by Joseph Lallo
'Mamma wants it out of Glinnery, doesn't she? As far away from me as possible.'
'It might be fair to say that its departure from Glinnery would be a desirable bonus.'
Llandry thought back further, remembering the conversation she had overheard between Devary and her mother. 'Did mother ask you to take the stone to Nimdre?'
He gave her a quick, penetrating glance. 'I believe it was her idea, yes.'
Llandry sighed. Ynara liked her world to be neat and uncomplicated. The istore was certainly a complication, and apparently Devary was scarcely less so. As such, away both must go.
'I'm going to bed,' she said. 'When are you leaving?'
'Not until tomorrow. I'll see you before I leave.'
She nodded curtly and quickly left the room. Expecting sleeplessness, she collected her favourite novel from the bookcase on her way past and took it upstairs with her. Curling up in bed with Sigwide on her pillow, she flicked through to the best parts. The story charted the life of a girl with extraordinary summoning abilities, who went on to become a famous High Summoner. The heroine became everything Llandry wished to be: smart, confident, powerful, popular. Her very favourite chapter was near the end, when the heroine married a prince and became a princess.
Even the wedding chapter couldn't entirely absorb her today, however. Her mind worked restlessly, refusing to be stilled or distracted, and as page after page glided away before her eyes without imparting any clear idea of the plot, she finally closed the book and let it drop to the floor. Sigwide was already asleep, but he didn't wake when she gently stroked his soft fur.
The imminent departure of her last, prized piece of istore was a sad prospect, that much was a given. But she felt curiously saddened that it was Devary who would be taking it away. All her wariness of him had disappeared, and while she couldn't yet claim to be comfortable with him, she felt sure that she could be, in time. For her, that was remarkable. She had never had a real friend outside of her family.
But now it would all be over. Devary was leaving, and she had little doubt that he wouldn't be coming back, not for some time. She might never see him again. She pictured herself after tomorrow's eventide, left cooped up alone in the house while her mother sat on the Council and her father built elevators for the city. No istore to soothe her anxieties and bolster her confidence, and no Devary to keep her company and teach her to play the lyre. Her stomach twisted with misery at the thought.
Perhaps she could go along. The idea caught her imagination, and for a few minutes she indulged in the idea, picturing herself travelling with Devary, seeing Nimdre. She had rarely travelled outside of Glinnery, and then only to Irbel once as a child, or to the Darklands Market on the edge of Glour. Devary's tales of Nimdre, where the sun rose and set and the days turned regularly between light and dark, were thrilling to her.
But her mother would never agree to it, not while there was the smallest chance of her encountering another whurthag. Llandry's spirits sank again. But the idea refused to leave her, and as long as it nagged at her thoughts, she was unable to sleep.
She could try to persuade her mother. Ynara would probably forbid it, but the attempt must be made.
Maybe she could begin by persuading Devary.
Llandry was up early the next day in spite of her poor night's sleep. She waited until her mother had left the house on some errand, then she went to find Devary.
'I should go with you,' she said without preamble.
He looked at her quizzically. 'Why is that?'
She straightened her shoulders, lifting her chin. 'Because I know more about the stone than anyone else. If you're taking it to be studied, I should be there.'
'Your mother wouldn't like that, I think. You could give me all the information that you have, and I'll pass it to the university at Draetre.'
'That's not the same.'
He lifted his brows. 'Oh?'
'I want to go. It's my fault that most of this has happened. I should have left those gems where I found them.'
'You couldn't have known what would happen, Llandry. It doesn't mean you should endanger yourself again trying to resolve it.'
'Didn't you say there was no particular danger?'
He sighed helplessly. 'Yes, but - that applies to me. Not necessarily to you.'
'I can't take care of myself?'
He looked gravely at her. 'In many ways, yes. If your life is endangered, I fear not.'
Llandry sat down, subdued. Devary may be unfailingly courteous, but he had a firm will too.
Either that, or he was far too afraid of her mother to risk her disapproval.
'Please take me along,' she said.
'We will ask your mother's opinion.'
Llandry turned on him a look of contempt. 'That,' she said flatly, 'is a cop-out. You know she won't hear of it.'
'With good reason.'
'I am a grown woman!' she hissed, horribly aware that she sounded anything but adult as she said it. 'My mother does not make my decisions for me.'
Devary was unmoved. 'I cannot agree to something that will worry your mother.'
Definitely afraid of Ynara. Not that Llandry could blame him, not entirely.
'What's the trouble?' Ynara herself appeared behind Devary, carrying Sigwide. She handed the bundle of fur over to Llandry, pecking her on the cheek in the process.
'I'm going with Devary to Draetre, Mamma,' Llandry said firmly, accepting a kiss from Sigwide too.
'Oh?' Ynara raised her brows at Devary, who lifted his hands.
'Her idea,' he said. 'I have not agreed to anything.'
'I don't need you to agree,' Llandry said coolly.
'But, love, your arm...'
'It's healed.' She backed away but Ynara bore down on her, peeling back her sleeve. The flesh beneath was still ruptured, but shiny new skin was rapidly forming over the wounds.
'It's healed enough,' Llandry amended. 'I'm fit to go, Ma.'
'It is dangerous, love,' Ynara said gravely. 'Remember, we still don't know who is responsible for all of this, nor where they might be.'
'Now that the cave has been discovered - and emptied - I am no longer a target. You said yourself that the attempts to contact me stopped some days ago. I'm not afraid.'
'I think you should be.' Ynara's tone was swiftly developing that note of steel that meant she did not mean to be overruled. 'Why is it so important to you, love? Devary will take care of it.'
'It's my responsibility.'
'No! No part of your duty involves risking your own hide in pursuit of this ridiculous gem. That's what it's really about, isn't it? You can't bear to see it go. I think you need to question whether that's healthy, Llan.'
'It isn't the stone, Ma!'
Ynara gave her the cold stare.
'All right, it isn't just the stone. I'm going mad locked away in the house. I need to get out of here, stretch my wings.'
'So go to the library. I will provide a guard for you.'
'I've been to the library a hundred times. I want to go somewhere new.'
Ynara shook her head. 'No. I'm sorry, Llan, but it's unthinkable. The rogue gates are slowing down, but those beasts are still coming through, and there's no telling whether the whurthags are truly gone. This is not the time to be taking sight-seeing expeditions.' Llandry opened her mouth to speak, but her mother cut her off. 'No further arguments. When this is all over, your father and I will take you to Nimdre, if you wish. In the meantime, you'll stay here. I don't want to bury my only child.' She stalked out of the room, forestalling Llandry's response.
Llandry was silent, smarting with a mixture of frustration, disappointment and humiliation. To be lectured and controlled like a child, in front of Devary! She pushed back her chair, intending to leave, but he startled her by laying a hand briefly over hers.
'Your mother loves you more than anything, Llandry. I only wish she had the same concerns for my safety.'
Lla
ndry snorted. 'You want to be kept behind locked doors all your life?'
'She is right, at least for the present. Now is not the time for sight-seeing.' He released her hand and stood up. 'I must pack. But, Llandry, perhaps you will come and see me when you make your projected visit to Nimdre? I will be glad to see you.' She couldn't tell if he was sincere, but his smile was warm.
'Thanks,' she said. She couldn't find anything else to say. After a moment, he left.
***
The day passed sluggishly. Too crushed to settle to any productive task, Llandry drifted aimlessly about the house, observing the preparations from a distance. Ynara had arranged for an armed escort for Devary, along with a summoner-sorcerer team to accompany him as far as the Nimdre border. She watched dully as Devary talked with her mother, always in corners and in undertones so she couldn't hear what was said. At last, when it was time for him to leave, her heart rebelled. She couldn't sit at home, safe and protected, while Devary risked himself over the stone. And she couldn't sit at home, cherished but stifled, while Devary took his part in the tale unfolding around the istore.
Slipping silently up to her room, she packed a small bag. A change of clothes, a blanket, and two bottles of her tonic went in. She was trembling already, but this time with excitement mixed with the dread of defying her mother. It didn't feel the same as her usual attacks, but no doubt those would plague her still.
As an afterthought, she added her favourite book. If her courage failed her, she could read again the passages where her heroine achieved her greatest victories. Perhaps she would feel empowered.
She hid the bag under her bed and laid Sigwide's carry case atop the covers. Now she had only to wait. She wouldn't try to steal out of the house too soon; her mother would be on the watch. She would wait for a short time after Devary's departure, then catch up with him. She knew his projected route. If she tailed him as far as Nimdre without being discovered, when she finally revealed herself it would be too late to send her home.
Trying to ignore the excited thumping of her heart, Llandry sat down to wait.
Chapter Sixteen
'We have to get him to an infirmary.' Tren surged to his feet, his hands and clothes covered in Edwae's blood. He looked ready to run all the way back to Westrarc by himself.
'Tren.' Eva caught at his arm, restraining him lest he fly off without thought. 'Look at him. He'd never survive the trip.'
Tren looked. Poor Edwae lay inert save for the pained heaving of his chest as he fought to breathe. That ragged breath had stopped, started, stopped again; his chest was laid open with the same wounds that Eva had seen on Meesa's destroyed body. Finshay had ripped a cloak to pieces and bandaged Edwae's chest, but nothing could halt the flow of blood.
'We must be miles from anywhere with a healer. We'll be lucky to move him at all without-' She stopped. She was going to say 'without killing him,' but Tren's face whitened so rapidly at the implication of it that she feared for his health.
'Sit down,' she said gently. He obeyed, numbly. Finshay was still tending to Ed, brisk, efficient and entirely without sympathy. His ministrations seemed to be helping, however. Eva watched as he unstoppered a phial and placed it to Edwae's lips, forcing him to swallow the contents. After a few minutes Ed's breathing stabilised a little, and his contorted face eased.
'What's that?' Tren asked, suspicious.
'Pain draught,' said Fin. 'Strong one.'
'How strong?'
'Strong enough to kill a healthy person. He's got about an hour.'
'What?' Tren knocked the phial out of Finshay's hands, leaned over to stare anxiously into Ed's greying face. 'How could you just -?' He stared at Finshay, tensed as if ready to strike him.
'Don't be an idiot,' said Finshay brutally. 'He's going to die. Even if we could get him straight to an infirmary, he couldn't be saved now. We need him able to talk, get what information we can out of him.'
'No,' whispered Tren. 'There's time, there must be more we can do for him. Something.'
'Like what?' Finshay stood up, cleaning his hands. 'Forget it, Warvel. You can do the interrogation if it's going to bother you, but get on with it. There isn't much time.' He retired to the other side of the clearing, lay down with his cloak under his head as a pillow, and to all appearances went to sleep.
Tren said nothing. He turned his face away from Finshay, his jaw clenched tight. He picked up one of Edwae's hands and gripped it hard.
'Ed?'
Edwae turned unfocused eyes on him, obviously seeing nothing. Eva fetched her notebook out of her bags and seated herself beside Tren. She handed him her water bottle.
'He might be able to speak if he drinks something,' she said quietly. Tren silently took the bottle from her and fed Ed with a thin trickle of water, patient and silent as his friend swallowed some and spilled rather more.
'Ed,' Tren tried again. 'Ed, you need to tell us what happened.' He gripped his friend's fingers as Ed tried to rise, placing a gentle hand on his chest to hold him down.
'Don't try to move,' he said softly. 'You're badly hurt.'
'So it appears,' said Edwae weakly. 'Somehow I don't feel anything.' He looked vaguely down at himself, puzzled.
'You're under a pain draught.'
Ed blinked at the bloody bandages that swathed his torso and abdomen. 'What happened,' he repeated. 'Right.' He eased his head back and closed his eyes. Tren leaned over him, repeating his name with growing urgency.
'I'm awake,' said Ed vaguely. His eyes opened again and he focused on Eva. 'New girlfriend?'
Tren chuckled. 'No. Lady Evastany Glostrum, High Summoner.'
'M'lady.' Edwae frowned at her. 'Right. Seen your picture in the papers.'
'That happens more than I'd like,' Eva said.
'Reckon it would,' Ed replied, with a ghost of a chuckle. 'Got any family?'
'Not yet.'
'You sure?'
'Quite sure, yes.'
Ed's eyes lost their focus on her face and he closed them again.
'Speaking of girlfriends, what's this I hear about yours?' Tren spoke lightly, but Eva knew he was hurt that his friend hadn't confided in him.
Ed's eyes opened. 'You heard about that.'
'We saw your mother,' Tren said gently. 'She's worried about you.'
'Ah...' Ed sighed faintly. 'You'll take care of them, Tren? They'll need you, till the girls are grown up.'
'Don't speak of that,' said Tren lightly. 'You'll be fine.'
'Tren. You seen this?' He nodded slightly down at the mess of his torso.
Tren swallowed. 'I noticed it, yes.'
'Don't talk rubbish, then. Promise me you'll make sure the girls are all right.'
'Don't worry about that. They'll have everything they need.'
Ed nodded. 'I never meant to make such a mess,' he said helplessly. 'I just... there was never enough money, the girls are growing older and they need more all the time...'
'Someone offered you money?'
'More of it than I'd make in five years. All I had to do was make a small, temporary change to the span of the Night Cloak. They promised no one would know. I think I knew Angstrun would find out, but I couldn't say no...'
Tren sighed. 'Who paid you?'
'I don't know. I only spoke to him twice, and he was always disguised, shrouded. Never saw a face, even. Think it was a male. All I can say for sure.'
'Damn.'
'Can't be that many male sorcs with disguise skills on that level. Get your man there on it.' He rolled his eyes up in the vague direction of Finshay's recumbent form. 'Had a touch of accent, probably Orstwych but could've been Ullarn.'
Eva wrote quickly, recording everything Edwae said. An idea occurred to her, and she leaned slightly forwards.
'What about the pale-haired woman?'
Ed's eyes flicked towards her. 'Looks like you.'
'Me?'
'Well.' He narrowed his eyes slightly, inspecting her. '
Might just be the hair,' he conceded.
Tren frowned. 'Ed, who is she?'
'The most beautiful woman in the world,' he said.
Tren smiled sadly. 'Your mother said she was a sorceress?'
'Sorceress? No, not that.' Ed's breathing began to grow laboured again, and he winced. 'Traitoress, though. She introduced me to her... friend. The man without a face. How strong did you say that draught was?'
'Pretty damn strong.' Tren stared at his friend, alarmed. 'It hasn't even been half an hour...'
Ed was silent for several minutes, occupied with trying to get enough air. Eva and Tren could only watch, helpless. At last he rallied a little again.
'Met her at Darklands Market,' he continued. 'Thought she liked me.'
'Didn't she?'
'She sent the shrouded man to me. I'd say not.'
'Ed, what is her name?'
'Said she was called Ana. From Orstwych, she claimed. Accent wasn't right though.'
'You think she was lying.'
'Seems likely.' Ed's eyes grew sad. 'Never saw her again after the job.'
Tren shook his head. 'Why did you run, Ed? Why didn't you tell me about this before?'
'Couldn't stay around, could I? I knew they'd be looking for a scapegoat.' His breathing grew wet, stifled with blood. 'Tren, I swear. I never knew what would come of it. I never meant for anyone to be hurt.'
'I know, Ed. It's okay.'
'I met him in Orstwych after I'd done the job. Got the money. Left it with the girls. Then I followed him. He came out here, fast, sure, like he knew where to go. Turned out there's a regular gate here.' Edwae was talking fast, now, sensing that he was running out of time. 'Tried to stop him going through. Obviously I failed.'
'You said he was a sorc.'
'Right.'
'Why did he need to find a gate? Why didn't he just open one?'
'No idea. He went through it, though, with his entourage in tow.'
'Wait. There was only him? Nobody else was with him?'
'Just him.'
'He's a sorc, and he's dragging whurthags around with him?'
Ed gave a tiny shrug. 'He had a couple of them.'
'And they were obeying him?'