Draykon (12 page)

'No. He said
there's a delegation on the way from Glinnery, and they want the
changes explored before it's rectified. Seems they've got a theory
they want testing.'

'Oh?'

'Something to do
with the istore, unsurprisingly.'

'Mm,' said Eva.
'Not at all surprising.' She remembered the little Sanfaer girl's
words back at the Darklands Market.
There is a cave
,
near
to where I live. It's in the walls.
Eva wondered whether the
Sanfaer family happened to live near the border to
Glour.

Vale was silent
for several minutes. She rested comfortably against him, reflecting
that married life might not be so bad if it included such
companionableness.

As if reading her
mind, Vale looked down at her and smiled. 'I fear our marriage
plans will have to wait a little, in the midst of this mess. I'm
sorry for that.' She said nothing. He squeezed her waist slightly,
kissing the top of her head again. 'Aren't you?'

'Yes,' she
replied.

Chapter Nine

Llandry swung her
legs out of bed and stood up, gingerly. Her legs trembled, but she
didn't fall. She moved her arm carefully, gently working the
muscles. Days of her mother's diligent care had considerably
lessened the pain, and she felt herself to be healing. She still
felt weak and shaky, but that was due to inactivity as much as
injury. It was high time she left her bed.

She took a few
steps, smiling when she didn't topple. Sigwide sat on his haunches,
watching as she pulled a woollen shawl around her shoulders. He was
overwhelmed with excitement when she moved towards the door; he
raced around her feet and then darted on ahead of her, making his
way unerringly to the kitchen. Obviously he'd been making himself
at home while she slept.

'Ah, Siggy.' She
felt a surge of affection for her friend. He had barely left her
side during her confinement to her room. Whenever she had woken,
she'd found him curled up on her stomach or tucked against her
side, purring at any sign of life from her. If she was immobile, he
would be immobile too. It was comforting to be the object of such
unconditional devotion.

Her pleasant
feelings evaporated as she reached the kitchen door and heard two
male voices inside. The dark, gruff voice was her father's. The
other was Devary Kant. She froze. She had assumed he would have
left by now.

Peeking into the
kitchen, she saw Devary sitting in one of the dining chairs with a
large book spread across his lap. She hung back in the doorway,
studying him covertly from the safety of the shadows.

He wasn't a young
man precisely, but he didn't look very old either. Perhaps he was
about her mother's age, just entering his forties. His skin was a
little weathered, as if he travelled a great deal. He said he was
from Nimdre, and his accent seemed to confirm it, but his
complexion was as pale as any Darklander's. He wore his longish
brown hair tied into a tail. She noticed smudges of ink on his
face; as she watched he absently brushed back an errant lock of
hair, transferring more coloured inks from his fingers onto his
temples.

Ynara wasn't
visible, but her voice could be heard speaking.

'...timing is
interesting, Dev. Twenty years without a word from you, and then
you turn up, all of a sudden, in the middle of an inter-realm
crisis?' Devary started to say something but she cut him off. 'I
don't care to hear your tales again. You can't expect me to believe
this is just a social visit.'

'But it is,' said
Devary. 'Wait a minute, let me explain.' He sighed and closed his
book. 'I admit my arrival at this time is no accident. I was sent,
yes. But when I said I was retired, I spoke the truth.' Ynara
snorted derisively but he ignored her. 'My employers have refused
to accept my resignation from duty. They required somebody to visit
this household and discover the truth about this istore stone. I
believe their motives are above board, as far as that counts for
anything. If I had not accepted the assignment, they would have
sent someone else - someone less sympathetic to your family. And,
Ynara...' He leaned forward, his expression growing earnest. 'This
is
a social visit. I've wanted to come back, for years I've
thought about it. This merely gave me a reason to overcome my fears
of seeing you again. I don't know if you'll forgive me, but I want
to make it up to you. I do. Just tell me. Anything I can do for you
or your family, I'll do it. Anything.'

Llandry felt
curiosity and discomfort in equal measures. As interesting as this
was, she shouldn't be eavesdropping. She backed away from the door,
meaning to return to her room and await her mother's visit, but
Sigwide had grown tired of waiting for her. He ran heedlessly ahead
and nudged open the door with his nose. His thoughts were full of
food - as usual - and he sent her an excited image of a bowl
brimming with fruits and nuts. Before she could prevent him, he had
darted into the kitchen.

Devary had
seemingly learned that where there was Sigwide there was generally
Llandry, too. His sharp hazel eyes followed the orting's casual
progress across the kitchen floor, then travelled to the doorway
where she stood. He smiled, looking remarkably at ease for a man
with ink all over his face.

'Hello,' he said.
'Welcome back to the living world. Your mother hoped you'd be up
today.'

Llandry
reflexively drew her shawl closer around herself, avoiding his
gaze. She went to her father and leaned against his side, pressing
her face into his shaggy blond hair. He didn't say anything, which
she appreciated; he merely wrapped one muscular arm around her and
gave her a squeeze.

A muffled squeak
caught her attention. Sigwide stood beside his empty bowl, his
small body quivering with indignation. He squeaked again as she
looked at him, and she recognised the sound as his polite,
apologetic interruption. She grinned in spite of herself, bending
to refill his supplies. The wounds on her back pulled and she bit
back a cry, bending at the knees instead. When Llandry
straightened, she immediately found herself wrapped in a tight hug,
her mother's distinctive scent enveloping her.

'Llandry, love.
How are you feeling?' Ynara lightly investigated her wounds,
turning her around to check the damage to her back. Llandry winced
slightly, feeling the skin pull against the half-knit
wounds.

'Quite a lot
better, Ma. I've a sense I may live after all.'

She heard a
chuckle from behind her. Probably Devary. She turned back into her
mother's embrace, hiding her face against her shoulder.

Her father spoke.
'Llandry, you were right about the border.'

Llandry looked up
quickly. 'Oh?'

Aysun cleared his
throat and nodded. 'The border's moved, all down the south-east
side of the forest. Some places only twenty feet or so. Others,
more like eighty.'

'How?
Why?'

'Hard to say,'
said Aysun gruffly. 'Elders are working on it.'

'Also. I don't
suppose you heard the news from Glour before you went haring off to
that precious cave of yours, hm?' Ynara's tone had taken on that
disapproving quality that Llandry so dreaded, but she couldn't
blame her mother for being annoyed.

'What news?' was
all she said.

Ynara tutted. 'I
didn't think so. I'm glad, though, or I'd have to have you
certified as insane.' She guided Llandry to a chair and gently
pressed her into it. 'That beast you saw - black, pale eyes, and so
on - has been sighted in Glour, too. Not just sighted. Three people
were killed, all of them former customers of yours.' She fixed
Llandry with a hard stare. 'All carrying istore around, Llan, and
stripped of it after they were dead. The connection is obvious.
There's little doubt it all has a lot to do with that cave of
yours. It's southeast of the city, isn't it, near the Glour
border?'

Llandry nodded,
her throat too dry to speak. Three people dead? Because of her
jewellery?

Aysun grimaced.
'That's it, then. The Night Cloak was moved in order to absorb that
cave into Darklands territory. No saying why, just yet, but you
must stay well away from it from now on, Llan.'

'Promise,
Llandry, please,' said Ynara.

'No fear of
that,' said Llandry faintly. 'I've no wish to die by death claw.'
She felt numb. Her injuries might be severe but she had been lucky
indeed to avoid a far worse fate. Probably it was only her wings
that had saved her; her chances of outrunning a beast that moved
with such horrifying speed were minimal.

'Does... has
anybody identified it?'

'The word
"whurthag" is being thrown around,' said Ynara. 'That's what the
papers are saying. Sensational stuff, scare stories, the usual. It
might not be true. The bulletins haven't backed it up
yet.'

Llandry nodded.
The papers were mostly independent, and they reported whatever they
pleased - the more sensational the better. The bulletin boards, on
the other hand, operated via Irbellian technologies licensed by the
Glinnery government, and their content was carefully screened. Many
people waited for the bulletins to pick up a story before they
would give it any credence.

She cast a
questioning look at her father. As an expatriate of Irbel and a
talented engineer, Aysun was employed as a technician - among other
things - with Irbel's local engineering outpost. Part of his job
was to maintain and update the boards with new headlines. If a
story on the so-called "whurthag" was planned to appear soon, he
would know.

Guessing her
question, her father shook his head. 'Haven't had any orders on
that kind of news.'

'What do you know
of this 'istore', Llandry?' Devary's enquiry was mild enough, but
Ynara shot him a look of deep suspicion. He spread his hands. 'That
the istore is important is beyond question, Ynara. It must be
identified.'

Llandry disliked
having his attention fixed on her. She averted her eyes, instead
watching Sigwide devour his dinner. 'Not very much,' she admitted.
She told him, rather hesitantly, about her cave, how she had
discovered it. 'I wish I had a piece to show you. It's more or less
opaque, but with a bit of translucency. Indigo coloured, shines
silver. It isn't like any gem I've ever worked with
before.'

'It emits light?'
Devary sat tapping his fingers against his cheek, apparently in
thought.

'No. Well - only
in the cave. When I remove it, it stops glowing.'

'When you say it
is unlike a gem, what do you mean?'

Llandry pondered
the question for a moment, trying to recall the way the stones felt
in her hands. 'They don't feel like gems,' she said at last. 'They
aren't cold the way stones are. But I've never cut one. Somehow I
didn't want to.'

'The interest
they have caused is ... feverish,' said Devary. 'Do you know
why?'

'Well, I...' For
some reason Llandry did not wish to share her connection with the
stone with this stranger. But he was right: the questions were
important. 'When I wear it, or hold it, I feel different. I feel
less... less anxious. Calmer, stronger even. And I feel almost like
I could - could -'

'Could what,
love?' asked her mother. She smiled encouragingly at Llandry,
squeezing her hand.

'I don't know. I
feel like I could do things I've never been able to do before. I
can hear animals better. Once I could almost talk with Sigwide, in
a way. His thoughts were clearer to me and mine to him. And I could
sense more than before. Like hearing better, but not the same.' She
stopped talking, embarrassed by this long speech. A hated blush
crept up her cheeks.

'Clearly it is
remarkable,' observed Devary. 'If it has this same effect on
others, then it is no wonder it has taken the fashionable world by
storm.' He smiled at Llandry. 'Thank you for answering my
questions.'

Llandry merely
nodded awkwardly. She was growing tired now, her limbs heavy, and
her wounds were hurting.

'Back to bed,
Llandry, love,' said her mother, looking narrowly at her. 'You're
tired. I'll dress your wounds again first.'

Llandry was quite
ready to leave the room and escape Devary's scrutiny. She stood up,
slowly, but her knees weakened halfway across the room and she
almost fell. Her father and Devary both reacted; Devary was the
closest and reached her first. She found herself scooped up and
carried to her room. She was gently laid down on her bed, and a
moment later Sigwide was placed on her pillow. She barely noticed
as her mother bathed her wounds and replaced her bandages. She fell
asleep with Sigwide curled against her face.

***

Llandry was aloft, suspended in the skies over Glinnery. She
was lost in the clouds, enclosed within a dense, drifting white fog
that utterly obscured her surroundings. Downwards she drifted, down
and down until the fog cleared and she could see the wide caps of
the glissenwol beneath. She landed gently, sinking up to her knees
in a carpet of spongy moss; as she fought her way through it the
clouds cleared overhead, revealing a sky tinted with lavender. The
glissenwol were so tall she could barely see their caps from the
ground; they gleamed with a vividness that hurt her eyes. A heady
scent of alberries, nara-fruit and luminaef blooms assaulted her
nose and she felt she could hardly breathe under the onslaught of
that tangled aroma. She gasped for breath, tasting the blood that
trickled steadily from her nose. Birdsong pelted her ears with rich
notes both raucous and intensely melodic.