Llandry

by Charlotte E. English

  My senses prickled in a familiar way, and I was immediately alert. The woodland had seemed friendly and tranquil moments before, but now it began to appear dark and enclosed and bristling with threat. I stood still, sweating with sudden fear as I cast every sense I possessed around me, searching for the source of the sensation of being watched.

  And I found the presence, perhaps thirty-five feet away. I could not see the person, for too many trees and bushes stood between the two of us. But I could feel him. That chill, pale aura reached me much more strongly than it had at the Darklands Market, either because he was closer, or because there were only the two of us present.

  It occurred to me, too late, that if I had been more self-possessed I could have feigned enough nonchalance to wander back the way I had come, thereby putting some distance between me and the hidden Lokant. But I had been standing stock-still and obviously wary for a couple of minutes. If he was watching me, he now knew that I’d spotted him. If I wanted to flee, I would have to run. Or fly, which my back muscles were very much against my doing.

  I didn’t want to fly. Nor did I want to run, entirely. I was afraid, my heart pounding madly as I stood there. But I was also curious, or… something like it. I wanted to know who this person was, and why he was lurking around me. And I am not the person I was last year. I am not helpless.

  I was not fool enough to simply walk up to him and ask him his business, however. I steeled myself and took to the air, ignoring the way my muscles protested. I flew until I was directly over the thicket in which he had hidden himself, and hovered there, looking down.

  ‘I see you,’ I called. Siggy, jolted from his sleep by my movement and receptive to my alarm, stirred in his pack and looked down, too.

  Nothing happened for a moment. Then the leaves rustled and a tall, white-haired figure in a dark red cloak stepped out and stood staring up at me.

  I was making a bit of a gamble with this. I’ve run into full Lokants before, and some of them have terrifying abilities — like, for example, the power to bend other people’s minds to their will, and make you see things that are not there, or do things you do not want to do. Even Eva can do it quite well, though she is only a part-blood. I do not precisely understand how it works, but I know what it feels like, because it has been done to me before. A compulsion settles upon you all the way down to the bones, and you suddenly need to do whatever it is they have asked. It is extremely hard to resist. If they make you see things, that is even scarier, for you do not notice it happening. Draykoni are less susceptible to it than humans, but it can still work on us. I know, because it has worked on me before.

  If this Lokant proved to be strong in that particular art, and chose to turn it against me, I was in trouble. But he had lingered around me more than once, and on this occasion, he could have overpowered my reason before I even knew he was there. He hadn’t, and that led me to think that he wasn’t interested in doing so.

  Now I would find out whether I had been shrewd, or stupid.

  We stared at each other in silence for several agonising moments, and I began to worry that I had badly misjudged him. What could he be doing save gathering himself for some kind of assault on my will?

  But none came. ‘If you would come down?’ he called.

  ‘Would you, if you were me?’

  I thought he smiled, though I was far enough above him that it was difficult to tell. Come to think of it, was I even sure it was a he? Something about the height, and the breadth of the shoulders beneath the cloak, suggested so.

  ‘I imagine not,’ he said, and held up his hands to show how empty they were.

  ‘You are unarmed! Excellent. Of course, one with your abilities need not carry sharp sticks in order to be dangerous.’

  ‘I promise, I have come with no intention of harming you.’

  I was getting tired, hanging up there. Hovering isn’t an easy thing to do, even when I am not already weary. But I didn’t want to let that show. ‘What is your business?’ I demanded. ‘Seeing as you have trailed me all the way from Glour City, I assume it must be something important.’

  My muscles really are in poor shape. They complained, loudly. In the process, I lost control of my flight a little, and sank a few feet.

  ‘A bit more, and we can have a proper conversation.’ The Lokant reached up to me encouragingly, as though I might drop into his grasp.

  What nonsense.

  I did the only reasonable thing, under the circumstances. I kicked the living daylights out of his hands, and landed as far away from him as I could.

  ‘Well, I deserved that,’ said the Lokant, hiding his hands in his pockets.

  ‘Emphatically.’ I clutched Siggy and glared at the intruder, feeling more than a little cross. What did he mean by following me around?

  To my relief, he did not try to approach me. He stood several feet away and looked me over, with an air of curiosity.

  It was a scrutiny I returned, though I quickly began to wish that I had not. Most of the full Lokants I have met before have been elderly, or even ancient, but this one was different. He was tall and broad-shouldered, as I had discerned before. I now saw that his skin was slightly tanned in that golden way; his hair, just long enough to brush his shoulders, was glossy and the pure white of new snow; his eyes were very dark indeed, which was a startling effect against the white hair; and his face had the kind of perfect symmetry of feature rarely seen outside of a painting.

  He smiled at me, and my heart sank about five miles down.

  And I felt a surge of irritation. It is one thing to be followed about by an enigmatic Lokant who might have the power to crush me if he so chose. It is going altogether too far to give him a perfect face as well. There is no better combination for making me feel utterly, infuriatingly inadequate.

  So I stood there, even more tongue-tied than usual and quietly fuming. When he made no effort to explain his purpose, I walked past him and away.

  ‘Wait!’ he shouted, and ran after me. ‘I realise this is all a bit strange, but I really do need to talk to you.’

  ‘It’s more than a bit strange,’ I retorted, anger beginning to get the better of my reticence. ‘Following me almost to my front door goes far past strange! It goes a long way past creepy, too, and ends up somewhere around incredibly scary.’ If Eva was right and Limbane’s lot knew of some way to permanently kill a draykon, how could I welcome the fact that a hitherto unknown one was now wandering around in Iskyr, and specifically following me?

  ‘I know,’ he said, and I had to admit that he had a beautiful voice on top of all his other gifts, which only irritated me more. ‘I am sorry. But I realise you have had some difficult experiences with my kind before, and… I did not know how to approach you.’

  That stopped me. I stared at him and then wished I hadn’t, for I received another dose of his aggravatingly extreme beauty and felt very much like punching him.

  ‘How could you possibly know that?’ I said.

  He looked sheepish. ‘I… well, I heard about you from my grandfather.’

  Oh, no.

  ‘And who is your grandfather?’ I said in a dangerous tone. I could think of two possibilities. One was Limbane, the leader of the Library where I had been trained. He and Eva had been colleagues for a while — even friends, or something like it. But that had all ended, by the time the war was over.

  Then there was Krays, another Library chief, and one of Limbane’s main rivals. He was behind a slew of detestable schemes and caused us a great deal of trouble, until Pense digested him. Disgusting, but Krays fully deserved it.

  ‘Limbane Erritas.’

  Well. I cannot exactly welcome a grandson of either gentleman, particularly when he insists on following me around and spying on me. But if he had said Krays, I really wouldn’t have spoken so much as another syllable to him.

  I looked him over, and didn’t spot anything that appeared as though he might be planning to attack me with it. ‘You have two minutes to explain.’
>
  He nodded, and visibly took a deep breath. ‘I need your help.’

  ‘What.’

  He stepped a little closer, which I did not like. I backed up. I definitely wanted to keep some distance between the two of us.

  He stopped, and held up his hands. ‘My grandfather has spoken of you, and your friends. I know you were the first draykoni of modern times, and as such you must be among the most adept.’

  ‘That last point is debatable, but all right. Why should that interest you?’

  ‘Well, I…’ he hesitated, staring at me in a fashion I found uncomfortably intense. ‘I need a teacher,’ he finally stated.

  That… wasn’t exactly what I was expecting. I could only blink stupidly at him. ‘You need a… a teacher? For what?’

  He seemed uncomfortable, and unsure of how to proceed. Oddly, I found this reassuring. I suppose I like it when other people are as awkward as I can be. It makes me feel a little bit less strange. ‘Let me start from the beginning,’ he said.

  ‘If you can do it quickly.’ The two minutes I had allotted were already up, and he was dithering. I wanted to be safely back in Nuwelin, and I really wanted to find Pense returned once I got there. This creepy idiot was holding me up.

  As though he could read my thoughts, he gave me a nice, reassuring smile. I found it anything but. ‘My name is Gio. I am the son of Nathe, son of Erritas Limbane. And my mother…’

  ‘Your mother?’ I prompted, when he hesitated.

  ‘My mother was a draykon.’

  ‘That’s not possible.’ I said it instantly, and instinctively, before I even paused to think about it. But on reflection, I wouldn’t take it back. My people had been extinct for centuries. How could he possibly have been born of a draykon mother?

  He smiled faintly. ‘I assure you, it is.’

  I stated my objections to the plausibility of his assertion, all of which he listened to with polite attention. He then merely said: ‘Just because they were extinct here, does not mean there cannot have been some stray one or two still living somewhere else.’

  Such as, inside one of the several Lokant Libraries. That is possible, I suppose, but I have to wonder: Why had Limbane never mentioned it?

  That’s not such an obvious question as it sounds. In my experience, the Lokants have always been almost pathologically secretive, and not at all given to handing out information unless they have a clear motive for doing so. Nonetheless, considering how very relevant that information would have been a few moons ago, I do find the whole thing difficult to believe.

  But Gio had no insight to offer on this point. When I put the question to him, he merely shrugged. ‘My grandfather is not very forthcoming.’

  That’s an understatement.

  I folded my arms. ‘Supposing that to be true, it still doesn’t explain what you want with me.’

  ‘I need a teacher,’ he said again. ‘Who better to ask than you?’

  ‘How about your mother?’

  ‘I cannot. She is… um, gone. She left when I was a baby.’

  Uh huh. I eyed him with undisguised suspicion. ‘You need a teacher for what? There are whole colleges devoted to the studies of Sorcery and Summoning. Try Glinnery, or better yet Nimdre. Practically any one of the Seven, in fact.’

  Gio shook his head impatiently. ‘Those colleges are built around a misunderstanding of the source of those arts. Are they not? And as such, they barely scratch the surface of what is possible with the kinds of powers we are talking about. I want to learn from somebody who knows just how limited it is to split it all up into two distinct groups of abilities with their own little labels — two mutually exclusive groups, supposedly, as though one can have only one set of powers or the other! The whole thing is a lesson in how badly wrong it is possible to go if only one is ignorant enough. Those schools are of no use to me.’

  And so, he casually trashed the entire group worth of the system I was born into and brought up under. The system that had trained my mother, my friends… his attitude did not endear him to me.

  At the same time, he was perfectly right. We had got it all wrong, and I could not quite blame him for rejecting such a misguided course of study. I have no doubt that the colleges will rectify their errors, and learn, and come to offer much more effective teaching. But that will take time.

  ‘There are still people far better qualified to teach you than I,’ I told him firmly. ‘For a start, what I know about my arts is as nothing compared to the level of understanding the ancients possess. Ask one of those.’

  ‘I am approaching you as an individual, and also your group. Your numbers do include one or two genuine ancients, do they not?’

  I eyed him with grave misgivings. He had been following me, and he knew more about my doings and those of Nuwelin than I was comfortable with. ‘So you’ve been watching us for a while. Why? And why sneak about like this? Could you not have sent me a letter or something?’

  His handsome mouth twisted into a faintly ironic smile. ‘How is the mail delivery up here? Reliable?’

  For a moment, I had forgotten that I no longer have access to such civilised things. I didn’t want to admit that to this peculiar stranger, though, so I merely glared at him.

  He shrugged. ‘I did write to your old address, in Waeverleyne. I have to assume that you did not receive it?’

  ‘I have not been home in a while.’ To my dismay. I made a mental note to make time to visit my parents as soon as possible.

  Gio nodded. ‘So, I came looking for you.’

  ‘You could have approached me at the Darklands Market.’

  ‘Ah! You did see me. I wondered.’ He smiled ruefully at me, and did an awkward little shuffle combined with an apologetic cough. ‘I meant to, but I… lost my nerve.’

  ‘You lost your nerve? How is that possible?’

  ‘Well… the two of you were busy and happy and there were a lot of people around.’ He blinked, and shrugged. ‘It seemed like a poor time.’

  I sensed uncertainty, more than he was telling me. Which frankly flabbergasted me. I am so used to being the one wallowing in uncertainty, I do not know what to do when faced with someone who can manage to feel that uncertain around me.

  And he really, really does not look like somebody who has any business being socially awkward. I stared at his irritatingly perfect face in amazed silence for a while, until I realised what I was doing and went back to admiring the floor.

  Until something else occurred to me, and I looked up with a frown. ‘You don’t feel like a draykon,’ I told him. Probably a bit more accusingly than I had meant to.

  That got me nothing more than a confused stare in response, though, and no wonder. I hadn’t exactly expressed myself clearly. ‘In what way?’

  ‘Your… just, the way you appear to me in my, uh, other senses.’ I looked at him with my mind’s eye, so to speak, and he was as before: a cool and pale presence, with none of the colour or the energy I would expect from somebody with such significant draykon blood.

  ‘I don’t know what to tell you,’ he said, helplessly. ‘I am what I am.’

  Unhelpful. I thought about that for a while, without reaching any useful conclusions. How could he be half draykoni without my being able to sense any part of it? Did it mean his story was false, or was it simply that this was new territory for me? I had never before met anybody with so much Lokant blood, and draykon heritage. Perhaps the Lokant heritage merely runs so strong as to largely drown out the rest.

  ‘Well, so,’ said Gio, more gently. ‘Can you help me?’

  I was still going to say no. I didn’t understand where it made sense to him to follow me around, if he hadn’t wanted to approach me directly, and the fact that he had managed to follow me all the way up here was bizarre and not at all comforting.

  Then I got an idea.

  I know that sounds ominous. It was, a bit. I thought back to our errand to Eva’s in hopes of accessing Limbane’s Library. She could not help us, but here was noth
ing short of Limbane’s own grandson, clearly a powerful Lokant in his own right (albeit only of part-blood, if he was to be believed), and begging for my help.

  ‘I have a problem on my hands,’ I told him.

  He just looked at me, waiting.

  I debated how much to tell him. ‘I need access to your grandfather’s Library. There is some information I believe he has which I have need of, and I can find nowhere else.’

  Gio nodded.

  I squinted at him, suspicious. Just a nod? No questions, no conditions? ‘That’s it?’

  He smiled, horribly earnest. ‘I can help you with that.’

  ‘Aren’t you going to ask me why?’

  He shook his head. ‘I imagine you would tell me, if you wanted to.’

  Hmm. ‘It’s the timeline chamber that I need,’ I hazarded. ‘The chart room?’ I wasn’t sure if he would know what I meant. How familiar was he with Limbane’s domain? But he nodded again, apparently unfazed by the demand.

  ‘When would you like to go?’ he said, all affability.

  I wanted to go at once, but I was not so foolhardy. After all, Gio was still a total stranger, and one whose behaviour so far could hardly be called ordinary.

  Feeling encouraged by his helpfulness, I added, ‘I also need to talk to your grandfather.’ I mean, what luck was this? A close relative of Limbane’s dropping into my hands, begging to be useful in exchange for some assistance of mine. It was too lucky really, and my celebratory impulse was quickly dampened by yet more suspicion. But if it was typical Lokant manipulative trickery... no reason why I couldn’t at least try to turn it to our advantage.

  This second request provoked a more cautious response. ‘Ah... I can probably arrange that, yes,’ he said, but he sounded doubtful.

  I felt undecided. Part of me still wanted to dismiss him altogether, but I got the sense that he wouldn’t just meekly disappear. I did not want to think of him wandering about on the edges of our home, unaccounted for, doing who-knew-what and maybe spying on us. I didn’t really want to take him back to Nuwelin with me, either. It was useful to know that he could win us access to Limbane’s Library, but was that prospect sufficient to agree to his request? How could any of us know if he could be trusted?