The Masked City (The Invisible Library #2)(70)
‘Indeed.’ He was watching her, his eyes alert for the least sign of weakness. ‘A most convenient gentleman, for those who want to take advantage of his unique capabilities. Very - what is that word? Useful. Yes, useful. Astonishing, what he’s made of himself, and they say that he’s still developing. He may have his own schemes, but he is always the utter professional when it comes to cooperation with others …’
‘And he’s the one who told you where you could find a dragon, wasn’t he?’ Irene said. It made too much sense. Alberich would have recognized Kai’s nature after their last encounter, and he was definitely the sort to hold a grudge.
‘Exactly,’ Lord Guantes agreed. ‘Which is why I’m in his debt. Handing you over would settle the matter quite nicely.’
The spike of fear nearly turned Irene’s stomach. Her very worst nightmare coming true … Wait. This is too obvious. Cold common sense dragged her back from panic to critical analysis. He’s deliberately waving this at me to persuade me to choose a lesser evil. If he wants me in his service this badly, then why?
‘It would, wouldn’t it,’ she agreed, and caught a glint of annoyance in Lord Guantes’ eyes. He’d been expecting that to have more of an effect. Come on, boast to me. Tell me something useful. ‘The local nobility must be very annoyed that all their boxes are taken tonight,’ she remarked. ‘And all these people here from different worlds, but nobody seems to notice.’
‘This is our Venice, Miss Winters.’ Lord Guantes steepled his fingers as he looked out over the crowd with an air of ownership. ‘The world is what we say it is here, and it begins and ends with Venice. There is no land beyond it to interfere. The Ten command, and the people obey them as their masters. Even the very ground beneath our feet obeys their will. Everything is precisely as Venice ought to be. Napoleon will never come to this Venice; it will never be conquered, never be lessened, never be anything else. The Ten wish everyone to see their chosen visitors merely as foreigners, and so therefore they do.’ He paused. ‘Their chosen visitors, that is. I do not think you received an invitation, Miss Winters.’
‘I consider the kidnapping of one of my friends to be an unspoken invitation,’ Irene retorted flatly. ‘Which makes you my official host, Lord Guantes.’
He chuckled. ‘Not bad, but rather lacking in legal support. I don’t think you could argue that in front of the Ten.’
‘Is that what we’ll be doing?’
‘Only if you push me that far, Miss Winters, and only if absolutely necessary. You know how this sort of thing goes. An anonymous denunciation. Your public exposure. Your arrest. Your … questioning.’ He didn’t give the word the same inflection Silver might have done, to make something unwholesome and lascivious out of it. He merely let it roll out, heavy with the weight of darkness and dungeons and hopelessness. ‘By the time you were standing in front of the Ten, I promise you that you would already have confessed everything.’
‘I’m surprised you haven’t turned me over already,’ she said, as casually as she could. She was aware that she was walking on a razor’s edge, trying to find out what he wanted without pushing him too far.
The lights in the house were dimming again, and the audience noise fell to a hush as the curtains reopened.
Lord Guantes waited until the action had begun again, before continuing. ‘Of course, there are other options.’
‘Yes?’ Irene said, trying to throttle back the eagerness in her voice.
‘But your options are now very limited, Miss Winters. Limited to who I decide will be your new master or mistress, for you are my prisoner now.’ His pause was to allow her to agree to that, but she said nothing. He went on regardless. ‘The Ten would be glad to have you, I’m sure. You could be traded for later advantage. They have no wish to actively start a feud with your organization, so it would probably be a question of wringing you dry for information, then keeping you a prisoner until they had some use for you.’
Which tells me more about how you see things than about how they see things. Irene gave a rigid inclination of her head, waiting for him to continue.
‘Then again, I might gain advantage by presenting you to one of my allies, or to secure a potential ally.’ His pause there could have been designed for her to acknowledge the subtleties of high politics, as expressed by the trade in souls. ‘Some of the powerful of my kind would be glad to have you as a personal enemy in their story, or a student.’
‘A student?’ Irene said, surprised.
‘Eventually. After sufficient training. Or … a toy.’ His tone conveyed sadness at the need to actually mention such unpleasantness, but suggested that he could easily catalogue each possible indignity, torture or worse - or even perform them, should it become necessary.
Irene swallowed. Her mouth was dry. From a clinical point of view, she knew he was only - only? - attempting to frighten her. But the actual experience was indeed frightening, as she felt the compulsion to obey him, and she had to fight with everything she had not to succumb to that power.
Was Lord Guantes already controlling her? Was that why she was sitting so passively, convincing herself she was doing it to discover his secrets? She ran mentally through a couple of plans. Collapse the entire opera box. Shoot him. Threaten him with the gun. Smash his chair and set fire to his brandy. Jump over the edge into the audience. She thought she could do any of them … if she decided to. If she chose to make the effort.