The Masked City (40 page)

The sixth compartment also seemed empty, until she spotted someone lounging on a black velvet sofa with a glass of pale-green liquor. It just wasn’t the person she’d been expecting to see.

‘Zayanna?’ she said blankly.

‘Clarice!’ Zayanna attempted to hide the glass of liquor under the sofa, but some of it spilled, and the scattered drops left hissing marks in the carpeting. She was back in her bikini, her long bronzed limbs artfully displayed against the sofa’s darkness, hair tumbling down over one shoulder. ‘I was just about to get back to searching …’ She frowned. ‘Wait a moment. It was you that I was supposed to be searching for?’

‘It was?’ Irene tried to think of a plausible lie. ‘Well, you’ve found me now, so you don’t have to worry about it—’

Then her brain cut in. Zayanna was on the Train, apparently searching for her. Which meant that others would be seeking her too. And Vale and Kai … Her stomach dropped.

‘Why were you looking for me?’ She desperately wanted any answer except the one she expected.

‘Well.’ Zayanna was absently twisting a tendril of hair, but she was also watching Irene closely from under lowered eyelashes. ‘There was this rumour that you’d rescued the dragon and were escaping with him. Darling. And we were with you earlier, so we were tagged as potential conspirators - until we agreed to help with the search, just to prove how non-involved and non-traitorous we are. Darling.’

Irene spread her arms wide. ‘Do I
look
as if I’ve got a dragon hidden anywhere?’

‘No,’ Zayanna said readily. ‘That’d be because he’s now being held further down the Train.’

Irene took a deep breath. ‘Well then,’ she said, and was surprised at how normal her voice sounded. Where was the utter stomach-churning, headache-inducing exasperation - no,
fury
- at yet one more obstacle in her way, one more damned interference by the damned Guantes? ‘I’ll just have to do something about that.’

Zayanna frowned. ‘Are you absolutely sure you should be telling me that, Clarice?’

‘Look at it this way,’ Irene said. Her hand sought the butt of the gun that was still somehow concealed in her soggy skirts. The gunpowder would be thoroughly soaked by now, but Zayanna didn’t know that. ‘Is it really in your best interests to get into a confrontation with an armed, dangerous, dragon-rescuing type like me? Seriously, Zayanna, I thought you were complaining earlier because you never managed to interact with heroes.’

‘I was complaining that I never got to
seduce
heroes, darling,’ Zayanna smiled. She twirled her hair again, her teeth gleaming and more than a little pointed. ‘But it’s very sweet that you were actually listening.’

‘Hand me over to the Guantes and you won’t even get that chance,’ Irene said, mentally resigning herself to a potential inconvenient seduction routine. Still, if Zayanna was anything like Silver, she’d probably get just as much out of Irene turning her down - as long as it was melodramatic enough. But first she had an escape to organize. ‘Is anyone in the next carriage?’

‘Atrox Ferox and Athanais,’ Zayanna said. She frowned. ‘Are we talking a serious seduction here? A really truly thing of passion?’

‘A sporting chance at one, if we get out of this alive,’ Irene said. She might be laying it on a bit thick, but Zayanna seemed to be buying it. But how far could she push the other woman? ‘Do you know if Atrox Ferox or Athanais have patrons who are inclined to stability, or to war with the dragons? And what of your own?’

‘The Lord Judge is Atrox Ferox’s patron, and he’s inclined to stability,’ Zayanna offered without hesitation. ‘So Atrox Ferox is here to report on events, rather than because of any alliance with the warmongering Guantes. No question, darling, the Lord Judge is one of those known quantities you can depend upon. But I don’t know about Athanais. Or his patron. If he has one.’

‘And what of yours?’ Irene pushed. She had no idea who the Lord Judge was, but his neutrality sounded encouraging.

Zayanna sighed and the droop of her shoulders looked entirely genuine. ‘Darling, he doesn’t
care
. That’s why he sent someone like me along, rather than one of the proxies he actually trusts. He’ll just end up going with the majority, as usual. Of course he doesn’t want me compromising his interests, so I don’t want to be caught doing anything I shouldn’t, but otherwise he couldn’t care less.’

Which meant no opportunity for Zayanna to advance … unless
Irene
offered her a chance to play a role. ‘From what you’re saying, he’s not interested in losers,’ she said casually. ‘If the Guantes should fail, then he wouldn’t want to know them - he’d deny ever even knowing them in the first place.’

‘Well, naturally,’ Zayanna said. Her eyes narrowed again. ‘Wouldn’t anyone?’

‘Right,’ Irene said, conscious of the enormity of the risk. But if it paid off, she’d actually have a chance. She hauled the wet gun out from her dripping skirts and offered it to Zayanna, butt-first. ‘I need your help, Zayanna. As my ally. As my
friend
. I want you to stand behind me and use my body to hide the gun while I’m talking. And if the talking doesn’t work, then I’m going to need you to threaten people with it.’ Perhaps a slight hint at emotional involvement might be a good idea. ‘
Please?
‘ she added hopefully, batting her eyelashes in what she hoped was an appealing fashion.

Zayanna’s eyes widened. ‘You want me to stand behind you with a loaded weapon?’

‘Yes,’ Irene said firmly.

‘Oh,
darling
.’ Zayanna threw herself against Irene, nestling her head against her chest and wrapping her arms around her, ignoring Irene’s wet rags. ‘Nobody’s ever said anything so
romantic
to me in all my life.’

Irene gently prised her off, somewhat inconvenienced by the gun in her hand. ‘Let’s do this,’ she said, mentally crossing her fingers that Zayanna was right about Atrox Ferox’s neutrality. He was, after all, the other one with a gun.

He and Athanais were standing in the corridor of the next carriage when Irene opened the door, and he immediately raised his gun. It looked futuristic, sleek and unnaturally large - though that might have been due to it being pointed at her.

She raised her hands above her shoulders, conscious of Zayanna right behind her. ‘Good evening, gentlemen,’ she said pleasantly.

‘Clarice.’ Atrox Ferox eyed her levelly, his dark eyes narrowed. ‘Or would some other name be more appropriate?’

Marvellous, I’m being typecast as a master spy in this story. I think I preferred being underestimated.
‘My real name is unimportant,’ she said, aiming for a note of authority. ‘What matters is why I’m here.’

‘A matter of grand treason, I heard,’ Athanais put in. He was wearing a lute slung across his body, and his hands tensed above the strings as if it was a weapon too. ‘Is there another way of seeing it?’

Irene lowered her hands slowly. Atrox Ferox wasn’t making any move to shoot her, and it was tiring to hold them up. ‘Personally, I’d call it trying to stop a war. Whether or not you’d call that grand treason probably depends on your politics.’

‘Clarification would be useful,’ Atrox Ferox said. He wasn’t lowering his gun, but Irene decided to count the lack of gunfire as promising. ‘Truthful explanation even more so.’

‘Kidnapping a dragon king’s son to auction him off to the highest bidder is an audacious move, I’ll give them that,’ Irene said. She turned to face Athanais, but kept Atrox Ferox just within sight. ‘It could start a war. It might even start a war you could win. Though let’s not go into the consequences for ordinary humans throughout the spheres, shall we? That would just be depressing. But kidnapping a dragon king’s son and then managing to lose him in the middle of Venice, in the Ten’s personal territory? And allowing him to escape? I’m not terribly impressed with Lord and Lady Guantes, not impressed at all. If someone was going to start a war, I’d hope it was someone a bit more efficient. Truly great leaders shouldn’t be so easily foiled. If I were you, Athanais, I wouldn’t call interfering with their schemes “grand treason”. I’d call it a minor action that will save you a great deal of trouble further down the line.’

‘I’m not interested in winning or losing a war,’ Athanais said. His fingers drifted lower, brushing the strings. ‘Maybe just being involved is enough? For the fame, for the story … So I’m not sure that I really care about your argument. It’s a nice effort, I’ll give you that. But it’s not enough to save you.’

‘Maybe it isn’t,’ came Zayanna’s voice from behind Irene, before Irene could work out a new line of reasoning. ‘But this is. If you play a single note, then I will shoot you.’

Athanais swallowed. ‘Atrox! She’s gone traitor too - shoot her!’

‘Shoot her,’ Irene said blandly, ‘and you’ll bring her patron into this as well. Do you really want that?’

‘She’s the one pointing the gun at me, not the other way around,’ Athanais snapped. ‘And as for you - we don’t even know who or what you are. For all we know, you’re another dragon in disguise.’

‘I’m just incognito,’ Irene said, wondering how long she had until Athanais called for reinforcements. If there were guards in the next carriage, it might only take a single shout. ‘This isn’t worth your time. The best thing you can do is step aside and stay well out of the Guantes’ failure. People remember fame and stories, Athanais, but they remember failure too. Get out while you can.’

She saw Atrox Ferox tense, and she braced herself to duck, but he moved in the opposite direction, bringing his gun round to slam the butt into Athanais’ head in a whirl of black steel and leather. The other man slumped, his eyes rolling up in his head, and the lute fell against his body in a squawk of jangled strings.

Irene took a deep breath before saying, ‘Thank you.’

‘Your argument is sound,’ Atrox Ferox said crisply. He gathered Athanais under his left arm, holding the unconscious man against his body. ‘Why expend energy on a lost cause? Even now, if the prisoner were returned, too much power has been lost. The name of Guantes is no longer what it was.’

‘Oh yes,’ Zayanna agreed. ‘He jumped out of his opera box, was washed halfway across the Piazza and had to run to catch the Train - it’s not what one expects of a patron. They ought to be above such things.’ She paused. ‘Clarice, did
you
have anything to do with any of that?’

‘A little bit,’ Irene admitted as casually as she could, enjoying the image of Lord Guantes being flushed across the Piazza like a wet rag.

Atrox Ferox didn’t quite crack his impassive facade, but his eyes widened and he seemed visibly impressed. ‘When last seen, the Guantes were in the carriage four down. They had two prisoners: the dragon, and another whose powers aren’t known to me. The carriage is guarded. Also, the Train is pursued.’

‘Pursued?’ Irene said in alarm. She hadn’t thought things could get any worse, but here they were. Just another cherry on the cake.

‘Others among our great ones are involving themselves,’ Atrox Ferox said. ‘Even those who had no interest in the dragon would wish to take the Train for themselves - then bind it anew. And the Rider himself comes in force, to reclaim what is his. Thus it flees.’

‘Can they catch it?’

‘Perhaps within the hour.’ Atrox Ferox shrugged, the light catching the steel plating in his bodysuit. ‘Perhaps less, if luck favours them.’

Irene repressed the urge to run her hands through her hair. ‘So, correct me if I’m wrong. The Guantes are on board. They have two hostages. They are in the carriage four down from here with - how many other guards?’

‘Two armed guards,’ Atrox Ferox said. ‘And Sterrington. I will momentarily place Athanais where he will not be disturbed.’ He opened the compartment door and deposited him on a cream sofa.

‘And how many guards in each carriage between us?’ Irene was trying to gauge her opposition, but however she did this, the words YOU LOSE seemed worryingly inevitable.

Atrox Ferox shrugged. ‘Half a dozen in each carriage, and the same in the carriages beyond them. You must have made quite an impression.’ His speech was significantly less formal now, coming and going, and Irene wondered how much of it had been a deliberate pose.

Zayanna sighed and leaned against Irene’s back, draping her arms round Irene’s neck. ‘Darling, I hate to say it, but this isn’t sounding good. Can you enchant their eyes?’

‘Probably not,’ Irene admitted: there were just too many. Her mind raced through other tactics instead. She
had
read Sun Tzu, after all, and she knew her enemy. Assuming Atrox Ferox wasn’t preparing a trap - to say nothing of Zayanna, whom she could only trust so far, if at all.

She needed to think outside the box somehow. Having Atrox Ferox and Zayanna escort her through as a ‘captive’ was a possibility, but she could think of far too many ways it could go wrong.

Something was prodding at the back of her mind.
Outside the box.
The Train was basically a set of boxes. So she needed to get outside the Train. But could she … ? She looked up at the ceiling of the compartment. There were two unobtrusive trapdoors in the ceiling, one at each end of the compartment.

All
right
.

‘Clarice?’ Zayanna prompted, and Irene realized they were waiting for her to speak.

‘I think I have an idea,’ she said.
A really bad one.
‘I need to shorten my skirts, I need a lift and I need a gun. Atrox Ferox, may I borrow yours?’

He considered for a moment, then handed it over. ‘If any ask, I will say you overcame me and took it from my body,’ he warned.

‘That sounds very reasonable,’ Irene said. She took it from him and gauged its weight in her hand. ‘How many shots does it hold?’

‘Fifteen. You will find there is little recoil.’

‘What do you mean, a lift?’ Zayanna asked. ‘And where do we come into it?’ She brought out a knife from somewhere - Irene decided not to wonder how she’d hidden it in her bikini - and offered it to Irene.

Irene tucked the gun under one arm and began to roughly shorten her skirts to knee-level with the knife. ‘I mean that I’m heading for the roof of the Train.’

There was a deadly silence. Finally Zayanna said, ‘Darling, are you completely and utterly insane? I mean, it’s tremendously brave of you, but—’