Lokant (11 page)

She followed as
Pensould led her with unwavering confidence back to the place where
he had once rested, his blue-green scales gleaming in the bright
sun. For herself, she barely recognised it; there was nothing to
draw her back to the place as for Pensould, and she supposed she
had been somewhat distracted the last time she had been here. He
circled the location a few times, gliding effortlessly close to the
ground.

I sense nothing,
he communicated to her at last. She didn’t recognise the language
he used when he spoke to her this way – if indeed he was using
anything that could classify as a language at all. But she always
understood what he said.

There was something
here,
he continued.
I know it. How can it be gone?

Perhaps you
misremembered,
she suggested diffidently.
It was a confusing
time.

I was not
mistaken.
He said it with unanswerable finality.

Llandry hazarded
nothing further, merely waited while he made up his mind.

We will go to the
west, as we did before.
Pensould dipped his wings and soared
westwards, and she followed. West indeed they had gone after her
startling transformation; west a long way and still west, until
they were so deep into the Realm of Iskyr they seemed to have left
the human world far behind. Out there, Llandry felt the currents of
the world’s energy grow stronger, fiercer and more irresistible;
for some time she had steeped herself in them, happy to forget what
she had once been. Only after the thrill had finally ebbed a little
had her buried self-knowledge reasserted itself.

As she flew she
wondered, would it happen again? Would she lose herself in the
glorious strength of her new form, the energy she held at her beck
and call? She was mistress of this world, bending it to her will
with increasing ease as she grew more practiced. She and Pensould
amused themselves by reforming the lands they flew over, creating
tableaus for each other. For him she wrought a set of tiny draykons
out of mist, which danced in the air as he passed. For her he
reshaped all the flowers to resemble ortings that squeaked
greetings as she flew over them. Llandry felt Sigwide’s curiosity
and delight at the trick, and she had to steady him with her tail
to keep him from jumping off her back in his excitement. She could
so easily forget herself altogether with such wonders to occupy
her.

Then in the midst of
her enjoyment came a note of familiarity which tugged at her
consciousness. Somewhere below her walked somebody that she knew.
She thought immediately of her father, but no – he had been
deposited safely in Glinnery and it was impossible that he could
have beaten them here. Her grandfather, then? It didn’t feel like
him. She was not yet so adept as Pensould at identifying people
with senses other than her sight, but still she felt fairly sure
that it was not Rheas that wandered beneath the trees below.

She thought of ignoring
the tug; it might only be that her newly awakened draykon senses,
being untrained, were misleading her. But the tug of familiarity
nagged at her.

Stop,
she called
to Pensould.
Wait for me; I’ll return.
She circled and flew
back at speed, aiming unerringly for the source of the sensation.
Immediately she realised she had done this before in exactly this
fashion: allowed herself to be drawn by precisely this same beacon.
It was Devary who walked below.

It was not long since
she had sped to his rescue, newly transformed into her draykon
shape. She had felt his pain and fear increasing as she grew
closer, and on reaching him she’d found him badly injured and near
death. She sensed none of that now. Could it really be Dev,
wandering in the Uppers this far west? Surely he still lay at her
mother’s house, healing far too slowly.

She thought back. Her
mother had not said that he was well; she had only said
he did
not die.
She had thought it an odd phrase to use at the time,
but distracted by her father’s danger she had not enquired. In
fact, she had not even confirmed that he was still at Ynara’s
house. Nor had she thought to do so on her second visit.

Guilt hit her in a
rush, and she flew faster. Soon she could see him; her draykon
heart fluttered with recognition at the sight of that lanky figure
and its customary ranging gait, dark hair tied back out of his pale
face. He did not have his lyre with him, which was odd, but odder
still was his obvious glowing health. Expensive medical care
notwithstanding, injuries like his could not possibly have healed
less than a moon after the wounds were received.

Wary, she circled in
the skies. Perhaps it was an illusion; she could have brought it on
herself, the way she still sometimes inadvertently painted the
realm of Iskyr to resemble the comforting familiarity of Glinnery.
But he looked up, and when he saw her his face and posture
registered complete shock. Then he smiled.

‘
Llandry,’
he
called. His Nimdren accent produced a slight peculiarity in the way
he said her name. She had always liked to hear him say it. If he
was a figment of her imagination, surely he would not speak? She
landed carefully, not too close to him, and waited as he
approached.

‘Llandry, is that... is
that you? Truly?’

With a thought, she
shimmered back into her human form.

‘Really truly,’ she
smiled. There was a time when she’d been a little afraid of Devary,
with his handsomeness and his charming manner. She was pleased to
note that this was no longer the case.

She was less pleased
when she realised, with a sudden shock, that if anything he was
afraid of
her.
He stared at her looking somewhat wild about
the eyes, and he was slow to approach. A sudden lump rose in her
throat. Had her parents felt that way too?

‘I’m still me,’ she
said quietly.

He shook his head. ‘I
don’t think you are.’

Her smile trembled, but
she forced it to hold. ‘Dev. I’m so pleased to see you, and to see
you well, but... how? And what are you doing up here?’

‘Yes, I – I need to
explain some things to you. And I fear it must be done quickly,
before we are located.’

Llandry frowned,
puzzled. ‘Located? By who?’

‘My employers. Llan, I
was never fully honest with you and I’m sorry for it. But I feared
– I feared you would reject me if you knew.’

Llandry sensed his
anxiety and hurried to calm him. ‘Dev, I doubt anything you can
tell me would have that effect. You’re the first real friend I’ve
had, other than Mamma and Pa.’

‘And Sigwide,’ he said
with a small smile. The orting lifted his nose in Devary’s
direction in acknowledgement, and he chuckled.

‘I first met your
mother years ago – before you were born. But it was not an
accidental meeting. I was sent. As a very young man I was recruited
by an agency in Nimdre – based in Draetre, my home town – to gather
information. This organisation was attached to the university of
magic and technology. You remember our visit? Indren Druaster was
one of my earliest colleagues. The university studied the history
of magic and engineering; our task was to learn of the newest
discoveries and techniques made by the various scholars and
organisations of the Seven Realms.

‘My agency has been
troubled in the past by some of Irbel’s technological creations,
and they wanted information about Irbel’s recent inventions. But
you must know that infiltrating Irbel itself is extremely
difficult; they keep their developing technologies under close
watch. It was thought that a recent expatriate may be an easier
target: somebody who no longer lived under Irbel’s aura of secrecy
might be more easily persuaded to discuss their work.’

Devary sighed. His face
looked worn, even haggard, and his eyes were anxious as he looked
at her.

‘My task was to get
close to your mother, if I could, so that in turn I could become
acquainted with your father. He was then, as he is now, a talented
engineer; at the time he had only recently left Irbel. To his
credit, he never betrayed a word to me about the projects he had
been involved with back in Irbel. I learned nothing of use. But
your mother found out why I was there, and she... well, she was
very angry. As of course she had every right to be. That is why I
left Glinnery. We were only recently reconciled, and only then
because I was able to swear to her that I had distanced myself from
the agency. I was – I am – truly sorry about that betrayal. Your
mother’s friendship is deeply important to me.’

He paused, awaiting a
reaction, but Llandry was unable to give one. Her mind was too
busy, putting together all the little things that had puzzled her
about Devary. How he hinted at an old quarrel with her parents but
would never give her the details. She had overheard him telling
Ynara that he had been “sent” to learn more about the istore; an
assignment he had accepted in order to prevent a mysterious “they”
from sending someone less sympathetic. And he always carried
daggers – which he clearly knew how to use well - even though his
ostensible profession as a travelling musician offered no
justification for it. It all made a horrible amount of sense.

‘The worst part,’
Devary continued, and now he sounded as though it was truly hard
for him to speak, ‘is that my employers will not let me desert my
post at the agency. They still have a use for me, and they are able
to force me to perform it. My task this time is specifically you,
Llan. I don’t know what use they have for you but I don’t think it
can be good. I am telling you this now because you must be warned;
you need to take yourself far away, somewhere they can’t reach
you.’

Llandry remembered to
take a breath. Her stomach clenched in fear at his last words; it
was not long since she had last been hunted, hounded for the
draykon bone that only she knew how to find. But that was over; the
bones had all been found and taken. What possible use could she now
be to anyone?

‘Your employers,’ she
said at last. ‘Who are they? Why would they want me?’

Devary paled. ‘I
think... I have suspected for some time that the agency is not as
it once was. Perhaps it was never as I believed it to be. Some of
the people I have lately seen are not... they do not look Nimdren.
They speak Nimdren like natives but something about them is not
right. I don’t know who they are. Now, Llandry, there is nothing
more I can do for you. I wish it were not so but they are able to
do things no sorcerer can match and I am powerless against them.
You, though – as a draykon you may fare better, if you are warned.
Now, please, you must keep away from me.’

He started to back away
as he said this, as if he intended to put distance between the two
of them as quickly as possible. Llandry started to say something to
call him back – puzzled and alarmed by his revelations, she had
more to ask – but something pulled at her draykon senses and she
stopped. She felt the atmosphere warp and bend, a disturbance so
subtle she almost missed it. It was not like a sorcerer forcibly
pulling open a gate; it felt more like somebody inserting a blade
and deftly slicing a neat opening.

A presence came sliding
through it, a tall man with pale hair. Was it blonde or even paler
than that? His eyes were blue and very direct as they settled first
on Devary and then on Llandry.

‘Excellent work, Mr
Kant. I knew you would not disappoint us.’

If the child had been
better dressed, she could have passed for a miniature version of
Eva herself.

The girl was ten years
old and her hair was snow-white. She was quietly thoughtful,
slightly diffident in manner, and the only one of Angstrun’s
sorcery students who had shown any ability at summoning.

Lord Angstrun himself
stood, toweringly tall and as craggy as a corven, regarding the
girl with crossed arms and lowered brow.

‘So she’s good at
control, but otherwise she lacks the full spectrum.’

Eva nodded slowly,
speaking to Angstrun in a low tone. ‘I’ve rarely seen a child of
this age with so much ability to control a beast, but her
communication skills are minimal at best. And her methods are
unusual. Most summoners are less... direct. They feel the beast’s
needs and impressions and behave accordingly. It’s manipulative.
Susa’s approach is pure domination.’

The girl, Susa, looked
back at Eva placidly. She was diffident under Angstrun’s heavy
stare, but her demeanour hid a surprisingly firm will. When she had
turned it on the tiny wood meerel Eva had provided for her, the
timid creature had capitulated instantly. Susa had made the little
furred beast walk, sit and jump according to her command, and
apparently without it costing her much effort at all.

‘What I don’t
understand,’ Eva continued, ‘is how she came to be sent to your
department at all. With manipulation that strong, she should be in
summoner training.’

Angstrun shook his
head, apparently oblivious to Susa’s discomfort. ‘Early summoner
testing focuses on beast empathy, doesn’t it? She failed completely
at that. And her sorcery is excellent.’

‘True.’ Eva was silent
for a moment, still thinking. It made little sense for a summoner
to be so successful at animal control, but to entirely lack the
rest of the skillset. But none of her personal teaching and
encouragement had awakened any ability in Susa save her frightening
domination.

Eva, however, could
detect the meerel’s feelings about Susa. Opening her mind to the
tiny beast, she sensed none of the fear or resentment she might
have expected at the girl’s manner of control. On the contrary, the
meerel had developed a virtually instant devotion to Susa and
refused to be parted from her. Susa’s influence over it was
practically mesmeric.