Evastany

by Charlotte E. English

  — Two hereditary draykoni with a wonderful attitude;

  — One Elder draykon with a terrible attitude;

  — One devastatingly handsome sorcerer;

  — One devastatingly handsome full-blood Lokant (I am sorry, Tren my love, but it is true);

  — One me;

  — One gaggle of incredibly poorly trained students;

  — One assistant with too many outfits and not enough organisation;

  — One Limbane, as dubious an advantage as he may be;

  — Probably some other things I am not remembering right now.

  (Do you see a pattern emerging here? I keep lists because otherwise I forget all sorts of things. I’ve been taking all my lists out of all my notebooks and pockets and studying them most carefully, so I hope I have not forgotten anything vital).

  There are some practical problems with application, of course. As Ori put it: If we propose to search the entire Library of Sulayn Phay, we are going to need some proper manpower. How are we supposed to sneak that many people in? How to explain our presence, besides? Trying to conduct an exhaustive search of a building that size without being detected could only be a hopeless prospect.

  ‘We need an unassailable, unobjectionable, completely justifiable reason to show up there in force’ I said, with a beatific smile. Tren, standing not far away, instantly gave me a suspicious look.

  From Ori, I was awarded a flat stare. ‘I am not understanding you. You don’t expect them to grant permission, surely?’

  ‘Asking permission is a fantastic way to give someone an opportunity to say no.’

  Ori’s eyes narrowed. ‘You have that face on again.’

  I immediately tried to make myself expressionless. ‘What face?’

  ‘The one that says: I have come up with a spectacularly daring idea which everyone will hate, and I am excessively pleased with myself.’

  ‘You won’t hate it!’

  ‘Are you sure.’

  ‘Perfectly! It is brilliant!’

  Tren stretched and rolled his shoulders, with the air of a man preparing for a bout of combat. Or in other words, a man preparing to take a beating. ‘Go on, then. Let us have it.’

  ‘We’re moving in.’

  There was silence, every moment of which I relished. All right, I was playing it for the drama, but who doesn’t get a thrill out of inspiring stupefying awe in their friends once in a while? No one!

  I let the silence stretch a little too long, and received notice of it from Tren by way of a faintly irritated look.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said, more or less genuinely. ‘Headquarters is becoming crowded, don’t you think? So many people to fit in, so much classroom space required, and I have all those new employees coming in soon. We are going to need more space.’

  ‘What new employees?’ Tren asked.

  ‘Um, the ones we will need in order to run the Bureau when… it’s bigger. And then there’s the flooding in the cellar which is most inconvenient—’

  ‘What flooding!’

  ‘The flood that happened when the pipes burst, or will happen when the pipes burst, which I feel is likely to occur very soon indeed. It may even spread to the ground floor. Wouldn’t that be terrible?’

  Tren nodded seriously. ‘These kinds of problems are fatal to the fortunes of any fledgling school. Our sponsor would be compelled to do something about it.’

  Ori folded his arms. ‘I take it you are not planning to write to Dwinal, lay these phantom problems before her and entreat her assistance.’

  ‘No, we will just move everybody back to the old schoolroom at the Library. But they aren’t phantom problems, Ori!’

  ‘HQ is not flooded.’

  ‘Not yet.’

  His eyes widened. ‘You propose to flood out your own building?’

  ‘I can’t have Dwinal popping down to check our tale and finding we’ve left a perfectly useable building behind.’

  ‘There has to be a better way.’

  ‘Can you think of one?’

  He struggled with that, but was obliged to give up the endeavour fairly quickly. ‘Ruthless!’ he gasped.

  In response to which accusation, I shrugged. ‘It is just a house. It can be repaired.’

  ‘Ruthless and reckless.’

  ‘Ruthless, reckless and wealthy. Money has to be of use at some point, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘Ruthless, reckless and rich,’ Tren murmured.

  I blinked, halted mid-flow. ‘What?’

  ‘It’s alliterative, that way. Sounds better.’ He smiled brightly at me.

  I kissed him, because it was better than slapping him. ‘If we are finished debating, shall we go?’

  Tren made an onward motion. ‘No time like the present!’

  We relayed this plan to Tynara and Dan last of all, of course. I might have subtly given them the impression that we had discussed it with Dwinal first, and received all due permission.

  I also flooded headquarters beforehand, so they could hardly argue against there being any need to move. Will it sound too strange to you if I admit that I rather enjoyed it? There is something satisfying about deliberately damaging things, especially of such size and grandeur as an entire building. This is probably why people find destruction cathartic. The pleasure is considerably enhanced if one is destroying something of one’s own, knowing that the means are at hand to mend it again at will. I broke the pipes — or actually, I ordered some other, stronger people to break the pipes — and then withdrew for a few hours. I returned just in time to watch the waters swirl up to the foot of the stairs and lap gently at the handsome and expensive carpets. It was beautiful.

  It occurs to me that this glimpse into my psyche is unlikely to do me very many favours with my readers, so I will move on.

  All in all, the relocation went well. Gio and I ferried everybody up to Sulayn Phay in groups, whereafter we sailed into the old schoolroom with the air of people who had every right to be there (which indeed, we did; that’s what made it so beautiful!) By the time word of our arrival spread as far as Dwinal, we were comfortably settled in.

  She swept in without warning, perhaps a few hours after we had installed ourselves in her facilities. I’d positioned Ori and Gio’s class at the front of the complex, and Dan and Tynara much further back. I wanted Dwinal talking to us first, not her own people.

  My two bright young men were instructing Susa, Fostiger and another woman in the differences between Lokant and draykoni methods of healing. It was a good topic to show off to Dwinal, and genuinely interesting besides; I considered it no hardship to officially sit in on it.

  As such, I was at hand when Dwinal arrived. The door swung open and she stared at all of us with a mighty frown, fixing at last upon me.

  ‘I thought you were to base your school at your own premises?’

  I smiled my most gracious smile, and did the necessary explaining. Gio supported every part of my story, though privately I wondered how much use it would be; did Dwinal really trust her grandson, or did she realise he was up to something?

  I do not think she fully believed either of us; it is in the nature of Lokants to be suspicious, I suppose. But she could muster no reasonable grounds upon which to throw us out, and I knew that she would find my story in order if she chose to check it. So I treated her graciously, and she treated us with suspicion, and at length she went away and left us to it.

  ‘We will have to be careful,’ I said later to my partners in subterfuge. ‘I think she realises there is more to our sudden reappearance than we’ve said, and of course she would rather we were minding our own business safely back in Glour than running around her Library.’

  ‘The flaw in the otherwise perfect plan,’ said Tren, with an apologetic sideways glance at me, ‘is that, with our presence here known, Dwinal and company will go to greater lengths to hide anything they do not wish to share with us.’

  I let pass this uncharitable reflection upon the brilliance of my plan, because it was
true and I could hardly deny it. ‘We will prevail,’ I said confidently.

  Gio had other concerns. ‘Eva, are you sure they are safe here?’

  ‘They who?’

  ‘The children.’

  ‘What children? There is only Susa.’

  He shrugged. ‘The students, then. I was glad, when we took them home. So were you.’

  ‘Desperate measures.’

  I shouldn’t have spoken flippantly, especially when I did not mean it. Gio looked dismayed, and troubled. ‘I think you underestimate my grandmother.’

  ‘We have them under careful watch, and constant protection,’ I reminded him more gently. ‘Anyway, none of us has been able to discover that anything untoward occurred to any of them at all, when they were here before. Dwinal’s methods of “inviting” people to her Library may have been suspect, but once they were here, all she seems to have done is have them taught the very subjects they wanted to study in the first place. There is no reason to feel that they are in any danger.’

  ‘Except that we still don’t know what she wants them for. Vague speculation only.’

  ‘True, but whatever they might be destined for, that is not to befall them until they are deemed to be graduates, and suitably talented ones at that. This is unlikely to happen for some time — if any of them meet Dwinal’s requirements at all.’

  I tried not to let Gio’s words infect my confidence. I believed every word that I spoke, but his concerns were not unreasonable, and they stayed with me as I went about the rest of my day. I resolved upon being doubly careful and triply observant.

  What I didn’t tell Gio, or anybody, was how many doubts I felt myself. I had been relieved to leave the place behind. When I spoke of desperate times, though, I spoke the truth. We cannot fully protect all the students and ourselves, and the draykoni I feel sure are held captive somewhere up here. If we are to have any hope of discovering the latter, we need a pretext to be up here for a while. This is the only one we have got; it will have to do.

  The problem of Nindrinat and her conspicuous absence from Gio’s room is another matter entirely. Gio has opted to follow the path of denial. No one has mentioned Nindrinat to him, and until someone does, he will not mention her to anybody else either.

  ‘If whoever left her there wants to know what became of her, they can come and ask me,’ he said grimly. ‘But I do not think anyone will. That would necessitate an admission of their own guilt, after all.’

  Tren and I installed ourselves back in one of our former suites, though without the captivity this time. As I suspected, the rooms were delightful once we were no longer prisoners in there (theoretically, at least; thanks to Gio, our period of genuine confinement had been short-lived). As for my implant, I stopped hiding it. If we had a solid reason to be at Sulayn Phay, then I also had a solid reason to have free access to and from the place, and Gio could not be blamed for obliging me with the necessary means.

  So much for our official activities! The interesting stuff happened in between, of course. We arranged a schedule. Two of us were always free of teaching duty, at any given time. Those two were charged with finding pretexts for wandering the Library, and for finding their way into all manner of secret nooks and promising-looking dark corners. Gio or I went along at every opportunity, seeing as we had the means to hastily extract ourselves and our fellow spies at need. Gio also committed himself to having our implants… adjusted. With Ylona’s help, he intends to ensure we are given access to as much of the Library as she can contrive. He claims to know a disenfranchised follower of Dwinal’s who will grant us much of the rest, too, so we should be relatively free agents.

  Ylona, Ylona. I am conscious that her name keeps coming up, but I still have yet to meet her — properly that is, as herself and not as the charming but fictional Heliandor Rasset. I resolve upon changing that, as soon as I can do so without attracting Dwinal’s suspicion.

  In the meantime, so settled we into a life of alternate education and espionage. It occurred to me, after some days of this, that I have not thought about my previously all-important wedding plans in weeks. I cannot say that I am sorry for it, either. The unexpected benefits of dark plots, dire threat and immense complications? I do not think we can get away with recommending the approach to frustrated brides-to-be in general. It is unlikely to catch on.

  12 V (?)

  Today I received a visit from Hyarn.

  I say I rather than we because it was a private visit, paid to my private suite, at a time when Tren was absent. I got the impression that Hyarn knew this, and had deliberately arranged his visit accordingly.

  It was also oddly low-key. Considering that he appeared to have made a special point of presenting himself, I assumed that he must have had something particular to say to me — something important. But he knocked politely upon my door, asked after my health when I answered, and accepted my offer of a chair with an air of quiet serenity that hinted at no urgent purpose whatsoever.

  ‘And how are your endeavours progressing?’ he enquired, with a smile.

  ‘Moving was an unfortunate necessity,’ I said, with outrageous untruthfulness. ‘It was sadly disruptive to our programmes of study, and set back our progress a little way. But we are all settling in, I believe, and my tutors inform me that classes proceed more or less as desired.’

  Hyarn nodded thoughtfully. He did not say anything for a moment, and I took the time to observe him carefully. If I say that he was the kind of person who seemed to be going out of his way to be bland, will you understand what I mean? He was of indeterminate age, neither young nor old; his clothes, the arrangements of his hair, were unremarkable; he had no particularly memorable features of any kind. I cannot quite believe that a person could be so featureless by accident. Perhaps it is merely my suspicious side talking, but I felt that there was some manipulation occurring, some calculated display designed to encourage me to overlook him.

  I think that my response was not what he was looking for, somehow, for he tried again. ‘All of your… projects, are going well?’

  How casual a question, and how probing. My hackles arose, for here was Dwinal’s closest associate, cornering me alone in order to do a spot of digging. ‘Which projects, exactly? We have so many in hand.’

  I watched him think. At length he decided not to answer the question — an approach he seemed often disposed to fall back upon, to my distaste — and instead said: ‘If you need any extra assistance, Lady Glostrum, I hope you will consider me at your disposal.’

  That was unexpected. ‘What kind of assistance?’

  ‘I am second-in-command at Sulayn Phay, and I have a great many resources at my disposal. While our Lokantor may find herself too busy to pay you or your associates much attention, I hope you will believe that I am differently disposed.’ He looked intently at me, and added: ‘If any of your projects, official or unofficial, could benefit from my assistance, please approach me at once. You will find me more than ready to support you.’

  He took his leave soon afterwards, leaving me to mull this over. I did not return much more than a gracious acknowledgement to his peculiar offer, being too confused to know what to make of it. What did he mean by, “official or unofficial”? Had he truly intended to criticise Dwinal, with his very mild reproof? If so, what did that mean? For he was second-in-power, and had always appeared to be thick as thieves with the Lokantor. What did he imagine our “unofficial projects” might be, and how did he propose to help us? Why did he propose to help us?

  Few people have managed to confuse me more, or with fewer words. I did feel, though, that we have been too quick to focus upon Dwinal, and have consistently overlooked Hyarn.

  ‘Don’t forget,’ Tren pointed out later. ‘It was he who sent us to Gio’s rooms, where we found Nindrinat.’

  ‘Yes, but there may be nothing in that. It’s natural enough to send us to Gio’s rooms, when we said we were looking for him.’

  ‘There may be nothing in it, or there may be e
verything. He also killed Galywis, so we know he is a man of… resolution, to say the least.’

  ‘Hmm. All right, we will keep more of an eye on Hyarn. Somehow.’

  Tren hesitated. ‘Shall we… give him a try?’

  ‘What. You mean, ask his help?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘With what, exactly?’

  Tren grinned. ‘With one of our “unofficial” projects.’

  ‘The man is in Dwinal’s pocket! She probably sent him to find out what we are really doing up here. I know she suspects that we have an ulterior motive, and Hyarn’s the perfect person to send. He’s unassuming, unintimidating (his being a confirmed murderer notwithstanding), and does a fine job of appearing very obliging. Our going to him with a problem is exactly what we are supposed to do!’

  ‘So, call the bluff. We can try him out with something unimportant. If the result is that Dwinal comes straight down on us in a blaze of retribution, we know not to trust Hyarn.’

  ‘Beautifully reasoned, but I’m sure they can predict that’s what we would do.’

  ‘Yours is a suspicious nature, my love.’

  He wasn’t wrong, but was that so bad? ‘It’s necessary to be on one’s guard with these people. At all times. They cannot be trusted, you know this.’

  Tren sighed. ‘I think it’s just possible that they aren’t all manipulation and lies, all the time. Once in a while, somebody probably wishes us well and genuinely wants to be of use.’

  ‘So Hyarn came here to help us, out of the goodness of his heart? I am sorry, love, but I can’t believe it. He killed Galywis. We have no reason to imagine that he possesses anything resembling a heart.’

  ‘No, but supposing he does have an ulterior motive of his own, that need not preclude his ability to be helpful to us, too. If our various goals align, it would be advantageous for us to approach him.’

  ‘Tren. I love you, but—’

  ‘Uh oh.’ Tren took a step back.

  I ignored this. ‘— but we have every reason to distrust Hyarn, and none whatsoever to give him the benefit of the doubt.’

  ‘We need help.’