The Masked City (The Invisible Library #2)(51)
Perfect. Irene leaned over to slide an arm round Zayanna. ‘We’ll just go outside for a moment,’ she announced to the rest of the table, as Athanais flinched back. Apparently Fae chivalry didn’t extend to situations where he might get his lovely new red velvet cloak messed up.
‘A good idea,’ Martha said. She shifted her chair a little further away, as Irene levered Zayanna upright and swayed under her weight. Over at their table, the Guantes were emphatically not paying attention, and the landlady was pouring their wine. Irene just hoped that meant the story was on her side tonight.
That’s right, keep it up - just don’t bother looking over here, don’t think of this as anything unusual …
‘Madam.’ One of the other drinkers raised his hand to catch her eye, then pointed over at a door on the right-hand wall of the tavern. ‘That way goes out onto the alley outside.’
‘Thank you,’ Irene murmured. She assisted a staggering Zayanna over to the door, trying to ignore the woman’s worrying groans. It might be poetic justice, but she didn’t want vomit all down her nice new cloak, either.
Outside, the cool air was full of fog. It was even thicker now than during their boat ride to the tavern. The temperature seemed to revive Zayanna a little, and she leaned against the wall, swaying, as Irene looked round nervously. There could be anyone hiding here - on the rooftops, around the corner - and she’d never see them coming.
‘Wanna go home,’ Zayanna mumbled.
‘That’s a bit far, I’m afraid,’ Irene said. ‘Take a few deep breaths and sit down. Let me help you.’ The alley was mostly free of refuse, and it was easy to find a fairly clean bit of paving. ‘Now just sit here. I’ll get you some water.’
‘Don’t want water.’ Zayanna’s dark curls tumbled round her face as her hood fell back. ‘Wanna go home. Wanna be with all my sisters, preparing for dawn sacrifice. Wanna seduce a hero. Are you a hero, Clarice darling?’
‘Of course not,’ Irene said quickly as Zayanna tried to curl up against her. ‘I’m just like you. I’m just a woman with a job.’ She couldn’t hear anyone following them from the tavern; the others must be trusting her to handle things.
Zayanna wasn’t saying anything.
‘Zayanna?’
The drunk Fae let out a soft sigh. Harsher critics might have called it a snore.
Right. This was the perfect moment for Irene to exit stage left and get well away before the Guantes, or indeed anyone else, took an interest. Really, she had to congratulate herself. Textbook stuff. All she had to do was walk off right now … And, her conscience pointed out, leave an unconscious woman alone in the street - at night in a dangerous city. A woman whom Irene herself had drugged. Various words came to mind for this sort of behaviour. They were not nice words.
But Irene had a mission, and Kai’s life was at stake. Where was her sense of priority?
She bit her lip. ‘False dichotomy,’ she whispered, as if hearing the words would make them true. ‘There is no reason why I can’t help both of them.’
She shook Zayanna’s shoulder. ‘Wake up, Zayanna. Where are you lodged? Where is your patron staying?’
Zayanna’s eyes fluttered open for a moment behind the mask. ‘Gritti Palace. Like yours.’ She slumped again.
Well, that could work, for Irene had been planning to talk to Silver anyhow. Dragging Zayanna along and dumping her on the hotel staff would mean a little extra effort, but it would also, she assured herself, be good cover.
She’s just a Fae, and you’ll probably have to run or kill her if she finds out who you really are, her sense of expediency pointed out.
The thoughts wormed their way into her mind. But with a grunt she crouched down and slung Zayanna’s arm over her shoulder before pulling the other woman to her feet. It was what Kai would have done. Probably. Even if she was a Fae.
The nearest canal was down to the left along the street. Hopefully there were frequent gondolas. ‘Shut up,’ she muttered to her inner critic and staggered along, together with Zayanna.
They waited a cold, damp ten minutes that felt like twenty, Zayanna snoring gently against Irene’s shoulder, before a gondola appeared. But he did seem amenable to a fare to the Gritti Palace.
‘Perhaps the lovely visitor would care to pay first?’ the gondolier suggested just as Irene was about to embark. He quoted double what the previous gondolier had charged to get the six of them all the way from the platform to the tavern.
‘I was thinking of rather less than that,’ Irene said flatly. ‘About half that, to be precise.’
The gondolier spread his hands. ‘Ah, but have you no pity for a poor man, madam?’
‘Yes, I’m sure,’ Irene said. ‘Nevertheless, that’s still what I’m offering.’
‘I’m sure the beautiful lady could give a little more,’ the gondolier said. ‘Otherwise I must leave her alone here in the mists, waiting for some other gondolier.’ He gestured at the fog meaningfully. The soft noise of waves lapping against the houses mingled with the faint echoes of singing and talking from the tavern. No other gondolas could be seen or heard.
Luckily, a figure two-thirds of his original price was finally sufficient. And she’d seen a purse under Zayanna’s cloak. Hopefully there would be enough in it.