Draykon (28 page)

'Well, we're on
the trail of a murderer. I'd say all's fair.'

'You think this
place has anything to do with the man Ed was following?'

'It's possible.
See, the only reason I can think of for a sorcerer to track halfway
across Orstwych to use a rogue gate is because he was going
somewhere specific. Am I right in thinking you can't open a gate to
a particular location in the Lowers - just to whichever part of
it's closest to you at the time?'

'Right. If I
opened a gate right here, we'd end up in the Orstwych woods a
couple of miles northwest of where we came through.'

She nodded,
pleased. 'I think Ed's mysterious sorcerer was heading for
somewhere in this area. Naturally he found it easier to do most of
the travelling Above, where the landscape's constant and it's
easier to navigate. If that gate's a regular opener, it might not
even be a rogue. Maybe it's more like his front door.'

'That's a
thought. I don't know if it's possible to cause a 'rogue' gate to
re-open itself after it's been closed, but that's because we don't
keep permanent portals to the Lowers. It's not permitted. But I
imagine it could be done.' She was growing to recognise that look
of intent speculation on his face, his thoughts obviously whirling
as he pursued the idea.

'Well, the
details of
how
can be examined another time,' she suggested.
'The relevant point is the probable destination of Edwae's friend.
Anywhere within about a mile of the gate would seem
practical.'

'This is the only
building we saw, right?'

'Yes, but don't
forget that a lot of things could have been either hidden or not
here when we came through. It would be wise to stay in this area
through another few changes, see what comes up.'

Tren nodded.
'This place strikes me as a sorc's house, though. It's got that air
about it. I wouldn't mind living here myself.'

'When we've
defeated our enemy you can take over the tower. Call it another
incentive.'

'Generous of
you.' Tren stooped to pick something up from the floor. Standing,
he showed the object to Eva.

It was a ring of
wrought silver. Set into the centre was an indigo-coloured stone
that shone faintly silver.

'Istore,' she
breathed.

'Looks like it,
yep.'

Eva's senses
prickled. The atmosphere was changing, the air growing heavier.
Crossing to the window, she hung out of the embrasure until she
could see to the south. The purple light was fading, drifting away.
Something else was taking over, a radiance that held the rippling
blue-green changefulness of water.

She
swore.

'Tren, we have to
go.'

He didn't ask
questions. She was out of the window immediately, descending
rapidly. Tren followed. They reached ground level within moments,
so fast that Eva's palms began to bleed from their contact with the
stone. She ignored the pain, looking anxiously across the
grass.

'We need to find
something that's solid.'

'Right.' He
looked around. 'How do you identify “solid” in this
place?'

'You don't,' she
said despairingly. It was too late; all hint of purple had gone
from the skies and the flickering bluish light was growing stronger
by the second. She didn't bother to run. There was no point.
Instead she took hold of her precious bag, wrapping the strap
around her wrist and gripping it tight.

'Keep close to
me,' she said.

'What?'

'I think your
shirt's about to be ruined.'

She sensed
olifers fleeing back into their burrows, insects melting back into
the skies. The meadows rippled powerfully, the flowers
dissolving.

Then the ground
gave way beneath her feet and she fell into deep water.

Chapter Nineteen

Devary arrived at
Llandry's door early in the morning. Llandry had been awake for two
hours, riveted by the sight of the sun rising outside her window.
She longed to be outside to witness this extraordinary event, but
there was no balcony, and her experience the evening before made
her wary of leaving the Harp. Instead she threw the windows wide
open and sat in the window seat, ignoring the chill in the air as
darkness gradually melted into day.

Her pendant
rested on the low table in the centre of the room. Llandry had
taken it out of her cloak pocket as soon as she arrived home and
bound it up in cloth and ribbon, concealing the odd lavender-tinged
glow that it exuded in this strangely-lit place. She had left it
out of her possession knowing that, when it came to it, she would
find it hard to give it out of her own hands into Devary's - no
matter how willingly offered.

He arrived
looking anxious, even guilty. She opened her mouth to tell him
about Sigwide's theft but he spoke first.

'Llandry, I'm so
sorry - I don't know how - somehow the pendant is gone.' He spoke
the last part in a rush. 'I just discovered - I came right away.
Are you well? Has anything happened...?' He studied her carefully,
looking her up and down as if making sure she was in one
piece.

'I'm fine.
Sigwide took it.' She explained briefly, leaving out the part about
the white-haired woman for now. Devary's face relaxed in relief as
she spoke, though he gave the orting a glance of
irritation.

'That creature is
a liability. I suppose to keep it safe from him, I must wear it. I
don't imagine he can spirit it off my neck without alerting me.' He
unwrapped the little cloth bundle and fastened the chain around his
neck. He smiled at Llandry as the stone disappeared under his
shirt.

'We are lucky
that nothing too terrible has come of it. And now, I know I
promised you that we would see the town, but first I think we must
see my friend at the University. Will that be all
right?'

Llandry
hesitated. She ought to tell him the rest, but he seemed in a hurry
to depart. Perhaps they could talk on the way. 'Quite all right,'
she answered. Hastily closing the windows, she collected her cloak
and donned it. Devary chuckled to see the deep hood shading her
eyes, but made no comment.

A small two-wheel
carriage waited at the rear of the Silver Harp, with a tall,
grey-scaled nivven set into the traces. Devary assisted Llandry
into the passenger seat and took up the reins himself, skilfully
guiding the vehicle out into the winding streets of Draetre. As
they drove, Llandry nibbled a fingernail, undecided. She knew she
deserved reproach for her solitary wanderings the night before, so
she was reluctant to recount her adventures. But her encounter with
the white-haired woman was disturbing. He ought to know. Steeling
herself, she interrupted his light-hearted conversation and told
him everything. She had some hope that he would dismiss it as
unimportant, but of course he didn't. Instead, he was demonstrably
uneasy, questioning her minutely as to the particulars.

'Did she tell you
her name, or anything about herself?'

'No. I should
have thought to ask.'

'Describe her
again for me.'

Llandry did so,
as closely as she could. Devary frowned, and shook his
head.

'Could have been
anybody. Did she say why she wanted the pendant?'

'No.'

'Llandry. Did you
fly?'

'No.'

'Good. I knew you
would have more sense.'

'She guessed
where I am from. In fact, I think she may have recognised me. She
asked me if I made it. I think... some of those reporters got
pictures of me, before Mamma threw them out.'

Devary was
silent. At last he said, 'Well then, we had better finish our
business quickly.'

Llandry warred
with herself, feeling a surge of guilt at his obvious anxiety. She
had followed him when she knew she shouldn't, making a burden of
herself, and now she had made it worse. But it was humiliating to
have to keep apologising for making her own decisions.

He drove for a
while in silence. 'I sent a message to your mother last night,
informing her of your whereabouts. I also told her I would not be
sending you home yet, and that I would ensure that you are safe. It
would be ideal if you could refrain from making that
harder.'

'Fine. I won't do
any more wandering.'

'I am sorry that
it must be that way, but it won't last forever. Now, here we are.'
He guided the little carriage down an alley, barely wide enough to
admit the neat vehicle. Another left turn brought them into a
courtyard, inside which a few other carriages were parked. Devary
handed her down from the carriage with the utmost politeness, but
something in his manner suggested she had annoyed him. Her stomach
twisted with miserable anxiety at the idea, and suddenly she was
all too inclined to condemn her own behaviour. The notion was
frustrating. How long must she rely on others to protect her? And
why was Devary's disapproval so painful?

She hid her face
in her hood as they passed through a narrow door into a long, oddly
winding corridor. Space opened up either side of her, large rooms
glimpsed through tall archways as they proceeded rapidly into the
heart of the building. She saw bookcases crowded with books and
framed with chairs like supplicants before a throne; each chair
bore a silent occupant, absorbed in the pages of a
volume.

'Where are we?'
Her voice emerged startlingly loudly in the hushed atmosphere,
echoing off the cool stone walls.

'Draetre's
university library.'

'It really
doesn't seem large enough to have a university.'

'It's of an
unusual kind. Here.' He held open a door for her and she passed
through it, registering that Devary locked the door behind them
both. She surveyed a chamber smaller than the others they had
passed through. A woman sat at a table near the window, studying a
large book that lay open before her. The book was evidently very
old; its leather covers were tattered and decaying, and its spine
was supported upon a soft cushion that lay between it and the
desk.

The woman looked
up as they entered. Her eyes rested first on Llandry, with a
considering stare that made her quite uncomfortable. Apparently
around Devary's age, she was clearly Nimdren with her curling
chestnut hair and light-coloured eyes. The woman's face changed as
she transferred her keen gaze to Devary. She smiled, reluctantly,
as if she sought to suppress the expression but it overcame her
efforts. She stood up and advanced towards Devary, and he stepped
forward to meet her. Llandry noticed that he was wearing the warm
smile he'd so often turned on her.

'Indren. It's
been far too long.'

'So it has. Your
fault for moonlighting so long in Glinnery.' The woman, Indren,
smiled all the more as Devary carried her hand to his lips and
kissed it lightly.

'And I see you
brought one of them back with you.' Indren's eyes, a rather
startling pale green, rested again on Llandry.

'Yes, quite an
important one. Llandry Sanfaer, Ynara Sanfaer's daughter. You
remember Ynara?'

'Yes.' The word
was said without inflection, and Llandry wondered whether the
recollection was a pleasant one for this stranger.

'Llandry, this is
Professor Indren Druaster. She's an expert in Off-World
history.'

'Off-Worlds? Both
of them?'

'Does that
surprise you?' Professor Druaster lifted her brows at Llandry very
slightly, laughing at her.

'A little,'
mumbled Llandry.

'Nimdre has
chained itself to neither, you see, and therefore we may study both
with equal attention. Now, what of this trinket?' Professor
Druaster turned a winning smile on Devary as she resumed her seat.
He sat next to her, gesturing Llandry to a chair
opposite.

'It's no
trinket.'

'Oh, I am sorry.
I understood that it is an item of Ms. Sanfaer's
creation?'

Llandry felt a
ripple of annoyance, but the implication of the statement passed
Devary by. He sat back comfortably, smiling at Llandry as he opened
his travel bag.

'Certainly; it is
all of her own work.'

'Ah, the famed
arts of Glinnery. How I wish I had a little of your creative
talent, my dear.' Llandry bristled at the familiar term. She was
not fooled: Indren dripped insincerity. It would not be the first
time a scholar had looked down on the arts, but nonetheless Llandry
felt nettled.

Devary had found
the cloth bundle. He unwrapped it carefully and placed the pendant
on the table before Indren. Looking at it, Llandry felt a little
soothed. Evidently it was a skilled piece of work, whatever a
person's feelings as to the value of the aesthetic.

Indren studied it
without touching it. She drew an eyeglass from the belt at her
waist and examined the stone very closely. Llandry's eyes wandered
back to Devary's face. He watched Indren's procedures with apparent
absorption.

'An unusual
piece.' Indren lifted her head, and Llandry found herself once
again subjected to that sharp gaze. 'Where did this come
from?'