The Masked City (The Invisible Library #2)(53)

‘My friend was drunk,’ Irene said. She felt Zayanna’s muscles tense against her leg. She’s awake. Or waking up. ‘I had to get her out of there.’

The two in front of her shook their masked heads in unison. ‘Not good enough,’ the one behind her crooned. ‘Such a noble lady and gentleman wouldn’t be surprised by a little drunkenness. Let’s hear something better, or you’re for the Prisons.’ He lingered on the word, caressing it with his voice.

She could have tried knocking him backwards, but then she’d have been vulnerable to the two in front; and vice versa, if she’d lunged at them. They had the high ground, and she had nothing except the bottom of the boat to work with. ‘My patron and the Guantes have a feud!’ It didn’t take any effort to sound desperate, and it was almost the truth. ‘Yes, I admit it, I took an excuse to get out of there before they saw me - but they’d have made an example of me, to send a message. I had to run!’

‘Plausible,’ said the one on her right, ‘but not proven.’

‘Notice that she isn’t giving any names,’ said the one on her left. ‘I think she should tell us some names, don’t you?’

‘How about it?’ Again the sound of metal on leather from behind her. ‘Tell us some names, woman. Tell us some secrets.’

Irene weighed the options. If she gave them Silver’s name, then they’d question him, and he’d possibly sell her out to save himself. But if she just made up something at random, they’d probably spot inconsistencies, and she’d be in even deeper.

And she wasn’t convinced they were going to let her go, anyhow. Whatever she told them. However much she confessed. ‘I can’t say,’ she quavered. ‘I’d be punished.’

Zayanna was tense against her thigh, muscles coiled under her cloak.

‘Bah!’ The one behind her kicked Irene square in the back, sending her sprawling in the belly of the gondola, trapping a suddenly squirming Zayanna under her. ‘Get the thongs and sacks—’

Tangled in her cloak, her mask slipping loose, Irene tried to get her hands underneath her, but Zayanna wriggled to one side and knocked her off-balance again. She banged her head against the planking of the gondola and felt the man behind her plant his foot in her back, holding her down.

What she needed was a quick exit. And the only way out … was down.

The struggles, and Zayanna’s thrashing, would cover the noise. ‘Boat planks,’ Irene commanded in a low whisper, her lips against the boarding, ‘separate and come apart now!’

It took more out of her than she expected: energy ran out of her like water gushing through a sudden crack in a dam. She barely had the strength left to take a deep breath, but the results were dramatic. The boat came apart, from front to back, with a sudden expelling of timbers in all directions that made her briefly think of exploded diagrams and cut-out-and-make-your-own-gondola pictures.

Briefly.

Then she was in the water.

Irene had been expecting it, which was more than anyone else had been. She was also facing down and ready to dive, while everyone else was standing or fighting. Her hands went to her throat to unclasp her cloak, and she kicked briskly at the water, diving deeper in an attempt to get away from the turmoil on the surface.

The water was cold - the cold of the open sea, fresh from the ocean that fed the city’s tidal canals, and it was dark and full of silt. She had absolutely no idea which direction she was swimming in, after a few strokes, and could only concentrate on trying to get away.

Then something curled around her ankle.

Irene suppressed a scream, holding her breath, and kicked back at whatever - or whoever - it was, suddenly full of the energy of panic. She was running short on air, and while she was fairly sure she was moving away from the boat, that was where her certainty ended.

The thing - or person - grabbed at her ankle again. At the same moment her left arm hit something solid. She lost her focus, surging up to the surface in a sudden rush, emerging next to a building’s foundations. She took a gulp of air, blinking the water from her eyes.

The scene before her was more audible than visual. The fog hid any pursuers from sight, but despite its dampening effects, she could hear the commotion. The gondolier was screaming threats and prayers, ranging from calling on the Virgin to swearing bloody vengeance on the bitches who had destroyed his gondola, but generally focusing on the loss of his gondola. Irene felt a twinge of guilt.

Zayanna popped up next to her, her head and shoulders emerging from the water like a classical statue. Her hair clung wetly to her cheeks and bare shoulders, and her eyes caught the light and glittered in the darkness, her pupils slitted and inhuman. ‘Now how did you do that, darling?’ she breathed, her voice barely audible.

‘Is this really the time?’ Irene hissed back. ‘Can we just get out of here first and discuss things later?’ Hopefully much later - as in possibly never.

‘It’s you they were questioning,’ Zayanna pointed out. ‘I wasn’t involved …’

‘Oh yes, and they’re really going to believe that, when they’re looking for answers. The only reason they weren’t questioning you yet was because they thought you were asleep—’

There was a loud clunk, and the sound of running footsteps near where the action had been taking place. Irene broke off and made a vague swimming gesture with her hand.