‘I am telling you this, my lady Winters, to explain another power demonstrated by our great ones. At our end of the universe, so to speak, where the forces of chaos dominate, some are so powerful that their power can permeate the very earth upon which they walk. In this way, they can instigate earthquakes, affect the movements of tides, and the like. The dragons think they control the elements, but we have our own methods of influencing our worlds.’

Irene frowned, trying to understand. And she wished she had a notebook, to preserve all of this for the Library, assuming she made it out alive. ‘So this world - or at least, this Venice - hosts Fae with these types of powers?’

‘Yes, you see you do understand. I felt I should warn you, in the interests of fair play.’ He smiled alarmingly. ‘Out here, in places that are more hospitable to my kind, the laws of the physical world are fluid, and the great ones can take advantage of that to bend them to their will. Even while the Fae here play at mortal politics, don’t forget that their power runs through this world like the blood in their veins.’

Well, that explains more about why high-chaos worlds are so dangerous … Am I contaminated? I managed to use the Language last night - but would I know if I was contaminated? Another thought came to her. ‘And is that why the atmosphere of this place is so injurious to someone like Kai? Just as you - as a being of chaos - would be hampered if you were in a world relying on order.’ And why hadn’t these rulers noticed Irene herself: was she too small for their attention?

‘And there we have the second matter.’ Silver leaned forward, regarding her. ‘This particular sphere has two points that recommend it to many of my kind, including Lord and Lady Guantes in this case. Firstly, it is neutral ground for Fae to some degree, as the rulers of this Venice keep themselves above feuds with others of their kind.’ Irene would have liked to ask more about that, but he continued, ‘This is why the Guantes have managed to invite so many of my powerful kindred to their auction. And disagreements amongst those who are invited must be suspended on this territory. The Council of Ten - the great ones who rule here - are not under the orders of the Guantes. They merely assist, aid and abet them, while playing host to the rest of us.’ He raised a finger to stop words that Irene had not spoken. ‘But don’t assume that this means that the Ten will welcome you too, pet. Quite the contrary. Be careful of whose attention you draw.’

Irene suppressed a sigh. Just one more detail that he’d omitted. ‘This would have been useful, if you had mentioned it earlier,’ she said. Like when we were planning this. ‘But I thought that, historically, the Council of Ten were just advisors to the Doge, and he was the actual ruler when Venice dominated the area—’

‘Oh, history,’ Silver cut her off. ‘You’ll be talking about reality next, as if it was something special too. In this Venice the Council of Ten rule the city from the shadows, and all fear them. They play with each other’s agents, just for the fun of it, but they always hold together against outsiders.’

‘And why are the Ten helping the Guantes?’ Irene asked.

Silver shrugged. ‘While the Ten don’t necessarily support the Guantes, they certainly aren’t going to turn down a possible advantage. If there is a war, they’ll be nowhere near it - the dragons can’t reach them here. No, the Ten will let matters play out, and will gain from hosting the auction. It’s a sensible choice.’

‘If you say so,’ Irene responded. It wasn’t worth arguing. ‘But is this explanation going somewhere?’

‘It leads directly to my next point,’ Silver said. He swung to his feet, pacing in her direction. ‘The prison. Or should that be the Prison? Or the Prisons? The Carceri. They were designed by Piranesi …’ He caught the look on Irene’s face. ‘You’re frowning. Perhaps in some other place and time this Piranesi fellow spent his life making etchings of Roman ruins, and kept his prisons imaginary. Here they’re real. They are the underbelly of this sphere’s imagination, the foundation on which this city is built.’ He leaned in closer. ‘To create a city in constant paranoia, my pet, where spies watch each other and run around like rats, where everyone fears what lies behind their neighbours’ masks, where you can post an anonymous denunciation every morning before the very Doge’s Palace … Why, for that, my little mouse, you must have prisons. Dark, choking prisons, secreted in the attics or in the cellars. But even worse than that, even more frightening, are the prisons that lie elsewhere, in dimensions only accessible via passages leading down into the darkness, to great echoing rooms and long rows of cells.’

His eyes held hers, and his voice was like silk against her skin, something trustworthy but tempting, impelling her to drink in his words rather than analyse and think. ‘In the further Prisons, the Carceri, nobody will ever find you - because nobody will ever know where you are. There is no sunlight and no wind, only the movement of air from great turning wheels, which seeps down the long passageways and stairwells. There is no fresh water and no tides, only the deep pools of ancient water that will never stir. You’ll find old stone, old timbers, old chains and racks, and all of it more enormous than you can imagine - older than time, and more patient than eternity.’

His hand cupped her face and he bent in to brush his cheek against hers, to whisper in her ear. ‘And if you are caught, my dear, that will be where they will take you, however much you scream and struggle, however prettily you beg, however desperately you fight.’ His voice caressed the words. ‘And they will keep you there until they have decided how best to … dispose of you.’