I wasn’t surprised, though, to find that she was human when we reached her. She makes a proud, beautiful draykoness, with glittering purple scales and faintly golden claws. But she still adopts the shape unwillingly, and I suspect with lingering doubts as to her ability to maintain it, or to use it appropriately.
She is somewhere in her mid-thirties, I believe. I haven’t ever asked her age. She has dark, gently curling hair and dark eyes, with the pale skin of the Darklanders who’ve never seen the sun. She also has a mild, sweet smile, which she turned on us the moment we drew close enough to greet her.
She came first to me, which pleased me perhaps more than it should have. I Changed human and hugged her gladly. She’s a good woman. Her two-year-old son, Lyerd, was with her, and he of course ran straight to Ori, smiling and holding up his arms. Ori scooped him up at once and swung him around, and instantly began some kind of game which involved a lot of giggling. He is adorable with children.
Pense hung back, silent and watchful, though he shifted human out of respect to Avane. I don’t know whether he was unsure of his welcome, or merely taking the time to thoroughly check the environs for potential threats. Perhaps a bit of both, because Avane has been harbouring a secret (or not so secret) fear of Pense ever since they first met. He is draykon to the core, and even in human shape, his otherness is clear.
I waited while Avane greeted Ori, and took a moment to make my own observations. We had found Avane walking through a little village, so small as to scarcely deserve the name. I could see little of it, merely the looming, shadowy shapes of tallish structures in the darkness. Only one other person appeared to be in residence at the time, an elderly woman with skin as pale as Avane’s and a fall of grey hair. She came to greet us, her lined face alight with curiosity, and was introduced as Wrima. I sensed a draykon soul in her, even if she was fully human at that moment.
‘Oh,’ murmured Avane, and conjured a light-globe to assist us. It shone faintly, so as not to hurt Avane’s or Wrima’s Darklander eyes, but it was bright enough to illuminate the houses closest to us. I counted six houses in a cluster, each one eccentric in design, and made from a haphazard array of materials. They were clearly human dwellings, sized for creatures of our height and proportions and fitted with staircases, doors and suchlike.
Always sensitive to unspoken things, Avane noticed our tension. ‘What is it?’ she said softly, and glanced around with a touch of trepidation. ‘This is not a social visit, is it? Has something happened?’
‘Tell us at once, if you please,’ said Wrima. Her tone was calmer than Avane’s, but I sensed a protectiveness about her. She had taken Avane under her wing, then. I am glad of it, for she strikes me as a steady soul.
Pense looked at me, and said nothing. Well, he was right. If Avane must hear such news, it had better come from me or Ori rather than Pense. Since Ori was still occupied with entertaining Lyerd, I indulged myself in a soft sigh and a pang of regret that such an unpleasant duty must fall to me. ‘May we sit somewhere?’
Avane led us to one of the shadowy houses, her little white light-globe bobbing along over our heads. The house was warm inside, and she had fitted up a sitting-room with comfortable furnishings. I curled up beside Pense upon a low sofa, and launched into the tale.
It took a little while to explain everything, for I had to start at the beginning, with the discovery of Eterna’s mother’s body in Iskyr. When I came to the twelve subsequent corpses, poor Avane turned stark white, her dark eyes enormous.
‘They are less than ten miles away,’ I concluded. ‘We came straight here. We were on our way to consult you anyway, and we were concerned for your safety.’
Avane exchanged a look with Wrima. ‘Last eve…’ said Avane, and faltered. She seemed unable to go on, so Wrima took up the tale.
‘Last eve,’ the old lady repeated. ‘Something strange happened with the Changes. They have been regular around here ever since we settled, and we have had no trouble maintaining the village through the shifts. But about… oh, twelve or thirteen hours ago, the landscape flipped through eight changes in about half an hour, and everything was so badly unsettled we felt alarmed. Then that stopped, and…’ She frowned, and glanced again at Avane. ‘Near as we can tell, there have been no Changes since. Certainly not here, and not for quite a radius. That’s where the rest of the village has gone. They’re out looking for the source.’
Ori spoke up. ‘That coincides with what we observed in Iskyr, more or less, though it sounds wider spread. Up there, the circular patch of ground that’s been drained no longer Changes, but everything around it seems unaffected.’
Wrima nodded slowly. ‘Perhaps a matter of scale,’ she offered. ‘Whatever was done to those poor souls must have been powerful, to say the least, if it could drain twelve of them like that. More than powerful enough to have a knock-on effect on the wider area.’
‘Up to a point,’ Pense said quietly. ‘We saw a Change as we flew in. The site was underwater to begin with, and then the flowers came in.’
Avane gathered her son into her arms and held onto him. She was worried, of course, but she gradually calmed and her face turned thoughtful instead. ‘That is likely the first Change since it happened, then,’ she said. ‘And that is interesting. You said northwest?’
Pense nodded. ‘Northwest, westish. About ten of your miles, as Llan has said.’
‘Mm.’ Avane thought a little.
Pense, too, was lost in thought. Silence fell among the rest of us as we each turned over the problem in our own minds. ‘You did not see or hear of anybody unusual in these parts?’ I said at last, to Avane and Wrima.
Both women shook their heads. ‘When the chaos began, we did wonder,’ said Avane. ‘But it was too extreme to conduct a search at the time. We couldn’t even fly. Whatever occurred disrupted our sense of space so badly, we couldn’t even tell which way was up anymore. We went straight out when it settled, but we found nothing and no one. I suppose they had already gone.’
Something about those words tugged at my memory, but I could not immediately think of what she had reminded me of. I hate that.
‘I believe I note a possible connection,’ said Pense slowly. All eyes turned upon him, and he smiled faintly. ‘You human hereditaries have been calling us ancients, but we are not all equally aged. Eterna is far older than I am. Her mother must have been older still, and Ludino and Myir likewise. I cannot speak for the ages of the other victims, but three, at least, were among the most aged of our kind.’
An interesting point to note, but not one that can shed any light immediately. ‘Is it true that the elder draykoni are more powerful?’ I asked Pense.
He shook his head, but then hesitated. ‘It is not as simple as that, though there is something in what you say. The eldest of us are certainly the most practiced, the most skilled, the most adept. And they… after so many ages of existence, they wield depths of the amasku that younger souls cannot reach. So in that respect, yes.’
Which did not answer the question, either, but it did alarm me a little more. What manner of draykon was so powerful as to be able to destroy Elders — and twelve of them at once, no less?
‘The twelve,’ I said, frowning. ‘They must have been slain while still in the Long Sleep, surely.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Pense. ‘Perhaps not.’
I sighed and leaned upon Pensould, who was kind enough to put his arm around me.
‘Who could it possibly be?’ said Ori. He sat opposite me, leaning forward with his elbows upon his knees, directing a deep frown at the floor. ‘I cannot believe it of any of the draykoni we know.’
‘Maybe Eterna’s people,’ said Avane grimly. The dark tone was unusual from her, and I remembered that Ori and I were not the only ones left with a lasting distrust of Eterna following the war.
‘But her mother,’ said Ori. ‘Her mother was the first victim.’
‘So it was probably not Eterna herself,’ Avane agreed. ‘But there are, what, thirty
or forty ancients up there with her?’
‘But there are more possibilities,’ said Wrima. ‘It is tempting to think of ourselves, our own colonies, and Eterna’s people as encompassing the whole of active draykon-kind, but that is probably not true.’
‘Right,’ agreed Ori. ‘Limbane thought only three of us would have enough draykon-blood to Change, but they were wrong. Already there are several more, and we no longer have any idea how many there will be in total. And we have long since lost track of all the ancients who have revived. It could be some other group entirely, of whom we know nothing. Maybe it’s a territorial thing, or some kind of power contest.’
Pense stiffened beside me. ‘No,’ he said, softly but firmly. ‘No such contest would result in such a massacre.’
‘Then who could have?’ I said, trying to be gentle. ‘You must acknowledge, this kind of manipulation of the amasku is specific to the draykoni. Who else could drain it in such a fashion, and so lastingly?’
Pense shrugged, but I felt his stubbornness. He does not want to believe his own kind capable of such an atrocity, and I cannot blame him for that. But the possibility of monstrosities does not obligingly go away, just because we are unwilling to face it.
Moreover, just because there appears to be a pattern emerging in favour of ancients as the preferred targets, it doesn’t follow that the rest of us are in no danger.
‘How many people do you have with you down here?’ I said.
‘Eight in total,’ Avane replied. ‘Including Wrima and I.’
‘Any ancients?’
‘One.’
I frowned, troubled, for that does not seem like enough to keep Avane and Lyerd safe.
But Avane guessed at my thoughts, and shook her head. ‘This is no time to worry,’ she said firmly. ‘Twelve ancients slain together, at least some of which were Elders? Even had we twenty ancients with us, it would not necessarily stand against the force that is capable of such a massacre. Numbers are not the answer. Remember that the perpetrators were within ten miles of us last eve, and did not even approach us. For the present, at least, it does not appear that we are in any danger.’
That is a reassuring reflection. For that matter, the body of Eterna’s mother lies not so far from Nuwelin, but we have not been targeted either. I must trust that this conflict, whatever the source may be, is not aimed at us. Not yet.
But I remain concerned for Pense, and for Nyden. They are ancients. Who can tell whether they are likely to be in danger? Until we know the reasons behind these attacks and can understand the rationale behind the choices of targets, I cannot be easy in my mind about the two of them.
But neither would thank me for interfering. I made a private resolve to speak to my fellow part-bloods upon our return to Nuwelin. We need not make a show of our concern, but I dare say we can arrange to keep a closer eye upon Pense and Nyden between us. Just to be on the safe side.
24 VII
We Seek Help From a Higher Power.
So here we have a mystery, and no clues. That is not how it is supposed to go. In the books, there is always some handy hint that the detective picks up early on, even if its meaning is not immediately clear. Every fresh mystery that arises comes with its own convenient clue attached, so I call it mighty unfair that this one is still so impenetrable.
But a useful person does not simply wait for clues to materialise. If information is lacking, the wise person goes to wherever information is likely to be found.
I have a friend in Glour. Her name is Evastany, Lady Glostrum, and she is a part-blood Lokant.
They are a race of beings far more ancient than we are. In fact they claim to have created both draykoni and humans alike, which sounds far-fetched to me, but perhaps it is true. They are capable of many remarkable things, like instantaneous travel over shockingly large distances, and limited control over the minds of others. They are addicted to knowledge, and tend to congregate in vast structures they call “Libraries” — not an unfitting term, considering they are stuffed to the gills with books and the like. But there is a lot more to those places than just shelves of tomes. Time passes strangely within, in that it barely passes at all. Perhaps it doesn’t. Perhaps it is entirely static.
There is something else, too. I spent some time in one of those Libraries, not so long ago. It is where I was trained to Change, and where we taught Ori and Avane, too. In the Library of the Lokant known as Limbane, there is an enormous room whose walls are covered in a vast timeline of descent. It is like an unfathomably huge family tree, or more like five thousand of them linked together.
Since we know the identity of three of the slain draykoni, it might be useful to research their family trees. Particularly since the pattern emerging seems to be in favour of ancients, and even Elders, being targeted the most. I would be intrigued to know whether the three we know of are contemporaries of one another, and which era they hail from.
I came to wondering whether Eva has retained any contacts among those Libraries.
I shared these thoughts with Pense, Ori and Avane, and we were soon agreed that a visit to Eva might prove fruitful.
‘I wonder if there are more,’ Avane mused when I had done.
‘More what?’ My mind was focused on Eva and Lokants. ‘More Libraries?’
Avane blinked at me. ‘More... victims.’
Oh. More corpses. Of course.
The thought sickened me. Thirteen was terrible enough, but she was right. There could be many more.
‘There will have to be a search,’ I said. ‘After we get back from Glour.’
But Pense shook his head. ‘It had better be done soon. Go with Ori into Glour. I will return to Nuwelin and organise a search.’
He looked at Avane, who nodded her agreement. ‘My people are few, but we will do what we can here, too.’
I did not love the idea of Pense making his way back to Nuwelin alone, under the circumstances. Nor did I love the idea of being separated from him, even if I would have Ori with me. I wanted to shriek don’t leave me, but I swallowed the impulse. The fact that I felt it at all tells me that I have been growing dependent upon him to prop me up, and that is unacceptable.
And he was right, too. ‘Very well. Ori with me!’
Ori, of course, had no objection to make. He was peppily enthusiastic at the prospect of seeing Eva and Tren again, and full of an inexhaustible energy which would make nothing of the journey. I love Ori and his cheerful nature so much. He is a delight.
I remembered something else, too, that I could get done while I was in Glour. Ivi approached me recently with a request which, at the time, I did not know how to comply with. ‘Llandry, I need to talk to you. We are run through our stock of larras-grass seed, if you can contrive to get us some more. And I want to arrange to start trading litorns. They’ve taken well in the north-west glades and we’ll have enough to begin selling or bartering within, I should think, two or three moons.’
This last was good news, since the litorn mushrooms are always in demand in the Seven. They have useful pain-killing properties, but they have always been difficult to grow down there, even in the sunlit Daylander realms. We should be able to get something useful back for those. I didn’t really want to think about it just then, not with my mind full of a bigger, more dramatic problem. But Ivi was right to raise the topic. The more ordinary requirements of our daily life in Iskyr would not obligingly disappear just because we had other things to deal with.
I took out the notebook I always carry about with me these days, and wrote the two requests down. I cannot manage without that book anymore. I would forget everything.
I can probably get larras-seed at the Glour market, which ought to be running soon. You can buy practically anything there. And Lady Glostrum has links with the government in Glour. As a Darklander realm, it is completely incapable of growing litorns at all. They quickly wither and die without full, strong sunlight around the clock. As such, they may well be interested in our fledgling supply.
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br /> Ori was itching to go, and we had no time to waste. I had time only to bestow a quick, albeit fervent, embrace upon Pense by way of farewell, and to bestow Sigwide upon him for conveyance to Larion. I felt guilty as I did so. Siggy grows unhappy if he is separated from me for too long, and to be truthful, the same is true in reverse. He has been my loyal companion since I was a child, and as such, he is a vital part of my life. But I have come to a sad realisation recently.
Siggy is finally beginning to grow old.
I don’t see why that should surprise me. I found him as a baby when I was but nine, so he is nearly twelve years old. His age is not yet so advanced as to cause him much inconvenience, and he can be lively enough. But he tires more easily than he used to, and I am beginning to worry about him.
Hence, if I expect to be absent from home for days at a time and I am unsure if I can care for him properly, I will leave him in Nuwelin.
Ori watched me undertake the bestowal of Sigwide with an amused smile, in response to which I could only stick out my tongue. He likes to tease me about my devotion to Siggy, but he can be just as bad, and we both know it. He has an orboe friend called Graaf. If you have never seen an orboe, let me tell you: they are nothing like Siggy. They are fast, vicious, and not usually friendly.
None of this matters to Ori. He treats Graaf like an oversized orting, and to be fair, Graaf tends to behave like one when Ori is around. They are not inseparable. I have seen nothing of the orboe since Ori returned, so I presume he is off on one of his hunting-and-marauding adventures. But he always comes back, and Ori is always delighted to see him when he does.
Anyway, the bestowal of Sigwide and other necessities being complete, Ori and I shifted draykon and set off. I could not help but focus on the receding sense of Pensould as we left, and had to swallow my dismay. I tell myself that it is not wholly about dependency, which may sound like an excuse but it is perfectly true. I love Pense. He is my other half, and I hate being separated from him.
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