Leximandra Reports, and other tales (7 page)

'Let the little
beast sleep.'

Chapter One

The stone
polishing machine rattled its last and the barrel stopped spinning,
its cycle complete. Opening it up, Llandry slipped a deft hand
inside and extracted a few of the gems. They lay in the palm of her
hand, glittering darkly indigo under the light-globes that hovered
over her head. Smooth and perfect, they were quite ready for
use.

She never cut
the istore stones. It seemed wrong, somehow, to break these perfect
jewels into pieces, so she merely gave them a day or two in the
polisher to bring up the brilliancy of the surface. It was a
pleasing test of her ingenuity as a jeweller to find ways to set
them as they were.

She selected one
of the smaller pieces, tucking the rest away in the top drawer of
her work table. A setting was already prepared for this one, a
large, handsome ring designed for a man to wear. Wrought from
silver, her favourite metal, she had lightly engraved it with a
pattern of tiny stars. This motif echoed the tiny points of light
that winked in the depths of the stone.

In fact, Llandry
had named it for the stars. She had discovered the gem by accident,
walking one day under the glissenwol trees with Sigwide darting
ahead. Thoughts lost in daydreams, she had drifted away from their
usual route. Her reverie had been suddenly interrupted by the
sensation of falling as she tumbled down a hole hidden beneath the
bracken. The hard earthen walls of the underground grotto sparkled
ferociously in the thin light beaming down from above. The gems
fell easily into her hands when she touched them, shining like
shards of night fallen from the skies. She had taken to calling
them "istore", after the Old Glinnish word for star.

Not that she was
particularly familiar with the night sky. The permanent sun of the
Dayland Realms hid the stars from her sight, and the moon only
occasionally appeared as a pale and feeble disc in the heavens.
Therein lay the nature of her fascination, perhaps. Llandry picked
up her lapidary tools and bent over the ring, carefully and
skilfully working the gem into its setting. Intent on her task, she
barely noticed the faint scratching of Sigwide's feet on the wooden
floor as he wandered in. She distantly sensed an air of speculation
about him as he paused before the table, haunches bunched to jump.
But no: he knew better than to disturb her when she was working. He
pattered off again, finding the blanketed basket she left for him
on the other side of the room.

'Just a few more
minutes, Siggy,' she murmured without looking up. He grumbled in
reply, sending her a plaintive series of impressions: hunger,
emptiness, imminent starvation. She stifled a laugh.

'In theory, Sig,
you are a wild animal. A feral beast, part of brutal, brilliant
nature. You could go forth and forage for your own food. In
theory.'

Sigwide ignored
her. His claws scrabbled on the wicker as he turned in his basket,
curling up with an offended air.

'All right,
fine. Food.' She put down her tools and wrapped up the ring and the
precious gem in soft cloth, unwilling to leave them lying abandoned
on the table. Sigwide jumped joyfully out of his basket and wove
his thin grey body around her feet, beating her to the door. She
stepped over him with the nimbleness of long practice,
chuckling.

Sigwide's
favourite food was a complex, carefully balanced mixture of dried
bilberries, fresh rosehips, assorted nuts and a scattering of
pungent mushrooms. He was completely spoiled, dining like a king on
this rather expensive mixture every day, but she didn't begrudge
him his luxuries. He had been her faithful companion - her only
reliable friend, other than her parents - for the last eleven
years. He ought to be slowing down now that age was catching up
with him, but so far he had never lost his inexhaustible
energy.

Llandry leaned
against the kitchen table, watching him eat. She tried to keep her
thoughts focused on Sigwide, but as usual her mind betrayed her.
Tendrils of nerves snaked through her belly and began to grip,
clutching hard. She hadn't wanted to stop working because as long
as she was fully occupied, she was safe from apprehension. Now,
though, her treacherous thoughts turned to tomorrow.
Tomorrow
.

It had been her
mother's idea to take the istore jewellery to the market. Ynara
thought it would be popular. Doubtless she was right; the istore
never failed to interest and attract those who saw it. Short of the
money to cover the rent on her small, but pleasant tree, Llandry
had allowed herself to be persuaded about the market; after all, it
was preferable to having to ask her parents for help.

She had begun to
regret it immediately. She was to have her own stall at the next
Darklands market, which was held every full moon in Glour. It was a
popular event attracting thousands of shoppers, which of course was
why it was so suitable a venue for her glorious new jewellery. That
fact also made it a prospect of pure terror for Llandry. Thousands
of people pushing and shoving and jostling each other, staring at
her jewellery, her stall, her face. She would have to talk to some
of them. Talk, comfortably and persuasively, to a succession of
complete strangers. The only saving grace about this hideous
prospect was the opportunity to stand for a while under the stars
and the light of the full moon. It was not nearly enough to balance
out her fear.

Feeling the
tell-tale tingling sensation beginning to creep up her arms,
Llandry tried to pull back her thoughts. She walked about the room
briskly, swinging her arms. It was no use. Within minutes her
fingers had cramped and curled with tension and her whole body was
tingling uncomfortably. Soon afterwards she began to shake
uncontrollably, hyperventilating, growing dizzy and faint. She sat
down with her head between her knees, trying to breathe deeply.
Sigwide abandoned his repast and trotted over to her, thrusting his
nose against her legs.

'I'll b-be fine,
Sig. Just... give me a moment.' At length the dizziness faded and
her shaking eased. She stood up carefully, stretched and shook her
befogged head. Her face was wet with tears; these attacks always
left her feeling intolerably shamed and humbled. She patted her
face dry on her sleeve, then picked up Sigwide. It comforted her to
have him close for a time afterwards, the warmth of his little body
soothing the vestiges of her fear.

'Why did I agree
to this, Siggy?' She sighed. Hidden in her top kitchen cupboard
rested a bottle of dark brown glass, containing a rather repulsive
mixture her mother had purchased from one of Glinnery's foremost
herbalists. It tasted revolting, but it was effective. She took a
small measure of the stuff, welcoming the feeling of lassitude that
gradually swept over her afterwards. She would just have to keep
herself dosed up on it until the market was over.

Furthermore, her
mother had offered to accompany her. Llandry had refused, wanting
to prove - to herself, more than anyone else - that she could
manage it alone. Now she felt differently. Dosed or not, she knew
she would be suffering more of these attacks on the morrow. She was
going to need her mother's help. She slid her feet into her boots,
lacing them up tightly, and placed Sigwide into the carry-case she
slung over her hip. Locking her tree, she launched herself into the
air, letting her strong wings carry her in the direction of her
parents' residence.

***

'Oh, love. It's
nothing to be ashamed of.' Llandry stood in the circle of her
mother's arms, inhaling her familiar, comforting scent. Ynara held
her for some time, rocking her gently the way she had done since
her daughter was a small girl. Then she seated her firmly at the
table and plied her with food. Somehow her mamma always seemed to
have Llandry's favourites on hand: fragrant white alberry tea with
a pinch of freyshur spice, a bowl of creamed mushroom soup and a
plate of tiny berry cakes appeared before Llandry in quick
succession. She didn't feel inclined to eat, but she forced down a
few spoonfuls of the soup, unwilling to disappoint her mother. As
always, the food began to make her feel better and she ate with a
little more enthusiasm.

Ynara sat down
opposite her and took a cake, breaking it into small pieces and
eating them elegantly with her fingers. She watched Llandry
affectionately, her expression soft. 'You know, Pa would come as
well, if we asked him.'

Llandry shook
her head. 'Bad enough that I have to drag you along, Ma. Pa's
busy.' Pa, an engineer and inventor from Irbel, was always busy. He
was remarkably good at his job and was high up in Glinnery's
well-regulated guild of Irbellian expatriate engineers. Llandry's
parents had always lived comfortably, even after Ynara had given up
her position as an Enchanter to join the somewhat less well-paid
Council of Elders.

Ynara wrinkled
her delicate nose and smiled. Even such an inelegant gesture did
nothing to dampen her remarkable beauty. She did very little to
encourage it: her tumbling black hair was often a little
disordered, and she often wandered absent-mindedly about in clothes
dotted with the stains left by her regular adventures in cooking.
None of it mattered a bit. Llandry often felt something of a crow
beside her magnetic mother, though this was a feeling she
ruthlessly stifled whenever it threatened to emerge.

'Just you and I,
then, love. It'll be like the old days. Do you remember when we
used to visit the Darklands Market when you were a
child?'

Of course
Llandry remembered. Shy even then, the bustling market had unnerved
her, but she had clung to her mother's hand and felt reassured.
Ynara used to go regularly in search of some of the rarer
ingredients she used to create her edible delicacies. There were
several fruits, grasses and mushrooms that would only grow under
the endless night of the Darklands, and all of them were abundantly
available at the Darklands Market. Mamma would buy new gems for
Llandry's collection each time they went, and return home laden
with packets of unidentifiable objects for Aysun. Llandry had
always enjoyed this quality time alone with her mother. She smiled,
now, trying to weld that idea into her mind in place of her extreme
trepidation.

'Thanks, Ma,'
she said at last. 'I'd better go and finish up that ring. It's the
last piece for tomorrow.'

Ynara kissed her
cheek and gave her a brief hug. 'I'll be with you early in the
morning, love. I'll bring breakfast.'

Llandry made
herself smile again and waved, trying to suppress the forlorn
feeling she always suffered whenever she flew away from her
mother's house.

Chapter Two

Her carriage may
be the best that money could buy, but Lady Evastany Glostrum was
still lamentably cold. The chill seeped through the plush
upholstery inside the vehicle, nimbly evaded the best attempts of
the fitted glass windows to keep it out, and assaulted Eva's pale
and shrinking flesh in spite of her heavy fur wrap. It was really
too detestably cold to step beyond the door of her handsome and
thoroughly comfortable house, but today's errand was too important
to be missed. She was on her way to see her tailor.

Naturally she
had wardrobes full of delightfully sumptuous gowns, but this was
different. Something of an emergency, in fact. In a week she was to
give a ball at her own house, at which she would be announcing her
engagement. Such a momentous event in Glour society called for very
careful treatment indeed. Eva knew she would be subjected to the
closest scrutiny. The gossips and the reporters would be there in
approximately equal measures, ready to tear apart every aspect of
her appearance, her house, her entertaining. Most of all, they
would be examining her behaviour towards her fiance. The
speculation had been running high for weeks - would the elusive
Lady Glostrum finally fall to matrimony? - and she had allowed for
a rumour to leak out about the purpose of the ball. It was
imperative that she was looking at her best.

That being the
case, it was of course inevitable that the gown she had had made
for the day had been ruined. One of her maids had managed to stain
it with furniture polish while cleaning Eva's dressing room. She
hadn't scolded the girl - the maid had been devastated enough - but
nonetheless this created an unwelcome problem. As High Summoner,
Eva was in the middle of interviewing candidates for two
high-ranked positions within the Summoner organisation. She didn't
really have the time for any more complications.

Her carriage
came to a stop and Eva drew back the curtain that covered the
freezing glass window. Her coachman opened the door for her and she
stepped out with a smile, pulling her wrap as close around her
shoulders as possible. She stepped quickly into the tailor's shop,
shuddering with cold. Baynson was in the back, but he came running
quickly enough when she rang the bell.

'Good morning,
Mr Baynson. I'm afraid there's been a small incident regarding the
gown I purchased last week, and I'll be needing another. Before the
ball.' She didn't smile. Baynson wasn't the type to appreciate it.
He regarded her with an air of grave disapproval as she delivered
this piece of bad news, his thin eyebrows careening up his face
towards his nearly bald head.