by Joseph Lallo
'I don't like being barricaded in here either,' she said, putting a few more stitches in his shirt.
'I am sure you don't,' he replied. 'I'm sorry. It isn't your fault.' He collected Ynara's teapot and filled it with water. 'Some more tea?'
***
Sunset came and Llandry's parents did not appear. The dusk hours dragged by slowly, Llandry and Devary both too tense to settle to anything. At last they retired to bed, though both were awake and up before sunrise. Shortly before sunset came around again, there came a pounding on the outer door. Devary leapt up and drew back the bolts, yanking the door open. Aysun stood on the other side with Ynara behind him. They both stepped hastily into the kitchen, and Devary slammed the door shut quickly behind them.
'Ma.' Llandry went to her mother, wanting to feel Ynara's arms around her. She sensed weariness and looked up searchingly into her mother's face.
'I'm all right, love, and so are you it seems, so everything is well.' Ynara kissed her forehead. 'We are in sore need of tea, though.' Llandry went immediately to the stove.
'Did you run into trouble on the way back?' said Devary.
'Some,' said Aysun. 'Seems someone's put a small army of animals between Glour City and Waeverleyne.'
'They were in the city too, yesterday,' said Devary. 'Summoners have been cleaning them out.'
Ynara looked up at that. 'Any trouble here?' Her perceptive eye shifted from the shuttered windows to her daughter's face.
'We had an intruder, yesterday,' said Devary, sitting across from Ynara at the table. He gestured with his hands, indicating the size of the beast. 'Green hide. Big teeth. Llandry banished it.'
'Banished?' Ynara looked intently at her daughter.
'Devary was going to kill it,' explained Llandry, glancing guiltily at her father. He lifted one shaggy blond eyebrow at her, but said nothing.
'A second visited us the night before last, which I was obliged to destroy,' added Devary. 'Oh, and another newcomer two days ago. Small thing, wings. Not dangerous. Llandry has been tending to it.'
'It's still alive,' she reported. 'I'm going to keep it. Unless Sig tries to swallow it again. Anyway, Ma, what's the news from Glour?'
Llandry had the sense that her mother was trying not to look at her. 'Some good, some bad.'
'Start with the good.'
'Mm, well. The Glour summoners have taken care of the whurthag problem. Also, the Night Cloak has been pulled back to its original position.'
Llandry's spirits lifted. 'Great! Then I can go to the cave soon?' She frowned. 'Maybe after the beast-army's gone.'
'The bad news,' persevered Ynara, 'is that the cave is empty.'
Llandry's frown deepened. 'Empty?'
'There's no istore left. It's all gone.'
Llandry felt suddenly cold. 'It can't be all gone. The walls were full of it.'
'Nonetheless, it's gone. I'm sorry, love. I saw it myself. There's no doubt about it. Also,' she continued, 'our new beast friends are coming through from the Lowers as well, in similar numbers. Some of them have been identified. There are at least five species so far that were previously thought to be extinct.'
'Five?' Devary echoed. 'That is an extraordinary degree of error.'
'Mm,' Ynara agreed. 'It's true that the Off-Worlds are large; there must be areas that are unexplored, and these animals have been hiding out of reach. Though why they would now be venturing into inhabited territory is another question.'
Llandry stopped listening. The stone had endangered her clients; she knew that. She'd had no intention of making any more jewellery with it, and besides, had there been any istore remaining in the cave it would have been taken by the university. So why was she upset? The prospect of its complete loss affected her deeply, almost as though she'd lost some part of herself.
She slipped a hand into the pocket of her skirt, curling her fingers around her beautiful istore pendant. She had finished it yesterday while Devary was absorbed in his music, and so far it remained a secret. At least she could keep this one piece for herself.
'Ma? Do they know who shifted the Night Cloak?'
'Yes, that's known, and he's being sought. But it seems unlikely that he was responsible for all of this chaos, no matter what some people in Glour are saying. He isn't a summoner, for a start.'
Llandry pursed her lips. The istore was remarkable, certainly, and its apparent effects were desirable, but why should anybody go to such lengths to acquire every known piece?
Ynara seemed to guess her thoughts. 'Don't worry, love. Most of the University of Glour is working on this now, and our own university. That's a lot of very bright minds. And the person - the sorcerer - who changed the Cloak, well, he may have information. We will learn something soon.'
Chapter Fourteen
Eva was up to her ears in sorcery, and hating it.
Once they'd left the environs of Westrarc, Tren had been firm in the need for defences. 'No telling what's about out here,' he said cheerfully. He made Eva stand still with her eyes closed while he worked on her. She felt a Cloak settle over her like a shroud, cold and clinging and faintly damp. When he'd finished, she stood wrapped and tangled in enchantments that lay heavily upon her.
'How repulsive.' A violent shiver wracked her, and she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to warm up.
'You're welcome,' Tren smiled as he moved away.
Eva sighed. She'd been Cloaked before, years ago. It was something she'd steadfastly avoided since then. She knew it would take her hours to accustom herself to the burden of breathing and moving beneath the weight of the sorcery.
'It's quite worth it, I assure you,' said Tren over his shoulder, as if reading her thoughts. 'You're now part of the Night Cloak. Nothing's very likely to spot you unless you speak.'
'Except some of the more sensitive beasts pouring out of the Lowers these days.'
Tren shrugged. 'Nothing's perfect.'
Finshay submitted to his Cloaking without a syllable. Hours later, Eva still felt stifled, cold and burdened by the weight. She refused to complain, however; and so on they went, following the trail marked out by the shortig and with the gwaystrel ghosting on silent wings overhead. As they travelled further across Orstwych, the landscape changed again: the gentle hills ended, and trees closed in. These were different to the dark, contorted irignol that crowded the forests of Glour and western Orstwych. Her night-eyes caught hints of deep colour glinting in the moonlight, shades of blue and green and purple patterning the bark. Frondy red foliage rose above like tattered lace.
They saw nothing of whurthags, though the forests were by no means as they ought to be. Eva sensed several animal presences as they passed through the woods, traces of beasts that were obviously far from home. They were not aggressive, however, and not inclined to trouble their party. Eva left them alone.
As the moon sank out of sight and the Night Cloak rolled over the lands, Eva found herself with cause to be grateful for Tren's sorcery. The eager steps of the little hunting hound brought them through a dense thicket, choked with the deep-hued ferns and mosses that were everywhere in evidence in this part of the forest. They were deep in the midst of the thicket when Rikbeek sounded his alarm call from overhead.
The three halted, wary. Movement caught Eva's eye, and she slowly turned her head. Out of a shadowed burrow in the ground crawled a great creature, furred like a mammal but built more like the ferocious reptiles that lived on the shores of Lake Glanias in the north. An astwach, definitely a predator and decidedly unfriendly. Its movements were slow, but its head turned with alarming speed as it sought the source of Rikbeek's cry.
The three stood, immobile, as the beast emerged fully from its underground home. Eva's breath stopped. It was longer than she was tall, standing as high as her shoulder. Teeth glinted pale in the dark, and a long tail twitched with the stealthy intent of a predator. It stood, nose lifted to scent the air. Eva tried hard to remember whether the Cloak would mask
scent as well as visage. She thought not.
As if reaching the same conclusion, Tren beside her began to move. She mimicked his movements, slow and measured, creeping steadily away from the beast. As they were almost past the den, Eva noticed a smaller animal emerge from the burrow: unsteady on its legs and ungainly in its proportions, it was nonetheless an obvious copy of its parent.
The creature rounded on its young with a hiss, startlingly loud in the quiet of the night. Eva could not suppress a spasm of fear at the sound, full of menace and power. The smaller beast was relentlessly herded back into the den, its mother turning to follow. She heard Tren whisper, 'Run.'
And run she did, though the moment she increased her pace the forest floor seemed to suddenly bristle with twigs - dry ones that crackled loudly underfoot. Cloaked or not, there was no hiding after that.
Eva turned, already reaching out with her summoner senses. Before she could bring her will to bear upon their attacker it leapt towards her, snarling. A jump back didn't quite take her out of reach: she screamed as claws raked fire across her left hand, biting deep.
Then she was thrust aside. Finshay surged past her, daggers in his hands, and hurled himself on the beast. He fought fearlessly, his daggers flashing with astonishing speed, and within moments the astwach was in retreat. Finshay didn't stop.
'Fin,' yelled Tren. 'Let it be.'
Finshay lowered his daggers but he didn't turn, not until the astwach had retreated back into its burrow. Then he walked on for several minutes without saying a word. Eva followed, cradling her injured hand.
'An astwach, with young,' spat Finshay at last. 'Dangerous, and your gwaystrel betrayed us to it! No need for sorcery with friends like that.' He did not grow excitable in his anger, only colder than ever, his eyes flat and hard.
'We would have disturbed it anyway if we'd gone blundering past,' said Tren. 'It might've had one of us before we knew it was there. Rikbeek's warning was timely.'
'Rikbeek,' said Finshay viciously, as if the mere fact of granting the gwaystrel a name offended him personally. 'The High Summoner is meant to be able to sense nearby beasts without companion assistance, isn't she? I didn't see that happening.'
'It's a little bit harder when I'm already tracking two companion animals, one on the wing and one on the ground.' Eva spoke with chilling calm, refusing to be riled.
Finshay ignored her. 'We could have managed this assignment ourselves,' he said to Tren. 'I knew it was a mistake to have her along.'
'That's enough, Fin,' said Tren, with uncharacteristic harshness. 'Since when did you begin questioning orders? Besides, how else would you like to do it without a scent hound?'
'Could've borrowed a scent hound.'
'Without an experienced handler? Admit it, Fin, you're prejudiced.'
Fin narrowed his eyes at Tren. 'What if I am? Never known a useful noble yet. Pack of ornaments, all of them.' His eyes swept over Eva's undeniably fine figure and neatly arranged hair. She merely stared back at him coolly. He snorted, walked away. Tren shrugged apologetically, awarding her a consolatory smile.
'Don't mind him. He's good at his job.'
Eva resumed her steady pace, sending the shortig on ahead again. 'I'm not upset. What is his problem with the peers?'
'I don't know. He's always had those opinions, as long as I've known him.'
'And how long is that?'
'Hmm. Three years, thereabouts. We've worked together a few times.'
Eva nodded thoughtfully. She'd encountered resentment before from those who felt she must have bought her way into her position; who found it inconceivable that she could be any good at her role. Finshay's was particularly bitter. No doubt there was a reason for that, but she found it didn't interest her much. She dismissed the problem.
'You're hurt,' said Tren suddenly, noticing her odd way of carrying her hand.
'A bit,' she admitted. He took her fingers gently, uncurling her arm. The gash was deep, but the blood flow was already slowing.
'Um. I don't have any... Fin?' He looked around, but Finshay stalked a long way ahead, resentment evident in his stride.
'You don't happen to be carrying bandages, I suppose?' He looked at her hopefully.
She smiled ruefully and shook her head. 'I can't remember the last time I was injured. I didn't think of it.'
'It'll have to be my shirt, then,' he said regretfully.
'Oh no, really, it's fine...' She stopped. Tren had already tugged a clean shirt out of his bag and started ripping it up. She eyed the rather fine cloth with regret.
'I owe you a new shirt.'
'Offer accepted.' He worked with considerable care, barely hurting her at all. When he had finished, her hand was tightly bound, but an experimental flex of her fingers confirmed that she could still use it.
'Thank you. You're a useful person to have around in a minor crisis.'
'You're welcome.' He flashed her a quick smile and picked up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. Glancing ahead, she realised Finshay was out of sight; apparently he didn't care if they were ripped to pieces by a returning astwach while he was having his moment of pique. But the shortig waited for her, sitting on its haunches about thirty feet ahead. She started walking.
'Do you mind if I ask you something a bit personal?' Tren kept pace beside her. She could feel him tugging and tweaking at the sorcerous Cloak that shrouded her, adjusting it, probably repairing it.
'Only a bit personal? That can be allowed.'
He smiled briefly. 'Why did you insist on coming?'
'I was the best person for the task.'
'Why? I don't mean to question your abilities, but you're the High Summoner.'
'You think I should have sent someone else? One of my seconds, perhaps?'
'It might have made more sense.'
'You're not sold on the gwaystrel idea, I take it.'
'Oh, no. He's a remarkable creature. But there must be one other summoner in Glour with a gwaystrel.'
'I'm not at all sure about that, actually. I've never heard of one.'
Tren made a noncommittal noise. She understood. He wasn't questioning her right to be along so much as taking the opportunity to sound her out.
'I lost a friend. She was the first person slain by the whurthag.'
'Ah... I'm sorry.'
'I want to make sure the culprit is caught.' She paused, feeling a tug of guilt. 'If I'm completely honest, though - and I don't see why I should be, but nonetheless - that's not the whole reason. I think I wanted to escape.'
'From?'
'I've been a member of the peerage since I was fifteen. I've been High Summoner for eleven years. I'm shortly to become a married woman, probably with a family to raise; and I decided to do that because I knew it was appropriate. A rational decision to make at my time of life. Ties and burdens and responsibilities have dogged me since before I was fully grown, and I think... I wanted to get away before I lose the chance to make choices like this. I wanted to be directly involved, instead of arranging for somebody else to be.' She grinned ruefully. 'Having Rikbeek really just gave me an excuse to push for my own way in this. Really, I can hardly blame Mr. Arrerly for being angry.'
'No,' said Tren slowly. 'We were lucky to get you. And Rikbeek's already proved to be worth his weight in gold.'
Eva smiled, surprised. 'If you happen to have Beekie's weight in gold, you're welcome to him.'
Tren laughed. 'Is he so tiresome a companion?'
Eva inspected her good hand, adorned with several small, healing bite-scars. 'He is a bit grouchy in the mornings.'
'I'm afflicted with a similar problem,' admitted Tren. 'We'd make a good pair, perhaps.'
'You're first on my list of potential buyers, then. I apologise in advance.'
'Apology accepted.'
A faint yip sounded in the night. Eva turned her thoughts towards the shortig.
'Has he found something?' Tren stared hard into the dar
kness, trying to make out the small black shape of the scent hound somewhere ahead.
'I don't think so,' Eva said. 'We're falling behind, though.' She increased her pace, catching up to the dog. She searched briefly overhead, finding the gwaystrel still sweeping in slow circles beneath the canopy of the trees.
***
They were two days and a half on foot, travelling steadily southwards through Orstwych. Their journey had taken them a long way south, aiming with alarming accuracy for the wilds of Ullarn. The prospect of crossing into that notoriously perilous territory pleased nobody. Finshay had recovered from his temper at last, though he merely returned to his usual uncommunicative state. Eva was grateful for Tren's presence: without his friendly face and light-hearted chatter, the experience of following Edwae's trail could have been excruciating. She guessed that Tren talked in order to take his mind off their task. The tactic was effective for her, too, keeping her from undue pain over Meesa's fate.
They encountered a few more Lowers beasts, including one that Eva could have sworn was on the list of extinct species. Of these, only two posed any danger, and Eva was able to master them quickly enough to banish them through the gates Tren opened. Finshay was not obliged to repeat his athletic performance with the daggers.
The moon was sinking on the third day's journey when the shortig's steady pace began to pick up. His nose lifted to the winds and he barked, a high, thin sound full of excitement. They were close to Ullarn, and the terrain was growing steadily more difficult to navigate: uneven, and choked with thorned plants. She could smell burning coal on the air.
'He's got something,' murmured Eva, running forward. She was dimly aware of Finshay behind her, alert and tense, as she caught up with the hound.
The soft earth beneath her feet was dark and wet, stained in patches of a foreboding hue. A ripple of nervousness shivered over her skin as intuition suggested to her the nature of the stain. Tren knelt, dipping his fingers into the mud.
'Blood.'
Finshay's curved and wickedly sharp daggers appeared in his hands as he stood scanning the surrounding trees. The sight gave a sense of reality to the danger, and suddenly she was alert. Her eyes swept the branches overhead, seeking Rikbeek. He was nowhere within range, but no warning call came from him.