‘What if Ao Guang wants to influence which of us gets the position? If he offered one of us the book on terms of obligation or alliance, could we afford to refuse? It would be the perfect opportunity for the King of the Eastern Ocean to get a foothold in the Queen of the Southern Lands’ affairs. And here we see the boy’s pet Librarian meddling in our business, hunting down the book for her own ends. Am I wrong?’
Irene almost admired the way Jin Zhi glossed over the fact that she’d asked Irene to get involved – even if only to prevent Qing Song receiving Librarian help. But she felt a growing panic at the way this was implicating both Kai and herself. And Kai’s father, Ao Guang, the King of the Eastern Ocean. The idea of him being involved in this mess – and blaming the Library for it – was a horrible new way in which things could go wrong.
She struggled frantically for speech again, but nothing came out: she shaped words in the Language, but couldn’t give them voice.
Qing Song considered. ‘You may be right,’ he said grudgingly. ‘If she’s been acting as his servant throughout, that would explain a great deal. Hu, can you confirm this?’
Hu seemed reluctant to take the limelight. ‘The Librarian was in company with another man earlier, my lord. The photographers didn’t manage to get a picture of him. The best description they could give of him was that he was dark-haired and handsome. She’d said at the time that he was another Librarian—’
‘It’s quite clear that she lies a great deal,’ Jin Zhi cut him off. ‘I don’t know how they keep their little thefts straight. But has it occurred to you that if she’s here and he’s not, then he’s busy doing something else?’
Irene glanced at the reflection of the gunmen in the mirror. They were both doing a good job of looking blank, but she was certain they were paying attention. The professional part of her mind noted that expert conspirators didn’t discuss this sort of thing in front of the hired help.
Or at least, not in front of hired help who were going to survive the next few hours.
Qing Song surveyed Irene sidelong, as if pricing up a piece of second-hand furniture. ‘You think that the son would exchange the book for her?’ he asked.
Irene forced all telltale emotion from her face. Because yes, Kai probably would hand over the text – which would leave Qing Song holding Evariste’s daughter, Irene and Kai compromised, and the situation even closer to the edge. She twitched a shoulder in a silent shrug, attempting to convey that Kai wouldn’t exchange a piece of cold toast for her.