by Joseph Lallo
Llandry was quite ready to leave the room and escape Devary's scrutiny. She stood up, slowly, but her knees weakened halfway across the room and she almost fell. Her father and Devary both reacted; Devary was the closest and reached her first. She found herself scooped up and carried to her room. She was gently laid down on her bed, and a moment later Sigwide was placed on her pillow. She barely noticed as her mother bathed her wounds and replaced her bandages. She fell asleep with Sigwide curled against her face.
***
Llandry was aloft, suspended in the skies over Glinnery. She was lost in the clouds, enclosed within a dense, drifting white fog that utterly obscured her surroundings. Downwards she drifted, down and down until the fog cleared and she could see the wide caps of the glissenwol beneath. She landed gently, sinking up to her knees in a carpet of spongy moss; as she fought her way through it the clouds cleared overhead, revealing a sky tinted with lavender. The glissenwol were so tall she could barely see their caps from the ground; they gleamed with a vividness that hurt her eyes. A heady scent of alberries, nara-fruit and luminaef blooms assaulted her nose and she felt she could hardly breathe under the onslaught of that tangled aroma. She gasped for breath, tasting the blood that trickled steadily from her nose. Birdsong pelted her ears with rich notes both raucous and intensely melodic.
A streak of grey fur shot across her vision, disappearing into the waving grasses ahead. The colours were wrong, she noticed abstractedly; yellow where she expected green, blue where she expected red. She followed the grey creature, calling for Sigwide to wait, wait. Hands gripped her feet and she fell into an expanse of moss that changed its colours dizzyingly, reaching up to grasp her and pull her down into the depths...
Llandry woke slowly, fighting her way to consciousness through the clinging moss that filled her mind. She felt groggy, disorientated, as if she had slept for days. Perhaps she had. She rose determinedly, ignoring the weakness that threatened to send her spinning to the ground. She recognised the feeling of muffled abstraction: her mother had fed her herbs to keep her under. That explained the dreams.
Ynara was cooking. Whatever it was smelt wonderful, and Llandry realised she was starving.
'Ma.'
'Hello, love. Do you think you could eat something?'
'Half of a nivven, probably. Maybe all of it.'
Ynara grinned. 'Good. Just a minute, then.'
'I'd like to go home, later.'
'Home?' Ynara deliberately busied herself at the stove, not looking at Llandry.
'As in, back to my own tree.'
'Oh, but, love. I don't think you're well enough yet.'
'How long have I been asleep?'
'About two days.'
'Then I think I've slept enough.'
Ynara set a bowl of soup before her, adding a plate of fresh bread. Llandry ate readily, feeling stronger with each mouthful. Her mother drew out the chair opposite and sat, watching Llandry eat.
'Your father and I are worried about you.'
'I won't be far away, Ma.'
'Far enough.'
Llandry looked up, then wished she hadn't. Her mother's face was taut with concern, her eyes dark with real fear. Llandry winced inwardly. Ynara had never been able to have more children, though she had wanted to; giving birth to Llandry had almost killed her, and Aysun had forbidden any repeat of the experience. She knew all too well that she was all her mother would ever have.
'I could stay a day or two more.'
'We just want to make sure you're all right, love.'
'I know, Ma. Can I have the balcony? I want to get some work done.'
'Of course, love. Anything you need. Only leave it a day or two, hm? Your arm needs a bit more time to heal.' Her mother's obvious relief was painful. Llandry knew her day or two would turn into many more, but she didn't have the heart to argue.
Of course, if her mother's house was as it used to be - just herself, Ynara and Aysun - she might not have wanted to.
'Is... will Devary be staying much longer?'
Ynara's head tilted, her expression becoming appraising.
'Yes, love. He offered to stay and help. I asked him to keep an eye on you if we aren't home.'
Llandry sighed, not bothering to hide it. With Devary as her guardian - jailer, even - she would have no peace at all.
'Oh, love. He's quite easy to be around, I promise. You'll soon get used to him.'
Llandry nodded numbly, not meeting her mother's eyes. How she wished she'd inherited her mother's easy sociability, that understated charm and confidence that graced her every interaction. Or, failing that, could she not have followed her father's example? He freely rejected every social nicety, concerning himself with none of them. Instead she was caught in an eternal conflict: wanting to be part of her mother's easy social world, but unable to learn how.
'You trust him to take care of me?' Her mother's words in the kitchen came back to her; her distrust for Devary had been obvious, though Llandry did not understand the cause.
'I do,' Ynara replied. 'He's... capable, Llan, and he knows what will happen to him if anything happens to you.'
'What will happen to him?'
'I expect to begin with castration and move on to flaying alive.'
Llandry grinned in spite of herself. Nobody in their right mind would thwart her mother.
Ynara came around the table and hugged her, checking her arm as she did so. 'He won't be around all the time, love. There'll be other things for him to do.'
'I'll get used to him.' Llandry spoke with a confidence she didn't really feel.
'I hope so, love, because I have to leave today. Just for a few days.'
'What? Why?'
'Duty,' Ynara sighed. 'The trouble with the Night Cloak is a big issue. For generations - centuries, probably - the border between the Darklands and the Daylands has been fixed, agreed between Glour and Glinnery. In the past, disputes over that border have been... bloody. We can't let this pass without some show of investigation.'
'A "show" of investigation?'
'Well. I don't personally believe the Glour Government had anything to do with it. I know most of them. They're too sensible.' Ynara smiled briefly. 'I'm willing to believe this is a different sort of problem. But nonetheless, a delegation must be sent, and inevitably I must go with it.'
'You don't want to go.'
Ynara stroked Llandry's hair. 'I don't want to leave you, sweetheart, especially while you're ill. But I must be part of this delegation. And besides, it will give me an opportunity to investigate this cave business.'
'Ma! You're going to the cave? After you forbade me?' Fear squeezed Llandry's heart, picturing her mother attacked by lethal claws.
'Don't worry, love. There will be a proper expedition launched to examine the changes to the boundary and oversee the restoration of the border to its original position. We will have all proper protection. And I hear that the whurthags have been sent back to the Lowers.'
'Whurthags?'
Ynara looked guilty. 'I hadn't meant to mention that. Yes, there was more than one.'
'And you're still going? Is it any wonder why I'm stubborn, with a mother like you?'
Ynara laughed. 'Don't get any ideas, Llan. I still don't want you wandering caveward, under any circumstances. Just wait for me to return, please, and I promise I will tell you absolutely everything.'
Llandry slumped. 'I wish I could go with you.'
'Not with those injuries, love. You're getting better, but you'd certainly rip them open again. And I don't want to take you anywhere near that area until it's declared safe.'
'I know, I know. Are you going alone?'
'No. Your father insists on coming along. To protect me, he says.' Her lips twitched at the idea.
Llandry's stomach dropped a long way. 'You're both going?'
'It's only for a few days, love, as I said.'
Llandry groaned. A few days alone with a stranger?
Her life had taken a definite turn for the worse lately.
'Can't you... can't Devary go with you and Papa stay here?'
'Do you dislike Devary so much?' Her mother sounded disappointed, which was unbearable.
'N-no, not - not dislike, exactly. I just...' She couldn't find the words to explain.
'You'll soon get to know him, love. He's ... well, he has his faults, but he's easy to get along with. Abominably loveable, in fact. I think you'll like him.'
'I'm sure you're right, Mamma.' Llandry didn't feel any conviction of truth in her words, but she spoke them anyway.
'Truthfully, love, I'm hoping you'll look after Devary a bit as well. He's wearing himself out.'
'He must be more than twice my age,' said Llandry irritably. 'He doesn't need looking after.'
'He does,' said Ynara. 'He's trying too hard.'
'What do you mean by that?'
'He's overworking himself, trying to do everything at once. Helping Aysun, helping me, trying to look after you.'
'Sounds like he's trying to make up for something.' Llandry spoke casually, but her mother's gaze grew sharp.
'Why do you say that?'
'Oh... no reason.'
Ynara narrowed her eyes, but let the allusion pass. 'I need you to do one thing for me before I leave.'
'Anything.'
'Do you recognise these names?' Ynara placed a piece of paper in front of Llandry. A long list was laid out upon it in green ink.
'Some of them,' Llandry said, scanning rapidly. 'Saudran Iritan. Alen Marstry. They were some of my customers-by-post.'
'Eva said they're looking for everyone who has - or had - some of your istore. Is this a full list?'
'I don't think so. It's too short.'
'Can you give me a list of people you've crafted for?'
'I can, Ma, but I don't know who they all were. I sold a lot at the markets.'
'I know. Just write down everyone whose names you do have. It will all help.'
'What about my Daylands customers? Has somebody told them?' Llandry felt a flicker of panic, picturing her clients cold and bloodied, their jewellery forcibly removed.
'That's the other thing I'd like you to do, love. The bulletin boards have been activated to issue warnings about the istore, so some of them will already know, but perhaps not everyone has heard yet. I'd like you to write to everyone on your list, tell them to hand in their istore pieces at the Council Halls. The guard below will see that your letters are delivered.'
Llandry twisted the list in her hands, her eyes blurring. 'All these names. Ma, I got these people robbed, killed...'
Ynara released her and moved to sit in front of her daughter, stroking her face. 'No, love, you didn't. You didn't know. You've done nothing wrong.'
Llandry blinked a few times, trying to control the prickle of tears behind her eyes. She knew firsthand the sort of pain the whurthag could inflict; she only hoped the creature's victims had died too quickly to feel much of it.
Ynara kissed her, wrapping her in a quick, fierce hug. 'I have to go, love. We are leaving in an hour. Will you promise me to take care of yourself? You and Devary?'
'Of course, Ma. And you - you be careful.'
'I'll be fine. Your father will be with me. Can you picture him permitting anything to get near me without invitation?' She smiled, and Llandry couldn't help smiling back. 'I'll be home soon, love.'
***
Llandry wrote letters until her fingers ached. She wrote on until her fingers formed blisters and began to bleed. Hours after the departure of her mother and father, Llandry was still curled up in the parlour writing detailed missives to each person on her list. She couldn't help including apologies, useless though they were. She felt responsible for the trouble that now threatened each of these people.
Devary arrived home sometime after sunset. He entered the parlour hesitantly, as if unsure of his welcome. Llandry tried to smile. Her muscles were so tense she feared it was more of a grimace, but it seemed to help. He smiled back.
'I'm sorry you're left with me,' he said. 'It is only for a few days.'
'It's fine.'
'If your letters are done, I could take them down for you. There is a messenger waiting.'
'Thank you.' She picked up the pile of envelopes that lay at her left elbow, handing them to him. He took them, taking care not to touch her fingers. He turned to leave.
'Devary?'
He turned back. 'Hm?'
'What would you like for supper?'
He gave a genuine smile, one which lit up his eyes with real warmth. 'Why don't I cook? I will show you something from Nimdre.'
'Thank you.' She hesitated. 'M-maybe you could show me how to make it.'
'Agreed,' he said. 'Meet me in the kitchen in ten minutes.' He left, still smiling. Llandry took a deep breath, wondering what had possessed her to suggest it. Guilt at her own lack of graciousness, probably. He meant well, after all, and he was harmless; the problem lay with her.
Chapter Ten
Eva placed a black pebble on the map spread across Guardian Troste's table.
'That's where the seventh was found.' She'd traced a pattern across the map in seven black pebbles, marking where each whurthag had been discovered. Commander Iver of the Glinnery delegation had already drawn the new outline of the Night Cloak, marking where it had expanded into Glinnery territory. The expansion was fairly even down much of the Glinnery-Glour border, excepting one area where the line swung sharply into the Daylands, covering an area of at least a hundred feet.
The seven black pebbles formed a neat semi-circle around it.
Elder Sanfaer leaned forward and picked up a small blue pebble. Comparing the map on the table with the one in her hand, she carefully placed the blue pebble in the centre of the circle.
'That is the location of Llandry's cave.'
Six Glour officials and five Glinnery delegates stared at the map, silent. The implication was too obvious to need naming.
'Well,' said Guardian Troste, at length. 'I think that raises more questions than it answers.'
'The University of Waeverleyne is studying the stone. Some theories have been presented, but nothing solid has yet emerged.' The speaker was one of the Glinnery Elders, an elderly man whose hair was almost white. His face was mapped with wrinkles, but his bright blue eyes were sharp, focused.
'Elder Shuly, perhaps I could exact from you an agreement to notify Glour if your scholars discover anything significant.'
The white-haired man bowed his head to Guardian Troste. 'Of course.'
Eva watched all of the Glinnery officials covertly. Four of them bore wings, neatly folded against their backs. Glinnish wings had always fascinated her; they were not feathered like a bird's but more like a combination of a gwaystrel's and a daefly's wings, thin membrane over bone and painted with colour. She had a secret envy of their power of flight.
The fifth was unwinged, his colouring and accent suggesting Irbellian heritage. Eva had learned that he was Elder Sanfaer's husband, which interested her. He had said nothing throughout the meeting, merely watching with an intense, fixed attention which might be unnerving were it directed at a particular person.
Troste looked at Professor Mayn, head of Glour's University. He sat silent as usual, tugging thoughtfully at the tip of his long nose.
'Professor, we need to get the University involved immediately. Whatever you can come up with about this so-called istore should be brought directly to me. Top priority, please.'
Mayn nodded. 'Am I going to be needed here for the rest of the meeting?'
'Not urgently. I'll see that you are summoned at once if anything comes up.'
Mayn stood up, his bald head gleaming beneath the light-globes. 'I'll begin at once, then. Excuse me.' He left quietly, closing the door behind him.
Lord Angstrun stood up as well. He had withstood the meeting with ill-concealed impatience. Now he towered over the seated
officials with the air of a thundercloud about to erupt.
'For my part, I've a mess to clean up and a criminal to catch. If I may be excused?'
'Not yet,' said Troste, calmly. 'Sit down a moment, please.'
Angstrun scowled, but he obeyed.
'Altering the Night Cloak is a serious offence,' continued Troste. 'Is it yet confirmed who is responsible?'
Angstrun grimaced. 'More or less. I'm a minion down. One of my aides - one of my best, typically - has absconded without leave. Naturally this suggests a rather terrific guilt over something.' He glanced at the Glinnery delegates, sighed, and elaborated. 'I have six assistants taking care of the Night Cloak, two on duty at any given time. They maintain the Cloak, activate it at moonset, deactivate it at moonrise, repair leaks, that kind of thing. I daresay you have the same arrangement.' He glared at Laylan Westry, Glinnery's Chief Sorcerer, as if the Cloaking system was entirely her fault.
'We do,' she said, mild in the face of Angstrun's lack of manners.
'One of them has vanished. Young chap, not the sort to go to the dogs I'd have said, but you never know. He has the ability and the necessary access to move the Cloak, and his disappearance implicates him.'
Vale spoke up. Today he was looking most handsome in uniform, his Chief Investigator's badge prominently displayed on his left lapel. 'And the other five? It couldn't have been any of them?'
'Naturally it could have been any of them, but I don't think it was. They know what I'd do to them if I found out. Anyone with enough guts to do the deed would have wits enough to put a lot of distance between the two of us.'
'You're sure the man left voluntarily?'
'No,' said Angstrun briefly. 'That's your job.'
Vale permitted himself a small smile. 'True enough. What's the name?'
'Ed Geslin. Edwae, that is.'
'Thanks.' Vale scribbled messily in a small notebook, chewing on his lower lip as he pondered the information. It was one of the habits Eva found most endearing.
'Thank you, Lord Angstrun,' said Guardian Troste. 'I believe that's everything.'