Evastany

by Charlotte E. English

  Unfortunately for me, it worked like a charm.

  Gio’s face registered consternation — whether because he feared Ori was speaking the literal truth or because he feared he had somehow given offence, I do not know. I swallowed my urge to laugh, and tried my best to appear kindly instead. ‘I shall not unduly burden you, I promise,’ I assured Gio, with a conciliating smile.

  It occurred to me halfway through that my idea of conciliating might come across as vaguely motherly. And then I realised that, in Ori’s case at least, I am literally just about old enough to be his mother.

  I stopped smiling.

  Tren knows me far too well, and instantly guessed the reason for my abrupt alteration in manner. He was so unkind as to convulse with laughter, almost choking upon his meal in the process.

  I was tempted to extract some of the exquisite braised carrots from my plate and flick them at him, but I recollected in time that I am a woman of dignity and refrained.

  Gio spoke up. ‘Uh, my lady? What is it you would like me to teach, exactly?’

  First things first. ‘Ori has rather misled you, in using my full and proper title.’ I directed a quelling look at Ori as I said this, but he only twinkled at me and grinned, so I abandoned my attempts to encourage good behaviour.

  To Gio I said, ‘Please call me Eva.’

  His eyes widened, and he shook his head. ‘Oh, I could not.’

  Oh, dear. What did I do to the poor chap? I fear I may have inadvertently got up on my pedestal a little, and overawed poor Gio. The house and the furniture and the servants and the jewels probably do not help, either.

  Oh, well. If being nice does not work… ‘You must,’ I replied, ‘For I insist.’

  He blinked. ‘Oh… th-then of course.’

  I beamed. ‘Good. Well then, what I require is a trained Lokant, preferably a full-blooded specimen with the complete range of powers. We are gathering up partials with a variety of untrained abilities, you see, and they are in sore need of teaching. Most of them do not know what they are, and have no notion whatsoever of what they may do.’

  Gio swallowed. ‘Ah… I am not much of a teacher, ma’am.’

  Ma’am. Not Eva, but it was an advance upon my lady, so I let it pass. ‘You do not need to be greatly experienced at the art of teaching,’ I assured him. ‘I am sure you will do very well.’

  ‘The fact is,’ Tren put in, ‘you are the only candidate we have for the post. Easiest job interview ever.’

  Gio looked at Ori. It is quickly becoming clear to me that Ori is the driving force in that relationship, odd though that may seem. I do not know what Gio’s age might be; he looks more or less of an age with Ori, but being a Lokant, it is impossible to know. He is probably older, perhaps a great deal older, and he is undoubtedly powerful in his own right. But Ori’s charisma and exuberance tend to carry all before them, and Gio is curiously unsure of himself for a man in his position.

  Well, he has had a deplorable range of influences thus far in his life.

  ‘I will do my best, then, ma’am,’ said Gio.

  ‘Excellent.’ I paused to consider my options. I could give him time to get used to his first job before I broach the topic of the second, which might be both kind of me and politic. He does give the impression that he might be easily overwhelmed.

  On the other hand, perhaps it would be best to get it all out of the way at once. Brutal, but efficient.

  ‘I also need to regain access to a Library or two,’ I said, hoping that my casual tone would soften the impact of the request.

  Gio choked. Mightily.

  Ori handed him a glass of water, which Gio dispatched in three swallows. When he had finished spluttering, he stared at me in consternation. ‘You want access to a Library?’ he repeated. Then he bethought himself of a detail he had missed, and added, ‘More than one!’

  ‘Ideally. You see, Lokants are tricky folk, as I imagine you are aware. If one requires information, one cannot blithely go to a single Lokant, or just one Library, and expect to be given the full and accurate truth about anything whatsoever. One would do far better to consult multiple parties, compare their accounts, and do one’s best to extract whatever miserable morsels of truth from it that one can.’

  ‘Eva used to have access to Limbane’s Library,’ Tren said, probably to reassure poor Gio that I wasn’t talking complete nonsense.

  Gio’s brows went up. ‘As in, the coming-and-going variety?’

  ‘Everything.’

  Gio turned the raised eyebrow treatment upon me. ‘Used to?’ he echoed.

  I suppose it was fairly my turn to be put on the spot. ‘I relinquished it,’ I admitted, and permitted myself the faint hope that he would not enquire further.

  Hopes, dashed. The eyebrow, if possible, arched even higher. ‘Oh?’

  I drummed my fingers upon the table top, trying to think of a way of explaining my decision that wouldn’t make it sound as bad as it was.

  Oh, forget it.

  ‘I lost my temper.’

  At the other end of the table, Tren grinned, and tried to hide it behind a hastily-taken mouthful of food.

  ‘Limbane,’ I continued, ‘is a secretive, manipulative, cold-hearted sneak and I wanted nothing more to do with him.’

  ‘Those qualities aren’t all bad,’ Tren said. ‘Under the right circumstances they can be beneficial.’

  ‘They are perfectly acceptable when I engage in them,’ said I with a glower for my unhelpful fiancé. ‘I do not recall giving Limbane permission, however.’

  Tren beamed sunnily upon me and blew me a kiss, following which I was unable to maintain my gravity and began to laugh.

  Poor Gio looked hopelessly confused. ‘Limbane is no connection of mine,’ he warned me. ‘I cannot even get hold of him, necessarily, let alone persuade him into restoring your access to Estinor.’

  ‘Estinor?’ That word drew a blank.

  ‘He gave you access to the place but didn’t tell you its name?’ Gio looked incredulous.

  I threw down my napkin. ‘See, that is what I mean about secretive. Why would he tell me the name of his Library, if he had no particular means to gain by doing so? The most maddening man! And all the rest of them, the same! If they would only stop meddling in our poor worlds, I could go on peacefully ignoring Limbane forever. As it is, your blessed grandmother is up to no good and somebody needs to tell me what is going on.’

  Tren has developed a bad habit of acting as my voice of reason. It is no real consolation that I perform the same service for him. ‘Limbane is hardly likely to be the person to elucidate on that subject,’ he opined. ‘Even if he has any idea what Dwinal’s game is, which may or may not be likely.’

  ‘He is a place to start. The fact is, Tren my love, I am used to leaning upon Limbane’s soft parts until he does more or less what I want him to do. I would have to start from the beginning, with anybody else.’

  With which statement, I had the satisfaction of observing that I had made all three of the gentlemen uncomfortable, and applied myself to the remains of my dinner in peace.

  I left Gio to think that over for a day or two while I occupied myself with other concerns. I’d given him a spacious bedchamber on the third storey, directly next door to Ori’s. I wasn’t sure if their relationship had progressed to the point of sharing a bedroom yet, and decided to let them sort it out for themselves.

  Meanwhile, I had my two letters to reply to.

  One was from a woman in Orstwych, who introduced herself in terse terms as Heliandor Rasset. Thirty-three, unmarried, bank clerk by profession. White-haired since birth. Free to start training right away.

  I wrote to offer her a bursary on the spot.

  The second was from a Faronni Nallay, supposedly from Glour, though her name sounds Ullarni to me. Four-and-twenty, white hair, a painter. It was an artistic letter, all told, though light on actual information.

  No matter. I offered her a bursary, too, for we are not exactly overwhelmed with appl
icants.

  I also remembered someone else: a girl, about ten years old, currently enrolled at Glour City’s Sorcerer academy. Susa. She had been tested for Summoner ability some moons back, at my instigation, and failed — sort of.

  Let me explain something. For ages now, we have been habitually dividing human magical abilities into two categories. There’s Sorcery, which typically involves things like manipulation of light and shadow, illusions, glamours, gates through to the Off-Worlds, that kind of thing. And there is Summoning, my own former field of specialisation, which has more to do with animals — talking with them, working with them, controlling them and so on.

  It has taken until recently for us to learn that these things are all derived from the same ultimate source: draykoni heritage. I have a draykon ancestor back somewhere in my family tree, and so I am able to access some small, diluted aspect of their peculiar abilities. We have probably been in error to imagine that Summoning and Sorcery cannot co-exist in the same individual; after all, the draykoni can manage all of the above at once, and plenty more besides. But for whatever reason, those of us with minimal heritage tend to gravitate towards one group of abilities in particular, hence the labelling system.

  So, back to little Susa. As a sorceress, nobody expected her to have any ability as a summoner, and so it proved; except that she demonstrated herself capable of controlling beasts anyway, in ways that made no sense at the time. I have since learned what it means to have Lokant heritage, which is much rarer, and brings its own gifts (or burdens, depending upon one’s perspective and, frankly, upon one’s mood). Susa, with her white hair and her gift for domination of weaker beings, is of Lokant blood, so I am going to need to have her trained.

  It is interesting to note that the Lokant trait does not always breed out consistently. Neither one of my parents had white hair. I will check, but it is not especially likely that Susa’s parents are white-haired either. And what that seems to mean is that merely having Lokant blood somewhere in the ancestry is insufficient: if one carries the potential to wield their powers as well, it comes with the physical indicator of the prematurely pale plumage. (I realise that plumage is not precisely an accurate word to use here, but I was unable to resist the delicious alliteration of that sentence. My apologies).

  Anyway, I fear I have wandered from the point. The point is that Susa shall be our third student, and a class of only three will make a gentle beginning for poor Gio. So I rationalise away my disappointment at receiving so few applicants. I know that the white hair is rare, but it is not so rare as this, I think? I wonder what is deterring people from coming to us.

  8 IV

  I am not precisely sure why Llandry sent Ori to me.

  It is not that I object to his presence! Not at all! He is a dear boy and delightful to have around. But since the problem she set me is entirely Lokant-specific, I am not sure what to do with our Lord Draykon.

  I can well believe he was reluctant to be separated from Gio, and vice versa, which was probably reason enough. Llandry wishes to see both of them happy, I am sure of it, and would not lightly divide them.

  Nor would I. But while Gio is preparing himself to turn teacher, and indeed holding classes, what is poor Ori to do? He looks to me, blithely expecting that I shall produce a task for him at any moment — something worthy of his scintillating brain, something challenging.

  I, however, have not the faintest notion of what that might be.

  I am reluctant to admit it, for am I not supposed to be infallible? So I stalled by taking Ori with me when I went to see Angstrun.

  That’s Darae, Lord Angstrun, High Sorcerer of Glour and an old friend of mine. He was more than a friend, once, and that is the other reason why I wanted Ori with me. I will not admit to using the poor man as a human barrier between me and a former flame who is not so delighted with the former part, but if you want to draw that conclusion on your own, far be it from me to stop you.

  Taking Tren with me would serve the same purpose, of course, but the outcome might be fractionally different. I am too wise to risk it.

  I found Angstrun at the Sorcerer School, which fell in line nicely with my hopes. The circumstances were ideal: professional surroundings, the student I wanted to thieve conveniently close by, little chance of being shut up long with Angstrun. I wanted to give him as little as possible to object to about my request, and no time to find things to complain about. A precision operation, conducted with the utmost efficiency.

  It is not that Angstrun is especially hard work — or at least, not significantly more so than most men. But it is better not to leave things too much to chance, do you not agree?

  Of course, despite one’s best efforts it is still possible to be taken by surprise from time to time.

  ‘Lady Glostrum,’ said Angstrun politely when I entered his office, Ori in tow.

  ‘Darae,’ I responded. Formality be hanged. ‘This is Orillin Vance.’

  Ori made a casual bow. Angstrun sat in his favourite chair with his feet on the table, and did not trouble himself to move, merely inclining his head to my guest. I thought he would guess why we had come, but if he did, he gave no sign of it. He sat with an expectant expression, looking from me to Ori and back with a creditable appearance of mystification.

  ‘Is there a reason you have brought the Lord Draykon of the Daylands to see me?’ he enquired, when I did not immediately speak.

  ‘No, because I haven’t. We are here about Susa.’

  ‘Oh?’ said Angstrun. He folded his arms and grinned at me, looking pleased about something. Maliciously so.

  It isn’t that Angstrun objected all that much to my breaking off our largely casual arrangement. The problem is, I did so in order to marry one Lord Vale, a man rather older than myself, and thoroughly eligible. All the right everything, you know. But instead of following through with that unobjectionable plan, I fell in love with Tren.

  Tren is a former aide of Angstrun’s. If you were not already aware, he is also somewhat younger than both of us, untitled, and the owner of no property. If one were to view the matter in purely pragmatic terms, he has no equitable claim to marrying me, not by way of either fortune or status. In Angstrun’s opinion, I threw aside Angstrun and Vale in order to wed someone younger and more handsome than both of those two gentlemen put together.

  Well, if dear Darae can believe me to be so shallow as all that, I am not disposed to waste my life worrying over his good opinion.

  I crossed my own arms and gave him my best cold stare. If he would make me spell it out… ‘You must be aware of my endeavours by now. The new bureau proceeds apace, and we are ready to enrol students. I need you to release Susa to me, at least for part of each week.’

  Lord Angstrun blinked at me and his eyebrows went up. He looked, much to my displeasure, as though I had lost my mind. ‘What are you talking about?’

  A question which left me at a loss, for I could not have spoken more plainly. ‘Pray do not make difficulties, Angstrun. Tell me at once what the problem is, and I dare say it can be solved.’

  ‘The problem,’ said Angstrun slowly, ‘is that you have lost your wits. Or perhaps you are here to complicate my day, for some mischievous reason of your own. You must know that I referred Susa to you two days ago. Is she proving unsatisfactory? If you cannot manage her, I invite you to hand her back at your earliest convenience.’

  ‘I what?’ Now it was my turn to stare in disbelief, and to doubt whether I had heard correctly. ‘Why would you do such a thing?’

  ‘Because you requested it of me.’ Angstrun took his feet off the table and sat up, his sardonic expression fading in favour of more genuine puzzlement.

  ‘I?’ I echoed, a feeling of foreboding uncurling in my stomach. ‘I did no such thing, for I have come here today for precisely that purpose.’

  ‘Where did you send her?’ interjected Ori.

  ‘Nowhere, especially. She left with you.’ Angstrun was looking directly at me as he said that, and I cannot dou
bt that he spoke the truth. Aggravating as he can sometimes be, I acquit him of any likelihood to torment me by fabricating such an alarming story.

  ‘Darae,’ I said in a voice of forced calm, ‘The last time I was here was weeks ago. We have had no contact in all of that time, until today. Tell me at once what happened, please, and in detail.’

  Angstrun nodded. ‘What happened? You came in here just as you are doing right now, demanded that Susa attend upon you instantly for enrolment in your new school, and shortly afterwards left again, taking Susa with you.’

  Hmm. ‘How did I appear?’ I asked. ‘How did I behave?’

  ‘You were wearing a new gown,’ said Angstrun. He looked me over and added in a bland tone, ‘At least, one that I have never seen you wear before. I remember thinking that it became you very well, though it was a trifle more daring than you would normally wear outside of evening engagements.’ He made a vague gesture at his own torso, leaving me in no doubt as to his meaning. ‘You were imperious, too — more so than usual. I concluded you were displeased with me.’

  ‘I knew your name, I suppose? I understood who you are?’

  ‘You addressed me by name.’

  ‘As Darae?’ I pressed.

  Angstrun shook his head. ‘No, you called me “Lord Angstrun”. That is partly why I thought you were angered with me.’

  I could not tell if the prospect of my dissatisfaction with him had troubled him at all, or whether he merely dismissed the possibility with a shrug.

  Sideline. Focus. ‘That was not me,’ I reiterated. ‘Did this other me give you any clues as to where she might have been taking Susa?’

  ‘To your school,’ replied he. ‘That is what she said. Or you said.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘If that was not you, she was incredibly good at pretending to be so.’

  I read the direction of his thoughts easily enough, and could not help rolling my eyes in frustration. ‘We appear to have a child missing, Darae. Now is not the time for suspicion. I assure you, I am the real Evastany Glostrum.’