The Masked City (The Invisible Library #2)(47)
‘My dear, we must have a clothing shop first,’ a woman in a black bikini said, sitting at the edge of the platform, her legs dangling knee-deep in the water. ‘I’m called Zayanna, darling,’ she introduced herself to Irene. ‘I swear, had I been allowed to bring as much clothing as certain other people …’
Several small boats were floating on the far side of the platform. Some were gondolas, large enough to hold half a dozen, but others were slightly larger crafts with several oarsmen. The boatmen - gondolieri? - all wore black cloaks, domino masks, striped jumpers and tricorne hats, as if it was some sort of uniform.
‘Excuse me,’ Irene said, then switched to Italian. ‘Excuse me! Let me through, please.’ She edged up next to Athanais and quickly managed to negotiate a price for the six of them. Sterrington, the one in the business suit, was happy enough to pay, as long as she could have a receipt for it.
The idea of taking refuge in a tavern was sounding better and better by the second. She could use a stiff drink, and get her bearings and pick up local gossip before going back on the hunt for Kai. As long as the pack of seemingly friendly Fae didn’t turn on her. She finished agreeing the deal with the gondolier and shifted back to English. ‘Everyone aboard, ladies, gentlemen. We are getting out of here before someone high-ranking requisitions our craft for their pet elephant and we all have to swim to the bar.’
There were chuckles, and the others filed on board the narrow boat. The remaining student was introduced as Atrox Ferox - an Asian Fae in black leather and latex plating. He had a sleek gun holstered at his side and his face was chiselled and expressionless. Zayanna simply slipped into the water and swam up next to the boat, sliding an arm over the edge to hold on. Sterrington helped Irene on board before following her, and Athanais joined them.
The boatman stood to the rear, oar dramatically poised, and then the boat slid into motion, pushing away from the platform and heading across a lagoon into the city.
It was everything that a fairytale Venice should be, Irene decided cynically. The buildings were brick and marble, old and beautiful. They reared triumphant and agelessly out of the night fog, blazing with oil-lamps and coloured lights. Further in she could see other boats - smaller gondolas - darting around with lamps hanging at their prows, and there were distant sounds of music and laughter. Further away, someone screamed briefly and was silent.
‘Look,’ Sterrington murmured, pointing back towards the platform they had just left. An ebony coach had come to a stop at the head of the platform, pulled by four black horses. A servant was helping a woman into it, while other servants loaded her luggage. Even from this distance, Irene could recognize Lady Guantes.
‘Do you think we should have stayed and tried for an introduction?’ Athanais suggested. ‘There must have been a dozen ways we could have done her some small service—’
‘Invasive,’ Atrox Ferox snapped. It was the first thing Irene had heard him say. His voice was like his face, sharp and cold. ‘One does not force one’s attentions upon the dependant of a patron.’
The woman in the water lifted herself to rest on the side of the boat, propping herself on one elbow. ‘That would be “force one’s company” rather than “force one’s attentions”.’
‘Your correction is appreciated, Zayanna,’ Atrox Ferox said sourly. ‘One does not force one’s company upon the dependant of a patron without that patron’s permission. The sequel of a casual meeting would be more appropriate when it is arrangeable.’
As she tried to unscramble his meaning, Irene found herself wondering if dragons had language issues as well. Was there a draconic language which they all spoke? And if so, could she learn it?
‘A penny for your thoughts, Clarice,’ Martha said.
Irene looked for something innocent to say. ‘I was surprised that so many of us don’t have immediate assignments. Could it be that our patrons were more concerned with the size of their retinues than with us being genuinely useful?’
Athanais, Martha and Zayanna laughed. Sterrington’s mouth twitched at the corners. Atrox Ferox stared, unspeaking, into the darkness.
Irene shrugged. ‘I suppose some things are the same everywhere.’ She was very aware that every attempt at interaction was a risk. But if she was going to get information out of them, then someone had to start the conversational ball rolling.
‘Oh, look!’ Zayanna pulled herself up on the side of the boat again and pointed towards the shore they were approaching.
‘Yes,’ Sterrington said calmly, ‘the buildings are extremely impressive.’
‘Not that. Look at the people!’
There was a moment of silence. Now that they were closer it was possible to get a good look at the people loitering along the pavements, even through the shrouding fog. Some were visible through windows, or in other gondolas, and the most obvious common denominator, Irene realized, was that they were all wearing masks.
‘Is it Carnival?’ Irene asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Martha shrugged. ‘It’s Venice. So of course it’s Carnival. Why didn’t I think of that!’ She slapped her hand against her thigh. ‘I need a mask!’
‘We all do, or we’re going to be obvious and out of place,’ Athanais said. ‘Clarice, you’ve got to ask our boatman to take us to a mask shop first. Please?’ He made big soulful eyes at her. Again, she felt relieved that her cover as one of them seemed to be holding. For now, at least.