Lokant

by Charlotte E. English

  ‘I am not nearly so much fun when I am unwilling, my lord ambassador.’ She met his eyes, willing him to let the matter go.

  He struggled. His was a strong will, almost a match for her.

  ‘I’ve never made a proposal of marriage before,’ he hissed. ‘Your refusal humiliates me.’

  ‘Nobody needs to know, Brun.’

  He thought about that. For a horrible instant she thought he would overthrow her efforts to influence him and proceed with his absurd proposal. Then what? Physically, he was much stronger. If he truly wished to detain her, he could do it.

  To her relief he nodded, slowly, his black eyes registering regret.

  ‘True. Though I wish you would reconsider.’ He kissed her briefly. ‘I’ve a lot to give. Power, wealth, status. Influence.’ He began nibbling at her neck.

  ‘I have all those things already.’

  He groaned. ‘An unbribable woman. Such a thing should be an impossibility.’

  She had to grin at that.

  ‘All right,’ he sighed. ‘Go, then.’ He stepped back. Relieved, she put a few feet of space between them at once. The change from attractive to threatening had been unsettlingly swift in him.

  ‘The address first, my lord.’

  He rolled his eyes. ‘Relentless female. Here. Now go away.’

  She took the folded piece of paper he thrust at her, tucking it into the pocket of her skirt. With a curtsey and a mischievous smile for the ambassador, she followed his command most willingly.

  As she pulled the door shut behind her, she heard the distinctive sound of a glass object hitting the wall.

  Tren was waiting for her downstairs. He took one look at her and was on his feet immediately.

  ‘Trouble?’

  She shook her head. ‘All’s well, but I think we should leave without delay.’

  ‘Right.’ He took her arm and led her to the front door. As they stepped through it, Eva felt a sudden conviction that Recender was watching their departure. But when she glanced behind her at the darkened staircase, she saw nobody.

  Eva opened Recender’s note with some trepidation. Two possibilities occurred to her worried mind. One, that the ambassador had been bluffing, and the paper would be blank. Or two, that the address written there would be for the same warehouse she and Tren had already explored, with so little success.

  She was relieved to find that neither was the case. The property listed was almost on the opposite side of Wirllen, and it didn’t look like it denoted any kind of warehouse. She sent a brief, private note of thanks to Brun. He might have been a pain in the rear in the end, but he had resolved her problem anyway.

  She wondered briefly whether he had seriously wished to marry her. That thought made her snort with involuntary laughter. There were reasons the man had never proposed to anybody before. He was far too committed to his roving bachelor existence to consider such a thing. Aside from being absolutely unweddable.

  What the experience did suggest, however, was that she needed a little more practice at controlling her ability to influence the will of others. While there were dangers with applying too little willpower to the target, there were certainly dangers attached to applying too much also.

  ‘What are you laughing at?’ Tren craned his neck around, trying to see what was written on the paper.

  ‘Nothing, really. Recender said some, uhm, amusing things. Here.’ She handed the note across. Tren read it in silence.

  ‘Well?’ she said after a moment.

  ‘Oh, great I suppose. But how are we planning to do this?’

  She frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘We’re not just going to march in there, are we? I mean, we aren’t particularly well equipped to handle much of a threat between the two of us. Supposing we encounter anything dangerous.’

  She shrugged. ‘We’ll be fine. Byllant appears to be an enterprising engineer, not a criminal.’

  ‘Have to disagree there. He’s distributing draykon bone technologies, which according to recent rulings by all the governments of the Seven - including Ullarn’s - is illegal. Those draykon bones should have been turned in for research and safekeeping, not sold for profit.’

  ‘You weren’t concerned about that when we went to the warehouse.’

  ‘Well, I should have been. I wasn’t thinking too clearly at the time.’

  ‘All right, I suppose you have a point. Do you have any ideas?’

  ‘Er. I was thinking, maybe, we could hire someone?’

  ‘Someone who?’

  ‘Someone with a nice, sizeable sharp object. Or possibly a firearm.’

  She grinned at that. ‘Lovely thinking, but I don’t happen to know any of those. Do you?’

  He shifted uncomfortably. ‘I thought you might have some brilliant idea about where to go for that.’

  ‘Not in Ullarn, I’m afraid. We’ll be careful, all right? Anyway, we are not entirely defenceless. We have a quick and oh-so-handy escape route.’ She pointed to herself.

  Tren merely grunted, unimpressed.

  Eva gave the instructions to her hired coachman and allowed herself to be handed into the carriage by Tren.

  ‘It’ll be a bit of a drive,’ she said, settling back against the cushions. ‘Perfect opportunity for a nap.’ With that, she closed her eyes.

  She heard Tren sigh as he slumped into the seat opposite her.

  When the carriage finally pulled up, Eva’s first thought was that they’d been brought to the wrong place.

  The street in which they stopped was obviously a residential area. The houses were small, even cramped; many of them were only one-storey. She couldn’t imagine there were more than three or four rooms inside.

  Tren shrugged at her questioning look. ‘Might be Byllant’s home address?’

  ‘True. I suppose I just assumed that it would be a factory or an office.’ She shook out her crumpled skirts, glancing up and down the street. It was late, already well into the middle of the evening, and the street was quiet. ‘How do you suppose we should proceed?’

  ‘Knocking on the door is usually considered a good start.’ Tren shrugged back into his jacket, his long fingers making short work of the buttons.

  ‘Just knock on the door?’

  ‘Why not? We’re planning to ask him some questions, I thought, not arrest him. And the encounter’s more likely to be civilised if we start by being polite.’

  ‘All right.’ She took the arm that he offered and they crossed the street. All the shutters in Byllant’s house were closed, and no gleam of light suggested the presence of an inhabitant.

  After all the trouble it had taken to find this place, it would be terribly inconvenient if the man wasn’t even home.

  A light tap on the door brought no answer. She knocked again, more loudly. Nothing.

  ‘Let’s try the back,’ said Tren. Eva followed him down the side of the house to the small walled yard at the back. To her extreme distaste, Byllant’s garden was full of mud.

  ‘Next time, remind me to change my gown first.’

  Tren chuckled. ‘I thought we were in a terrible hurry?’

  ‘That may be true,’ she said with dignity, ‘but there is very little in this world that is worth the sacrifice of a favourite gown.’

  ‘Your faithful factotum ought to have been prepared for that.’

  ‘Yes, he should have been. Why weren’t you, Tren?’

  He swept her a deep bow of apology. ‘I can only beg your forgiveness, my lady. I am unworthy.’

  She sniffed. ‘Amends to be made later. You can do the knocking this time.’

  Tren obliged, pounding on the door loudly enough to wake the dead.

  ‘That might have been excessive.’

  ‘One merely does as her ladyship commands.’

  Nothing moved within. Eva noticed Tren eyeing the door speculatively.

  ‘Forget it. You are not kicking it in.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because you’d bring the wh
ole neighbourhood down on us.’

  ‘Then I cede the floor to your ladyship. Any other ideas?’

  ‘One. Keep close to me.’ She reached out to find Tren’s arm in the darkness. Instead of taking his wrist, she took his hand and laced her fingers through his.

  ‘Er, what -’

  She was getting faster at translocation. Within seconds they stood on the other side of the little house’s rear door.

  Tren stared at her. ‘I still think that’s creepy.’

  ‘Quiet.’ She stood for a moment, listening. If Byllant was home, he was a master at keeping silent.

  Or maybe he was just sleeping.

  ‘We’re exploring,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Stay close.’

  ‘I can’t go anywhere anyway.’ On her giving him a questioning look he added, ‘You still have hold of my hand.’

  ‘So I do.’ She quickly disentangled her fingers from his.

  ‘That wasn’t an invitation to go away.’

  ‘Shhh.’ Some slight sound had reached her ears. From Tren’s sudden tension she guessed he’d heard it too. Maybe somebody was home after all.

  A light-globe went on in the next room.

  ‘Who’s there?’ The voice was deep and rich, definitely male.

  ‘Mr Byllant?’ Eva made to step forward, but Tren put out an arm to hold her back. He took the lead, advancing warily into the small living room.

  A tall figure stood in the middle of the room with the light at his back, leaving him largely in shadow. He wore dark clothes to help that effect along, and his face was partially covered.

  ‘Who are you?’ he demanded.

  ‘No danger to you,’ she assured him. ‘At least, not yet. We must ask you some questions.’

  ‘How did you get in?’

  ‘We knocked. When there was no reply, we took a more direct method.’ The man had made no move to attack; Eva stepped out from behind Tren, gently pushing his arm out of her way.

  Byllant’s eyes were black in the darkness and shadowed, but she could see that he studied her. His gaze was fixed on her hair. Then he stepped into the light, pushing back the scarf that hid his features. He had Darklander-pale skin, hazel eyes and chestnut hair tied back. His smile was confident and charming.

  Eva knew that face. Last time she’d seen him he had been in a state of very ill health, his face wan and dark shadows marking his skin. But it was unmistakeably the same man.

  ‘Devary Kant?’

  Tren looked sharply at her. ‘What? You know him?’

  ‘We’ve met, once. At Ynara Sanfaer’s house.’ Eva stared at Yna’s friend, completely confused. ‘Are you Byllant?’

  ‘I don’t know who you mean,’ Devary replied with another of his charming smiles. ‘Perhaps you’ve come to the wrong place?’

  ‘I doubt that. Getting Byllant’s address wasn’t easy. Finding you here, Mr Kant, is a pretty big coincidence, don’t you think?’

  ‘Coincidences happen sometimes.’

  Eva shook her head. She didn’t want to believe that a friend of Yna’s would betray her this way, but Kant’s protests made no sense. How could he possibly just happen to be here, in a house registered to Byllant?

  ‘I’m sorry you’ve come all this way for nothing,’ Kant continued. ‘Can I offer you some refreshment before you leave?’

  Eva’s brow contracted. She hadn’t had much conversation with Devary Kant before, but she remembered that he spoke with a hint of a Nimdren accent. It had been attractive. He was speaking her own language now, but without any trace of Nimdren inflection. Had he merely adopted the accent before, or was he disguising it now? If anything, his new intonation was Ullarni.

  She nudged Rikbeek with her thoughts, surreptitiously shaking him out of the folds of her skirt. Silently, ignoring his protests, she directed his attention towards the man who claimed to be Devary Kant. The gwaystrel applied his unique senses to the task, building an image of the man that had nothing to do with his physical appearance.

  ‘Thanks, but we can’t stay,’ she said in the meantime, praying that Devary wouldn’t notice the black-winged gwaystrel in the darkness. ‘Perhaps you can help us, though. Have you ever heard the name Iro Byllant before?’

  She wanted him to speak again, but he merely shook his head.

  ‘Never? He isn’t a neighbour, perhaps, or a previous tenant of this property?’

  ‘I’m so sorry to disappoint you, but I’ve never heard of him. Now, if we’ve finished?’ He moved towards the door.

  Eva sucked in a breath. She knew that voice. Rich and mellow, like honey. Where had she heard it?

  Rikbeek was filling in a new image of the man. Taller than he appeared, bigger across the shoulders, his nose, ears and hands a different shape... his hair pale.

  Pale. The words of the Lawch & Son clerk came back to her. Your hair colour, ma’am.

  Tren figured it out first. ‘I don’t know a Devary Kant, but you sound a lot like Griel Ruart to me.’

  Griel! Of course. His was a distinctive voice, and in her mind’s eye she recognised the partial image Rikbeek was building. This was Ana’s sorcerer husband, no doubt about it. But that made no sense. Last time she had seen him, he’d almost been bitten in two by the draykon she now knew as Pensould. His wife had taken his corpse away, but she would never have expected that he could be healed. Not even by Lokants.

  Kant’s face twisted in disgust. ‘I can never get the voices right.’ The handsome face of Devary Kant faded, revealing the flatter features, broader figure and white hair of Griel Ruart.

  ‘So. You two keep turning up. You were not much use last time. What do you want now?’

  Eva shook her head in disbelief. ‘Last time, you were somewhat more polite. How are you not dead?’

  ‘That’s none of your business. Are you here from him? Perhaps you were working for him from the beginning.’ Griel’s manner was hostile, his posture tense, ready to attack. Eva recognised fear in his eyes.

  ‘Him? You mean Krays, I suppose.’

  The fear sharpened. ‘Then you are working for him. What do you want?’

  Eva decided not to undeceive him just yet. ‘You remember the name of Lawch & Son, I imagine?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘A light-globe manufacturer in Orstwych. You supplied them with a new design utilising draykon bone.’

  Griel lifted his chin, defiant. ‘And?’

  ‘By that I conclude that you are indeed Iro Byllant. Lawch & Son aren’t your only customers, are they?’

  He laughed. ‘Course not. I have dozens of designs out there. It’s lucrative.’

  Tren cut in. ‘Where are you getting the bone?’

  ‘Ah, well. Somewhere I shouldn’t. Hence my dismay at finding a white-hair at my door. Though I can’t figure out what your part in all this is. Krays doesn’t usually pair partials with humans.’

  ‘We’re not part of Krays’s organisation.’

  ‘Is that the truth?’

  ‘If we were sent by Krays, I’ve a feeling we wouldn’t be standing here holding a civilised conversation with you.’

  ‘Horribly true.’ Some of the tension went out of the sorcerer’s body, and the suspicion in his face relaxed a little. ‘But then, what are you here for?’

  Eva smiled. ‘Actually we’re trying to find out what Krays is up to.’

  His head tilted. ‘Why?’

  She exchanged a brief look with Tren. How much to tell him? She read caution in his eyes and she silently agreed. Best to keep it simple.

  ‘You remember Llandry Sanfaer,’ she replied. ‘Krays has been after her. We want to know why.’

  ‘Oh, he would be.’ He stepped closer suddenly, his dark eyes intense. ‘Make sure he never finds her.’

  ‘We’re doing our best.’ She took a breath and gambled, risking everything on the pure hatred she read in Griel’s eyes when Krays was mentioned. ‘Can you help us? What can you tell us about him?’

  Griel said nothing. He turned and paced away to the
other side of the room, apparently thinking. Her eyes narrowed as she watched him. She saw what Ocherly had meant: his movement was off in some subtle way. Not as if he was injured, exactly, just not quite natural.

  ‘You want to know what he’s up to? I’ll show you.’ Griel stood before them again. His hand moved, fast; he held a long knife, the blade glinting in the half-light.

  Tren gave a startled cry and pulled her back, out of reach of the weapon. But Griel made no move to threaten either of them. He pulled off his heavy black coat and rolled up one sleeve of his dark shirt.

  The knife slashed downwards. A long wound opened in his arm, the flesh cleaved to the bone.

  ‘What - what -’ She could only gasp the word, too shocked to think clearly.

  ‘Here,’ Griel said through gritted teeth, holding out his bleeding limb. The light-globe brightened, drifting down to hover just over the man’s arm.

  Eva steeled herself and looked closer, expecting to see the white gleam of bone.

  A flash of silvered indigo caught her eye instead.

  Tren uttered a choked curse. ‘Is that... that can’t be.’

  ‘Draykon bone? That’s exactly what it is. I almost lost this arm. I did lose it. When I woke up, I felt changed. Wrong. This arm, my leg -’ he slapped his left leg as he spoke ‘-some of my ribs, my hand. All rebuilt. My bones replaced, my flesh regrown... I’m part of a wider programme.’

  Eva swallowed. ‘What programme?’

  ‘Krays is looking for the limits of the draykon bone’s advantages. So far he hasn’t found any. He’s building devices, crossing technology with magic, creating terrifyingly powerful things. And he’s playing with biology, building animals and humans with machine parts, with draykon parts. Like he’s trying to build his own hybrids. The next step must be to combine everything. Imagine machines with all the biological advantages of the strongest animals and the cleverest humans, and wielding draykon magic. Krays did this to me to find out if it would take. Whether an intelligent being could be made to function this way.’

  A shudder ran down Eva’s back as she listened. What kind of madness was this?