by Joseph Lallo
'If you like.'
When they reached the base of the tower, a problem emerged.
There were no doors.
'There has to be an entrance somewhere,' Tren muttered. 'A clever hidden one, maybe, that only opens if you sing The Ballad of Mirella Heartburn in falsetto while juggling with a litter of kittens.'
Eva grinned. 'Feel free to start singing.' She stood back, looking up at the smooth stone walls towering above her. A single window was cut into the walls near the top, a mere gap in the stonework.
'That's the entrance.'
Tren stared up at it silently. 'You're not serious,' he said at length.
'Perfectly.'
'Do you number 'climbing like a monkey' among your list of remarkable abilities?'
'I've a better idea, actually.' She placed a hand against the smooth stonework of the tower and pinched her fingers together. The stone moved under her hand like dough, forming a step. She repeated the process below and above it until a ladder formed.
Tren stared at her helplessly. 'I give up,' he said.
'Best not to ask.' She set one foot against the lowest step and began to climb. Her skirts immediately tangled around her legs, threatening to dump her to the ground. She jumped down again.
'Er, Tren. This is the part where you don't look.' Lifting the hem of her skirt, she tucked the fabric into her waistband. The fabric ballooned around her - she probably looked like a walking mushroom - but at least her legs were free.
'Er,' said Tren.
'If I fall, you're to catch me,' she ordered.
'Yours to command, m'lady,' he said, with a salute.
'I know.' She smiled briefly, setting both hands to the ladder. She began to climb, pausing periodically to create the next few steps up. Her progress was slow but steady, and at last she reached the window at the top.
It was really just an opening, square, unadorned, and too small for her to fit through. Undaunted, she slipped her feet and legs through the gap, pushing against the wall. She felt the stone stretch and bend around her as she forced herself through, sliding inelegantly onto the floor of the room beyond. She turned to see the window shrink back to its neat square shape.
Tren still stood below, staring up at her. She gestured and he began, gamely, to climb. Soon he drew level with her, panting from the effort of the journey.
'All right. How did you fit through there?'
'Easy,' she said briskly. 'Come on, faster. The light will change again soon.'
'And then what happens?'
'Then the building disappears. We might move with it to wherever it goes, or we might fall a long way into whatever turns up next. It would be better to be out of here before that happens.'
'Huh.'
Eva stood back as Tren slid through the window. He made a sound of disgust as the stonework squirmed around him, reforming itself to let him through. He stood up immediately, dusting himself off.
'That's a repulsive experience.'
'There'll probably be worse yet,' replied Eva cheerfully.
'Great,' muttered Tren.
Eva circled the room. Clutter lay everywhere, covering the surface of the table that rested in the centre of the room, lying in layers over the cabinets that were fitted against the rounded walls. The furniture was dusty, the rugs on the floor crusted with mud. Eva paused before a pair of books lying open on the table.
'It's like someone lives here,' Tren commented.
'Probably someone does,' Eva replied. She gingerly picked up one of the books, handling the worn binding and loose pages carefully. The title was inscribed in wavering silver ink on the cover.
My Recollections of the Lower Realms: An Account of a Savant's Journey Below
Andraly Winnier, Lokant.
Tren looked over her shoulder. 'Lokant?'
'Any idea what that is?'
'None whatsoever.'
'Hmm. Then you haven’t heard of this book before?'
'No. And I've studied the libraries pretty thoroughly.'
She opened it again, browsing rapidly through the contents. Pages of crabbed, handwritten script were broken up with sketched images and patches of colour. She saw many of the acknowledged animal species of the Lowers catalogued, along with some beasts she didn't recognise. The author had recorded flora as well as fauna; some of the flowers of the meadow they'd passed through were there on the pages, minutely outlined in black and annotated.
'Interesting,' she murmured. Opening her bag, she withdrew her spare cloak and wrapped the book in it. She eased the bundle into the bag, buttoning the flap firmly closed over it.
'That's theft, you might be interested to know.' Tren was still standing right behind her, watching her actions quite intently. She moved away, crossing to the other side of the room.
'Well, we're on the trail of a murderer. I'd say all's fair.'
'You think this place has anything to do with the man Ed was following?'
'It's possible. See, the only reason I can think of for a sorcerer to track halfway across Orstwych to use a rogue gate is because he was going somewhere specific. Am I right in thinking you can't open a gate to a particular location in the Lowers - just to whichever part of it's closest to you at the time?'
'Right. If I opened a gate right here, we'd end up in the Orstwych woods a couple of miles northwest of where we came through.'
She nodded, pleased. 'I think Ed's mysterious sorcerer was heading for somewhere in this area. Naturally he found it easier to do most of the travelling Above, where the landscape's constant and it's easier to navigate. If that gate's a regular opener, it might not even be a rogue. Maybe it's more like his front door.'
'That's a thought. I don't know if it's possible to cause a 'rogue' gate to re-open itself after it's been closed, but that's because we don't keep permanent portals to the Lowers. It's not permitted. But I imagine it could be done.' She was growing to recognise that look of intent speculation on his face, his thoughts obviously whirling as he pursued the idea.
'Well, the details of how can be examined another time,' she suggested. 'The relevant point is the probable destination of Edwae's friend. Anywhere within about a mile of the gate would seem practical.'
'This is the only building we saw, right?'
'Yes, but don't forget that a lot of things could have been either hidden or not here when we came through. It would be wise to stay in this area through another few changes, see what comes up.'
Tren nodded. 'This place strikes me as a sorc's house, though. It's got that air about it. I wouldn't mind living here myself.'
'When we've defeated our enemy you can take over the tower. Call it another incentive.'
'Generous of you.' Tren stooped to pick something up from the floor. Standing, he showed the object to Eva.
It was a ring of wrought silver. Set into the centre was an indigo-coloured stone that shone faintly silver.
'Istore,' she breathed.
'Looks like it, yep.'
Eva's senses prickled. The atmosphere was changing, the air growing heavier. Crossing to the window, she hung out of the embrasure until she could see to the south. The purple light was fading, drifting away. Something else was taking over, a radiance that held the rippling blue-green changefulness of water.
She swore.
'Tren, we have to go.'
He didn't ask questions. She was out of the window immediately, descending rapidly. Tren followed. They reached ground level within moments, so fast that Eva's palms began to bleed from their contact with the stone. She ignored the pain, looking anxiously across the grass.
'We need to find something that's solid.'
'Right.' He looked around. 'How do you identify “solid” in this place?'
'You don't,' she said despairingly. It was too late; all hint of purple had gone from the skies and the flickering bluish light was growing stronger by the second. She didn't bother to run. There was no point. Instead she to
ok hold of her precious bag, wrapping the strap around her wrist and gripping it tight.
'Keep close to me,' she said.
'What?'
'I think your shirt's about to be ruined.'
She sensed olifers fleeing back into their burrows, insects melting back into the skies. The meadows rippled powerfully, the flowers dissolving.
Then the ground gave way beneath her feet and she fell into deep water.
Chapter Nineteen
Devary arrived at Llandry's door early in the morning. Llandry had been awake for two hours, riveted by the sight of the sun rising outside her window. She longed to be outside to witness this extraordinary event, but there was no balcony, and her experience the evening before made her wary of leaving the Harp. Instead she threw the windows wide open and sat in the window seat, ignoring the chill in the air as darkness gradually melted into day.
Her pendant rested on the low table in the centre of the room. Llandry had taken it out of her cloak pocket as soon as she arrived home and bound it up in cloth and ribbon, concealing the odd lavender-tinged glow that it exuded in this strangely-lit place. She had left it out of her possession knowing that, when it came to it, she would find it hard to give it out of her own hands into Devary's - no matter how willingly offered.
He arrived looking anxious, even guilty. She opened her mouth to tell him about Sigwide's theft but he spoke first.
'Llandry, I'm so sorry - I don't know how - somehow the pendant is gone.' He spoke the last part in a rush. 'I just discovered - I came right away. Are you well? Has anything happened...?' He studied her carefully, looking her up and down as if making sure she was in one piece.
'I'm fine. Sigwide took it.' She explained briefly, leaving out the part about the white-haired woman for now. Devary's face relaxed in relief as she spoke, though he gave the orting a glance of irritation.
'That creature is a liability. I suppose to keep it safe from him, I must wear it. I don't imagine he can spirit it off my neck without alerting me.' He unwrapped the little cloth bundle and fastened the chain around his neck. He smiled at Llandry as the stone disappeared under his shirt.
'We are lucky that nothing too terrible has come of it. And now, I know I promised you that we would see the town, but first I think we must see my friend at the University. Will that be all right?'
Llandry hesitated. She ought to tell him the rest, but he seemed in a hurry to depart. Perhaps they could talk on the way. 'Quite all right,' she answered. Hastily closing the windows, she collected her cloak and donned it. Devary chuckled to see the deep hood shading her eyes, but made no comment.
A small two-wheel carriage waited at the rear of the Silver Harp, with a tall, grey-scaled nivven set into the traces. Devary assisted Llandry into the passenger seat and took up the reins himself, skilfully guiding the vehicle out into the winding streets of Draetre. As they drove, Llandry nibbled a fingernail, undecided. She knew she deserved reproach for her solitary wanderings the night before, so she was reluctant to recount her adventures. But her encounter with the white-haired woman was disturbing. He ought to know. Steeling herself, she interrupted his light-hearted conversation and told him everything. She had some hope that he would dismiss it as unimportant, but of course he didn't. Instead, he was demonstrably uneasy, questioning her minutely as to the particulars.
'Did she tell you her name, or anything about herself?'
'No. I should have thought to ask.'
'Describe her again for me.'
Llandry did so, as closely as she could. Devary frowned, and shook his head.
'Could have been anybody. Did she say why she wanted the pendant?'
'No.'
'Llandry. Did you fly?'
'No.'
'Good. I knew you would have more sense.'
'She guessed where I am from. In fact, I think she may have recognised me. She asked me if I made it. I think... some of those reporters got pictures of me, before Mamma threw them out.'
Devary was silent. At last he said, 'Well then, we had better finish our business quickly.'
Llandry warred with herself, feeling a surge of guilt at his obvious anxiety. She had followed him when she knew she shouldn't, making a burden of herself, and now she had made it worse. But it was humiliating to have to keep apologising for making her own decisions.
He drove for a while in silence. 'I sent a message to your mother last night, informing her of your whereabouts. I also told her I would not be sending you home yet, and that I would ensure that you are safe. It would be ideal if you could refrain from making that harder.'
'Fine. I won't do any more wandering.'
'I am sorry that it must be that way, but it won't last forever. Now, here we are.' He guided the little carriage down an alley, barely wide enough to admit the neat vehicle. Another left turn brought them into a courtyard, inside which a few other carriages were parked. Devary handed her down from the carriage with the utmost politeness, but something in his manner suggested she had annoyed him. Her stomach twisted with miserable anxiety at the idea, and suddenly she was all too inclined to condemn her own behaviour. The notion was frustrating. How long must she rely on others to protect her? And why was Devary's disapproval so painful?
She hid her face in her hood as they passed through a narrow door into a long, oddly winding corridor. Space opened up either side of her, large rooms glimpsed through tall archways as they proceeded rapidly into the heart of the building. She saw bookcases crowded with books and framed with chairs like supplicants before a throne; each chair bore a silent occupant, absorbed in the pages of a volume.
'Where are we?' Her voice emerged startlingly loudly in the hushed atmosphere, echoing off the cool stone walls.
'Draetre's university library.'
'It really doesn't seem large enough to have a university.'
'It's of an unusual kind. Here.' He held open a door for her and she passed through it, registering that Devary locked the door behind them both. She surveyed a chamber smaller than the others they had passed through. A woman sat at a table near the window, studying a large book that lay open before her. The book was evidently very old; its leather covers were tattered and decaying, and its spine was supported upon a soft cushion that lay between it and the desk.
The woman looked up as they entered. Her eyes rested first on Llandry, with a considering stare that made her quite uncomfortable. Apparently around Devary's age, she was clearly Nimdren with her curling chestnut hair and light-coloured eyes. The woman's face changed as she transferred her keen gaze to Devary. She smiled, reluctantly, as if she sought to suppress the expression but it overcame her efforts. She stood up and advanced towards Devary, and he stepped forward to meet her. Llandry noticed that he was wearing the warm smile he'd so often turned on her.
'Indren. It's been far too long.'
'So it has. Your fault for moonlighting so long in Glinnery.' The woman, Indren, smiled all the more as Devary carried her hand to his lips and kissed it lightly.
'And I see you brought one of them back with you.' Indren's eyes, a rather startling pale green, rested again on Llandry.
'Yes, quite an important one. Llandry Sanfaer, Ynara Sanfaer's daughter. You remember Ynara?'
'Yes.' The word was said without inflection, and Llandry wondered whether the recollection was a pleasant one for this stranger.
'Llandry, this is Professor Indren Druaster. She's an expert in Off-World history.'
'Off-Worlds? Both of them?'
'Does that surprise you?' Professor Druaster lifted her brows at Llandry very slightly, laughing at her.
'A little,' mumbled Llandry.
'Nimdre has chained itself to neither, you see, and therefore we may study both with equal attention. Now, what of this trinket?' Professor Druaster turned a winning smile on Devary as she resumed her seat. He sat next to her, gesturing Llandry to a chair opposite.
'It's no trinket.'
'Oh, I
am sorry. I understood that it is an item of Ms. Sanfaer's creation?'
Llandry felt a ripple of annoyance, but the implication of the statement passed Devary by. He sat back comfortably, smiling at Llandry as he opened his travel bag.
'Certainly; it is all of her own work.'
'Ah, the famed arts of Glinnery. How I wish I had a little of your creative talent, my dear.' Llandry bristled at the familiar term. She was not fooled: Indren dripped insincerity. It would not be the first time a scholar had looked down on the arts, but nonetheless Llandry felt nettled.
Devary had found the cloth bundle. He unwrapped it carefully and placed the pendant on the table before Indren. Looking at it, Llandry felt a little soothed. Evidently it was a skilled piece of work, whatever a person's feelings as to the value of the aesthetic.
Indren studied it without touching it. She drew an eyeglass from the belt at her waist and examined the stone very closely. Llandry's eyes wandered back to Devary's face. He watched Indren's procedures with apparent absorption.
'An unusual piece.' Indren lifted her head, and Llandry found herself once again subjected to that sharp gaze. 'Where did this come from?'
Llandry was silent. After a moment Devary stepped in, recounting, briefly, the history of Llandry's gem.
'Istore,' said Indren, when he had finished. Her lips twisted in a smile that held a mocking hint. 'A romantic name. You have no idea at all, I suppose, what it is?'
'Elder Ilae Shuly recommended you as a consultant,' interrupted Devary smoothly.
'Ah, Elder Shuly,' she repeated, with obvious approval. 'There's a sharp mind.' She looked back down at the stone, turning it to the light. 'It certainly doesn't originate from the Middle Realms. If anything I'd say it was from the Uppers, but there's something -' She paused. 'There's something of the Lowers about it, too. I might be inclined to conclude it has its origins in both, were that possible.' She smiled in a small way. 'You should've come to me before, Mr. Kant.' She looked under her lashes at him, with a sort of mock severity that Llandry found quite repulsive. Devary shrugged and laughed.