‘It would help if she could speak,’ Jin Zhi said. ‘But she’d probably lie again. How long till the drug wears off?’
‘It should last for at least a few hours,’ Qing Song said. ‘It’s hardly been tested on these people. Only on . . .’ He paused, his eyes flicking to the guards, and let the sentence drop with a meaningful shrug.
Jin Zhi walked towards him. ‘Qing Song, much as I regret doing this, I’m going to suggest an alliance.’
Qing Song looked as unenthusiastic as Jin Zhi sounded. ‘Really,’ he said. ‘An alliance. With you.’
‘I know it’s unconventional,’ Jin Zhi said. ‘But her majesty has been known to reward results and ignore tradition. I will be honest with you. My searches in China have been unprofitable. We have three days left: there is no time to waste. If we can bring her majesty the text together, then perhaps she’ll set us some other challenge, one that will allow us to compete fairly.’ She studied Qing Song carefully. ‘My lord of the Winter Forests, has it occurred to you that both of us may die over this? And what will that achieve? Will our families thank us, if we both fail and shame their reputations? There’s more to be gained by looking at the situation from a new angle.’ Her tone turned sour. ‘Such as using a Librarian.’
‘As always, you make an appealing argument,’ Qing Song said. His tone was neutral, but the wolves were raising their hackles and stretching, their heavy muzzles dropping open briefly to show long white rows of teeth. Hu made a small gesture of contradiction – negation, even – but Qing Song ignored it. ‘So. We keep the Librarian as a hostage. If Ao Guang’s son contacts us, we are prepared to exchange her for the book. If my men locate the other Librarian, then he may have the book, too. But if neither option plays out in our favour, what then? What do we do with her?’
‘It would be wasteful to kill her,’ Jin Zhi said. She didn’t even bother to look at Irene. ‘But it’s too risky to keep her here. Place her in one of our private territories. Even if Ao Guang’s son can track her, he can’t intrude there without violating our territory and making it a political matter. Keep her away from books – use drugs and shackles, of course – and she should be safe enough.’
For a moment Hu caught Irene’s eye, and the expression on his face was one of sympathetic regret. I did try to warn you, his eyes seemed to say.
Panic and fury chased each other round Irene’s brain like angry cats. She knew what the Library would do if this played out: they’d disclaim all knowledge of her actions, claim that she’d been working on her own – just as Melusine had warned her. But even that might not be enough to save the Library from the political fallout. And it certainly wouldn’t save Irene. Drugs and shackles. The words whispered in the back of her mind like a little musical-box tinkle from the depths of nightmare, and wouldn’t go away.
‘And which of us keeps her?’ Qing Song demanded.
‘I do.’ Jin Zhi raised a hand to cut off his objections before he could make them. ‘One of us has to. Why not me?’
Qing Song didn’t mince his words. ‘Because I don’t trust you.’
‘And I’m supposed to trust you, if you keep her?’ Jin Zhi asked. ‘Given your recent behaviour?’
‘You have a habit of using what other people give you. How else would you have found me here, except by tracing my token?’ An undertone of bitterness ran through Qing Song’s voice like a vein of ore in stone. ‘We did once exchange tokens and vows, but you were the one who told me that time was past. But now you seek me out and propose a new alliance. How can I trust you?’
Irene shifted her weight and took the opportunity to check her guard’s grip on her arms. His hold was still firm, but less so than earlier. If she could only manufacture a distraction . . . Qing Song and Jin Zhi seemed absorbed, rehashing what sounded like an old love affair and break-up. But she could also hear the desperation in their voices. They were almost as trapped as she was, with no way out except to get hold of the book. To them, Irene, Evariste and his daughter – and the whole of this world, and the Library itself – were acceptable collateral damage.
If pure anger had somehow made her able to use the Language at that moment, then Irene would have burned down the entire room, with them in it.
Hu refrained from comment, as a subordinate. But the hint of sourness in his expression suggested that he wasn’t enjoying the discussion. His eyes were distant with thought, as if he was trying to formulate an effective objection to the plan.
Faint music drifted in through the open windows, an accompaniment to Jin Zhi and Qing Song’s debate on how they were going to avoid mutual betrayal, who took custody of the Librarian, whose fault it was anyhow, and whose fault it had been fifteen years ago.
The ringing of the telephone cut through the room like a knife, cutting all talk dead. Qing Song and Jin Zhi both turned to look at the device as if it should be executed for improper behaviour.
Hu picked up the receiver. ‘Hello?’ he said.
A pause.
He turned to Qing Song. ‘My lord, “Lucky” George Ross requests an audience.’
‘He has my permission,’ Qing Song said without hesitation. ‘Bid him approach.’
‘Are you sure this is a good idea?’ Jin Zhi asked, as Hu murmured into the phone. She nodded, very slightly, towards Irene and the two guards.
‘These men are in my service. I trust their discretion – and George could be useful.’ Qing Song didn’t move, but the wolves rose simultaneously to their feet and padded towards the men – and Irene. ‘And my pets have their scent, should it prove necessary. They can, and will, find them.’
Irene heard the man holding her catch his breath, and felt his hands tighten sweatily on her wrists. She wasn’t entirely sure how long the two men would remain loyal, but she had no doubt that for the next few minutes they were going to be very loyal indeed.
One of the wolves sat down at Irene’s feet. Its eyes were deep amber, as clear and rich as thick honey. It was odd, Irene decided with the calmness of terror, that a simple wolf should be so much more frightening than all the werewolves she’d stared down in the past. Perhaps it was because Irene had been able to use the Language then: she hadn’t been weaponless. Or perhaps it was because werewolves were ultimately people, and Irene could deal with people. But she couldn’t lie to an animal – only run from it or kill it. And right at this precise moment, she couldn’t do either.
‘And her?’ Jin Zhi indicated Irene.
‘She can say nothing. Besides, I’d rather have her under my eye than in another room, even if she is guarded. The woman is slippery.’
Irene decided to rate that as a compliment.
Hu put the phone down. ‘George Ross will be joining us in a moment, my lord. He will have attendants with him.’
‘You think he’ll know something useful?’ Jin Zhi queried, directing the question to Qing Song. She barely looked at Hu; he was apparently beneath her notice.