Draykon (29 page)

Llandry was
silent. After a moment Devary stepped in, recounting, briefly, the
history of Llandry's gem.

'Istore,' said
Indren, when he had finished. Her lips twisted in a smile that held
a mocking hint. 'A romantic name. You have no idea at all, I
suppose, what it is?'

'Elder Ilae Shuly
recommended you as a consultant,' interrupted Devary
smoothly.

'Ah, Elder
Shuly,' she repeated, with obvious approval. 'There's a sharp
mind.' She looked back down at the stone, turning it to the light.
'It certainly doesn't originate from the Middle Realms. If anything
I'd say it was from the Uppers, but there's something -' She
paused. 'There's something of the Lowers about it, too. I might be
inclined to conclude it has its origins in both, were that
possible.' She smiled in a small way. 'You should've come to me
before, Mr. Kant.' She looked under her lashes at him, with a sort
of mock severity that Llandry found quite repulsive. Devary
shrugged and laughed.

'I'm but a poor
scholar. How could I guess it would fall under your area of
expertise?'

'Well. Attend me
to dinner, and I may be able to forgive you.' She smiled at him,
and he gave her a half-bow in response. She looked back at Llandry
and the smile faded.

'You must both
come. I will tell you more about this stone tomorrow, when I have
had chance to study it further.'

Llandry felt a
prickle of alarm. Suspicion and dislike made her bold, and she
spoke up. 'The pendant stays with Devary.'

Indren's eyebrows
rose. 'Oh?' Llandry's words withered away under that mocking stare,
but she met the woman's insolent gaze without flinching.

'You did bring it
here to be studied, I suppose?'

Llandry inclined
her head.

Indren offered
her a thin, false smile. 'Very well. If the pendant must stay with
Mr. Kant, then Mr. Kant must stay with me. He will be happy to
stand guard over me, I am sure: just in case I should try anything
inappropriate with your "istore" stone.'

Devary cast
Llandry a quizzical glance, and shrugged. 'Certainly,' he said to
Indren.

'Ms. Sanfaer may
amuse herself in the reading rooms, I've no doubt.' Indren was now
outright frosty. Llandry was not wounded: on the contrary she was
happy to go.

Llandry was left
to her own devices for most of the day. Devary emerged from time to
time to check on her, and repeatedly invited her to rejoin them,
but she steadfastly refused. She wouldn't be volunteering for any
more of the Professor's obvious disdain. It was bad enough that
Devary could be close to such a chilly, cruel woman.

She asked him
about it during one of his lamentably brief visits to her reading
nook, but he was evasive.

'We have known
each other for some time. She can be difficult, but... well. I must
go back, if you are comfortable.'

'Bored senseless,
and therefore, duly punished for my rebellion. It's been hours. Are
you making any progress at all in there?'

Devary drew up a
chair and sat down, though he sat on the very edge as if he
intended to leave any moment. 'Some of Indren's colleagues have
joined us. The consensus is that it is not a stone, as some of your
friends have suspected. The current theory under investigation is
that it is in fact biological matter.'

Llandry was
startled. 'As in, from an animal?'

Devary hesitated.
'Yes. Perhaps. You must understand, this is only an idea. It may be
discounted any moment, and another idea brought forward. But it
would not be the first time that animal parts have been employed
for magical uses.' He stood up, smiling down at her. 'You will
forgive the brevity of my visit, but I am needed. We are consulting
the university's rarer books - they have collections from the
Darklands as well as the Daylands - and the search may take days.
It will go faster if I involve myself.'

'Perhaps I should
help?' Llandry hesitated to say it, picturing a roomful of studious
strangers with horror. Before she was halfway through her sentence,
Devary was already gone.

***

It was growing
late, and Llandry was growing very hungry, when Devary finally
emerged with Professor Druaster behind him. They both looked tired,
but the Professor's eyes were alight with excitement. The two of
them talked in Nimdren, probably discussing the istore. Llandry
could only wish she could understand.

Devary's eye fell
on her belatedly, and he smiled apologetically. 'Apologies,
Llandry, we are being rude. We have made much progress, but there
is a great deal still to do. It is time to stop for the day, and
find something to eat.'

They were to go
across town for dinner, it emerged, to a popular food garden; its
name, the Adriana Gardens, brought a pleased smile to Devary's face
as Professor Druaster announced her plan for the
evening.

'How long is it
since you were there, Devary dear?' Llandry didn't miss the fact
that she was now using his first name.

'Must be a year.
More, even.'

'Ah! Then you
missed out on the fireworks displays; stupendous, truly, and only
offered for the anniversary. There are new menus - all your
favourites are still available, Devary dear, I put a word in the
proprietress's ear about that - and the desserts are particularly
fine.'

The Professor's
easy chatter ran on, directed entirely at Devary. Llandry followed
them out of the building and watched as Devary handed the Professor
into a smart new carriage and followed her inside. Llandry, left to
make her own way, was not particularly mollified by Devary's
apologetic smile as he realised his oversight. She ignored
him.

Professor
Druaster's carriage was a handsome affair, well upholstered and
finely made. Its mistress sat back upon the plush seating with a
proprietorial air and a satisfied smile.

'I could hardly
allow you to drive all that way in that appalling little gig of
yours, Devary.'

Devary chuckled.
'It's a faithful old thing, Indren. I've had it a long time, and
it's never failed me yet.'

Indren wrinkled
her nose disapprovingly. 'Yes, but no doubt it
will
, Devary
dear. Besides, a gentleman deserves luxury.' The smile she offered
with this pronouncement sickened Llandry anew, but Devary smiled
back readily enough.

Llandry turned
her attention away and looked out of the window as the twilit
streets rolled by. She was restored to her favourite blue cloak,
the hood shading her eyes and guarding the play of expression on
her face. She was not afraid of her disgust being perceived by
Indren Druaster: the woman was far too absorbed by Devary. It was
Devary's perception of it that she wished to avoid.

The journey was
moderately long given the event, but at last the carriage rolled to
a gentle stop. Devary jumped out and immediately made a point of
handing Llandry down first. She shook out her clothes, shivering a
little in the cool air. The building that rose before her was quite
low, only one storey, with balconies clustering around the
roofline. The roof itself was flat and open, verdantly decorated
with lush greenery that trailed in long tendrils to the ground.
Diners sat up high at low tables, bathed in the cool moonlight.
Llandry could hear strains of music drifting down from
above.

The same scene
was repeated at the rear of the building. Indren's party was
quickly led to a choice table in a shady alcove, slightly screened
from the chatter and stares of the other diners. Llandry took her
seat reluctantly, feeling that the evening could not end soon
enough.

She had expected
to feel like an intruder, and so she did. Indren was just polite
enough to speak in Llandry's own tongue, but she made no attempt at
all to include her in conversation, talking exclusively to Devary
about people, places and events relevant only to they two. At first
Devary was mindful of Llandry's presence, recommending her choices
from the menu, addressing remarks to her and frequently offering
her a smile. She was soothed and comfortable as long as he
remembered her, but as the evening went on he remembered her less
and less.

They had been
seated barely twenty minutes before a stranger approached the
table. Her curvaceous silhouette and sinuous walk made her
femininity quite clear as she swayed up to Devary. Their
conversation was conducted in Devary's native language, the fluid
Nimdren tongue which sounded so beautiful when he sang. Llandry
didn't understand a word, but that it was an intimate conversation
was clear enough. The woman flirted aggressively with him, ignoring
Indren Druaster's obvious contempt and apparently failing to notice
Llandry at all. Devary's manner to her was a little reserved, she
was thankful to note, but still he bore with her impolite behaviour
with much more grace than Llandry thought reasonable. At last the
woman departed.

Several other
diners visited their table over the course of the meal - most of
them women - and Llandry was obliged to watch the same scene play
itself out again and again. In between interruptions, Indren
Druaster continued to monopolise Devary's conversation, often
slipping into Nimdren. Devary glanced often at Llandry and she
sensed that he wished to include her more, but he would not stir
himself to interrupt Indren. Mortified, Llandry could not summon
any appetite no matter how many temptingly fragrant dishes were
placed before them, and at last she abandoned the struggle to let
it all pass her by. She stood up, raising her hood.

'I'm going for a
walk,' she said. 'It's beautiful here.' She did not wait for their
response but set off immediately, aiming for the garden that lay
behind the restaurant.

'Don't go too
far, Llandry,' she heard Devary say behind her. She did not need to
go far: merely out of sight and hearing would be enough.

Peace enveloped
her as she reached a pretty grove of trees. The babble of the food
garden receded into near silence and the heat and bustle was
replaced by coolness and a soft breeze. She sighed, turning her
face up to the winds.

These terrible,
bold women. All of them had trouble written across them in every
particular. She felt that none of them - most especially including
Professor Druaster - would be a good choice for any sort of
dalliance. She couldn't decide whether Devary saw it or not. If he
did, why did he tolerate their intrusive attentions?

She did not need
to ask herself why they flocked to Devary. It was that damned
chivalrous courtesy; his understated warmth and gentleness;
certainly his handsome features and winning smile. He offered them
little gestures: a kiss of the hand; a special smile; the gift of a
flower; a gently solicitous question or remark. None of these
things were particular in themselves, but together they amounted to
a distinct appearance of special interest. They were so easily
caught by it; they received a little and offered everything in
return.

Simultaneously
the worst and best of it was that Devary seemed entirely
unconscious of the effect his manner had on the women around him.
Perhaps he wasn't. Llandry would prefer to believe him unaware; the
possibility that he cultivated it made him appear a wholly
different person to the man she'd known in Glinnery. She was
sharply reminded of her own lack of experience with people. There
was no way she could decipher what Devary's behaviour
meant.

Distant diamond
stars twinkled through the shady, moon-silvered canopy of the
trees, so very far away. She took a few deep breaths of heady
twilight air, feeling gradually more refreshed. A gust of wind
ruffled her hair, and the ghost of a smile crossed her face as the
peace of the woods filled her and she finally began to
relax.

A sudden, sharp
cracking sound rent the air, emanating from behind her. Footsteps
sounded, loud and close. Before she could turn, hands grabbed hard
at her, bruising her flesh. She cried out as much with surprise as
with pain; her twilight reverie dissolved and a surge of fear
filled her. She struggled hard, kicking and shouting. A hand closed
over her mouth, cutting off her protests, and she was lifted and
dragged backwards.

Chapter Twenty

Eva kicked
against the dark waters that threatened to swallow her, cursing the
skirts that tangled around her legs. She fought her way grimly to
the surface, thrusting the bag upwards ahead of her. She broke the
surface, gulping air, praying that the leather of her satchel would
be sufficiently waterproof to keep the book safe. She began
treading water, turning slowly in circles. Water met her eye in
every direction, an unbroken horizon of green-touched blue. The
shortig hound - Bartel - paddled gamely not far away, but there was
no sign of Tren.

Several long
moments dragged by. Fear clutched at her, punching through her
composure. Could he even swim? She ducked her head below the water
again, staring uselessly into the dark ocean. She couldn't see
him.

At last, after an
agonisingly long wait, a small explosion rent the water nearby and
Tren's sodden figure appeared. He gasped for air, spluttering,
spitting out water. Once his lungs were filled a stream of curses
emerged, fluent and unceasing. Eva swam towards him and grabbed his
shirt.