Leximandra Reports, and other tales (2 page)

His heart sank
as he realised.
Red like Lady Glostrum’s gown.
He’d allowed
his thoughts to wander while he summoned the Cloak, and that was
the image that his absurd mind had conjured for him. Dark red
velvet.

He swore,
letting several precious seconds pass by in blind panic. He’d
turned the damned Night Cloak
red
! The whole bloody realm
was swimming in blood-red light; not bright enough to damage
anything, he hoped and prayed, but certainly
wrong
enough to
be seriously alarming.

Crap, crap. He
couldn’t strip the Cloak and start again; the sun was already
shining through the red veil he’d drawn across the realm. Its light
would only be thin yet, but he couldn’t risk it. Maybe he could
darken the veil, work it steadily down into properly dark,
colourless shadow. It would take a little time; he’d better get on
with it before Lord Angstrun made it here and-

‘
WARVEL!
What in the bloody tarnation have you done to
the Cloak?’

Tren shuddered.
The Chief Sorcerer’s voice really did carry
impressively.

‘
Er,’
he stuttered. ‘Not quite sure, m’Lord.’ He tried not to look up as
the imposingly tall figure of Lord Angstrun strode into the room,
not caring to experience - again - the look of pure fury that no
doubt dominated his boss’s face.

‘
This
better not be one of your pranks, Warvel! You’re causing a panic
out there.’

‘
Ah...’ Tren felt suddenly like laughing. Dark blood red! It
wouldn’t take much superstition to believe that the world was
ending. ‘Sorry, sir. It really wasn’t deliberate.’

Angstrun sighed.
‘Get out of the way.’

Tren scarpered
gladly enough. He hovered out of the range of the map as Lord
Angstrun fell into the working-trance. Whatever he did was
effective: the alarming red light drained steadily away until
normal Cloaked conditions returned. Tren allowed himself a small
sigh of relief.

‘
I’ll
say,’ Angstrun snapped, turning suddenly. ‘If you
weren’t such a damned good sorcerer I’d turf you out for that
without a second thought. What exactly was going on in there?’ He
jabbed a finger at Tren’s head.

‘
Um...’ Tren hesitated. He could hardly explain, not without
making himself look like even more of an idiot. ‘I don’t know,
sir,’ he said lamely.

Angstrun rolled
his eyes. ‘Right. How long is it since you took some time
off?’

‘
A
while, my lord.’

‘
I
think you’d better do that, don’t you? I’ll schedule you out of the
roster for the next seven days. Go rest up.’

‘
Thank you, sir. And um, sorry.’ Tren exited quickly, before
Angstrun could change his mind and decide to flay him or
something.

He wasn’t quick
enough. ‘Warvel.’

Tren turned
back, heart pounding. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘
Couldn’t you have chosen a slightly less...
doom-ridden
colour? Did it have to be
blood
red
?'

‘
I
fully concur that I could have chosen better, sir.’ He paused,
hazarded a joke. ‘Would your lordship care to recommend an
alternative?’

‘
No,
his lordship would not! Don’t let it happen again!’

‘
Yes,
sir.’

Tren was halfway
down the corridor when Angstrun called after him.

‘
Cerise, Warvel. Try cerise next time.’

Leximandra
Reports

Mr Trane Brysold
slammed a newspaper down onto the desk, with enough force to make
Leximandra jump.

‘
Have
you seen this?’ His voice was dangerously quiet.

‘
Er,
no, sir...’ Lexi’s words faltered. Marching across the front page
was a stark headline.

Lady Glostrum’s
New Flame

Lexi inched a
little closer to the desk, her heart sinking. The smaller print of
the article resolved itself before her apprehensive
eyes.

The
beautiful Lady Glostrum, ever the toast of Glour Society, was
recently seen on the arm of none other than Lord Vale, Chief
Investigator of the Realm. His Lordship has been heard to call his
relationship with the Her Ladyship the High Summoner “very close”.
Readers will remember Lady Glostrum’s recent interview with this
paper, in which she implied that matrimony is on her agenda for the
future. Has she selected Lord Vale as her future husband? We ask
our readers’ patience while we endeavour to discover more about
this exciting story.

Lexi swallowed.
She could feel Brysold’s fury even without looking at him. ‘I’m
sorry, sir. I tried my best, but it can be hard to...’

‘
Apparently our competitors do not find it at all difficult!
This is the third time this moon they have broken a story before
we’ve even heard a whisper of it. This, Miss Greyne, is
unacceptable.’

Lexi set her jaw
and lifted her chin, meeting her employer’s eye squarely. ‘I’ll do
better, sir, I promise.’

Brysold softened
slightly. ‘You’d better, Lexi, or the paper’s in
trouble.’

Lexi nodded.
‘What would you like me to do, sir?’

‘
I
need you to find out more about this story, urgently. We
must
get there before The Lady’s Daily.’

‘
But,
sir-’

‘
I
don’t care what you have to do, Lexi,’ Brysold interrupted her.
‘Get me something good!’

Lexi left
Brysold’s office feeling glum. Her boss was tough on her, but he
was the only person in Glour who’d been willing to employ a girl
without the traditional complement of limbs. Born with one arm
missing, Lexi hadn’t exactly been an attractive prospect to most of
Glour’s employers. Brysold had given her a chance: she couldn’t let
him down.

Besides, if the
paper closed then her job would vanish with it.

Leaving
Brysold’s office building, she stepped into a bustling street. The
moon was setting over Glour City: the wakeful hours were drawing to
a close, and the streets were full of citizens hurrying to finish
the day’s tasks, or on their way to evening entertainments. It took
Lexi some time to work her way from the fourteenth circle to the
fifth where Lady Glostrum’s house was situated.

It was one of
the richest areas of the city, and the house itself was fully
worthy of its station. Four storeys tall, it was a handsome
structure of fine grey stone, with enormous windows and an
exquisitely grand doorway. Lexi stood outside it for some time,
puzzling over her dilemma.

She was no good
at her job, not really. As a reporter, she was far too diffident,
too unsure of her welcome, too unwilling to pester. And pestering
was exactly what she must now do. She would have to be pushy,
refuse to be dismissed or discouraged, make a nuisance of herself.
Not for the first time she wished that someone other than Brysold
had been willing to give her a chance.

No matter. She
would do as she must. Lifting her chin, she stared down Lady
Glostrum’s house as if defying it to vanquish her. Then, with a
deep breath, she approached that imposing portal and rang the
bell.

After the
briefest of intervals the door sailed smoothly open to reveal an
elderly gentleman with terrific posture and the most perfect
uniform Lexi had ever seen.

‘
Er.
I’m here to see Lady Glostrum.’ Lexi lifted her chin and tried to
look confident.

‘
Is
her ladyship expecting you, miss?’ The butler’s voice was faintly
rusty, as if he hadn’t used it in some time.

‘
Er,
no,’ Lexi replied, her composure floundering. ‘Not exactly. I mean,
I’m here from The Society Week.’ The butler made no reply. ‘It’s a
newspaper,’ Lexi explained hopefully. ‘Weekly articles on all the
latest society news, with a fashion supplement once a
moon.’

‘
Her
ladyship is not at home,’ the butler replied.

Lexi didn’t
believe him. ‘Please. I really need to see her. My job depends on
it. I won’t anger her, I promise! I just want to ask her a few
questions.’

She thought she
detected a slight softening of the man’s features, but he remained
unmoved.

‘
Her
ladyship is not at home.’

‘
Not
even for five minutes?’

‘
If
you would care to leave your card, I will inform her ladyship that
you called.’

Lexi stared at
him helplessly. The likes of her didn’t carry calling cards! He
knew that, of course. Her hope faded and she stepped
back.

‘
All
right,’ she said tiredly. ‘Sorry to have bothered you.’ She trotted
back down the steps and into the street.

When she was
sure that the door had closed behind the butler, she stopped
walking and took her image-capture device from her shoulder bag. It
was a complex piece of machinery, brand new: its manufacturers were
calling it The Depictioner, and the name had already become a
byword among journalists. It was expensive. If she lost or damaged
it, Brysold would have her head.

She shook off
her short cape and sat cross-legged in the street. Balancing the
Depictioner on her knee, she used her one arm to wrap it up
carefully, binding it with ribbon. Surveying it critically, she had
to admit that it did not look that much like a special delivery.
But if she did not show it too closely to anyone, it would
pass.

Gathering her
resolution, she found her way around to the rear of the building
and knocked at the much less imposing servants’
entrance.

The rear door
was answered by an alarming young woman with a red face and a mass
of frizzled black hair.

‘
Yes?’ she snapped. Her eyes roamed over Lexi’s frame, and on
seeing her missing arm the woman - undoubtedly a kitchen maid -
sucked in a shocked breath.

Lexi felt
herself becoming stubborn. At least the butler had had the decency
to pretend he hadn’t noticed.

‘
I’ve
a delivery for her ladyship.’

‘
Hand
it over.’

Lexi stepped
back a little, snatching her parcel out of reach. ‘Boss says I’m to
deliver it into her ladyship’s own hands.’

‘
He
does, does he?’ The woman’s eyes narrowed. ‘Which delivery company
are you from?’

‘
Er...’ Lexi thought fast. ‘BPS. Brysold Parcel
Service.’

‘
Haven’t heard of it.’

‘
That’s because it’s new.’

The woman shook
her head. ‘I ‘aven’t got time for this, all right? Just hand it
over and be on your way.’

Lexi sucked in a
breath. She hated to do this, but... desperate measures were called
for.

She adopted her
pathetic face.

‘
Please ma’am,’ she said in a pitiful voice. ‘I’m new on the
job and Boss says if I get this one wrong I’m out. If that happens
I’m on the street. Boss says to follow his instructions to the
letter, or else.’

She was quite
good at looking pathetic, all told. It wasn’t a tall order. She
watched as the woman’s eyes travelled to her stump of an arm and
back to her face.

‘
Fine,’ she growled. ‘But make it quick. Stayne will conduct
you upstairs.’

Stayne? Who was
Stayne? She hoped it wasn’t the butler who had answered the front
door to her, or she was in trouble. She waited nervously as the
kitchen maid went out of the room. When the woman returned, she was
followed by a different man - younger, though wearing a similar
uniform to the butler’s. Probably a footman. Sighing inwardly in
relief, she tried to smile as Stayne approached, hoping to reassure
him that she wasn’t a threat.

Except I am, in a way.

Stayne merely
eyed her, then turned and beckoned to her. Lexi followed him
through the house and up an imposing staircase, trying to swallow
away her nerves.

‘
Are
you sure you can’t entrust it to me?’ said Stayne, sounding
bored.

Lexi shook her
head vehemently. ‘Can’t. Boss’d kill me if he found
out.’

‘
Fine. Make it quick, though. I’m on door duty for the next
half hour.’ He led her across the landing and stopped at a door
which stood slightly ajar. Lexi could hear the sound of voices
talking softly from the room beyond.

Stayne knocked
and waited. No reply came. He was about to knock a second time when
the front door bell rang.

Lexi hoped
Stayne would leave immediately, but he didn’t. ‘Hurry up,’ he said
coldly.

The bell rang
again, long and loudly.

‘
Someone’s in a hurry,’ she observed.

Stayne hovered
for a moment, frozen with indecision. When the bell rang a third
time, he made up his mind.

‘
Wait
here.’ He disappeared back downstairs, stepping smartly.

Lexi suffered a
moment’s indecision herself. How to proceed? Should she look around
the house, try to discover something interesting that way? Or
should she appeal to her ladyship’s kindness and ask for an
interview?