‘That’s Nyden,’ I told her.
Avane frowned. ‘Nyden-who-never-shapeshifts? That Nyden?’
‘It was an emergency.’
‘I think he has fainted, too,’ said Avane, holding him gingerly now that she knew who he was.
Nyden’s tail twitched at that, an irritated little swish, but he made no move to extricate himself. I do not faint, he informed us severely. I may occasionally lose consciousness in an impeccably masculine fashion, but swooning I absolutely decline to do. He glanced up at Avane’s face, and paused. Unless, of course, I am cradled in the arms of the most beautiful woman alive. With which comment, smoothly uttered, he made a creditable impression of a graceful swoon and hung limp in her hands.
You aren’t too badly hurt, then, I said, feeling just a little peevish.
He made no reply, nor did he move when Avane gently shook him. I cautiously probed him with my other senses, and discerned slowed heartbeat, sluggish energy and only the barest flicker of residual life about him.
‘I... I think he really has fainted,’ said Avane.
‘Just put him down,’ I recommended. ‘You need to change your shape before your eyes burn out.’
‘But... won’t he be in danger? He is hurt, he needs tending to.’
‘He’ll be fine.’
Nyden’s tail lashed like a little whip, and he growled. Spoilsport, he muttered resentfully.
You make a wonderful damsel in distress, I retorted, and sat down. I hadn’t entirely meant to sit down, but my knees refused to hold me up anymore, and the rest of my body generally agreed that being recumbent might be nice. I smiled up at Avane, cuddled Sigwide close, and barely noticed when my eyes drifted shut.
She’s going to swoon, too, warned Nyden, and I wanted to object that I do not do swooning either, and had no intention of breaking my general policy just then. But I had lost the energy to speak, or move, or think. So I just sat and held Sigwide, and allowed the floods of conflicting feelings to wash over me as they would. I didn’t notice I was crying until Siggy’s nose touched my cheek, and his little tongue poked out to lap at a falling tear.
It will be all right, he told me.
I looked at the devastation of Orlind and the gaping space where the Library had once stood, and at that moment I only felt doubt. Would it? Will it? Only time can tell.
25 VIII
Our Adventure Draws to a Close.
And I Fob Off a Problem Upon Eva.
I am running out of space in this journal; only a handful of pages remain to be filled. But I am nearing the end of this particular tale, and soon it will be time to put this book into Eva’s hands and begin another.
I have not had chance to write much for some days. The last, oh, many pages were written as I recovered, and that is a process which lasted a while. I cannot describe the extent of my weariness following the explosion, nor the physical toll those days took upon my body, but I was useless for some time afterwards. Pense and Ori were little better.
Ny made a great drama out of it, of course. I may never walk again, he declared, when he was recovered enough to regain his usual shape. I shall be a cripple for all of my days.
Whether or not you will forever be a cripple, you will always be a baby. That was Meriall of course, with her customary lack of sympathy for Nyden. I did not altogether agree. Ny has to exaggerate; that’s the way he is. But the pain he suffered is no laughing matter, and small wonder if he was overcome by it for a time.
Avane will never love me, he wailed tragically.
Meriall was unmoved. Avane will never love you anyway.
Nyden sniffled and whimpered and sighed for days, but since he used the situation to shamelessly cadge sympathy and hugs off all of us, I do not think he suffered too terribly in the end.
We returned to Nuwelin, leaving Orlind to the temporary custodianship of Avane and of Eterna, and what was left of her people. We slept for days together, and when that period was over, I woke and ate and wrote and slept until I had recorded everything for Eva.
And then we cleaned up Orlind.
By the time we returned to the island, Eterna had already seen to the removal of those of her folk who were slain in the conflict. None of the dead were ours, to my relief, nor Avane’s either, but there had been injuries aplenty among our colonies and those took their time and tending to mend, too. We went to the island at last as a united force, half expecting to have to wrest control of it from Eterna.
But we found her in an unusually subdued mood. She even nodded her head to us as we landed, and made no move either to oppose our arrival, or to stake any claim over the territory.
It will take much, to restore this place. She looked out over the island, still littered with the broken remnants of the Library, one side half-submerged under the onrushing sea. Is it your wish to make the attempt?
It is, I told her.
Then it is for you to try, for it is not mine. Not ours. She stretched her wings to the sky and beat them once, slowly, her nostrils twitching as she tested the scents of the air. I should have listened to you, she said at last.
Such a concession from Eterna surprised me extremely. And it humbled me, considering how convinced I had been of her guilt; how much I had hoped that she was behind everything, because it was easier.
I should have been quicker to forgive, I told her in reply.
She looked at me, and I thought I saw the barest hint of a nod from her. It might have been my imagination.
That was all. She turned her back on us, and soon afterwards her colony took to the skies. We watched as they rose and rose, spiralling into the clouds above Orlind. Then they vanished, flashing through into Iskyr in the blink of an eye.
‘That was unexpected,’ said Meriall.
I had no answer to make. Eterna had paid dearly for her realisation, for it was the second such costly mistake she had made. I could only hope that she would remember this in years to come, and be slower to turn to violence.
And I hope I will remember this in years to come, too, and be less inexorable.
We arrived in Orlind with one pressing question to be answered: was the Library truly the source of the island’s disturbance, and would its removal take the disruption away with it? A few days ought to have been enough to allow the tumultuous swirl of energies to settle, or so we hoped.
We knew the answer as soon as we set foot there, for the difference was striking. Maybe too striking, for instead of the mess and the madness we encountered an environment eerily… dead.
Well, not wholly dead. Amasku flowed still, but weakly, faded almost beyond perception. What there was, though, flowed pure and sweet and true, and my heart lifted. We remained a while, steeping ourselves in that delicious flow, letting it strengthen our bodies and our resolve alike.
We can do this, I said at last, but it will take much. Who is with me?
Pense I knew I could count on, a confidence he swiftly confirmed. Always, Minchu, he told me, and my heart glowed.
‘We can give it a spin,’ said Meriall, ostensibly with indifference, but I knew her by now. That was a sparkle of interest in her eyes, and she looked around with as much satisfaction as dismay, intrigued by the prospect of a challenge. I smiled at her, and she gave me a tiny salute in reply.
‘Yes,’ said Larion, laconic as ever, but it was all I needed.
My people are in agreement, said Avane, her draykon eyes shaded and dark. I knew it would be hard for her and the rest of Anshalin, here in the Daylands, but I was touched and grateful that they were willing to bear the discomfort. Avane had developed some way of adjusting her eyes when shapeshifted, which filtered out just enough light to make it bearable for her. I hoped it would be enough.
Sophronia had yet to get over her indignation at Eterna’s behaviour and subsequent departure; not even her reluctant concession could evoke the smallest forgiveness in her heart. But she set that aside enough to offer her support, and I was satisfied.
Everyone of Nuwelin jo
ined our venture, to my delight and relief. Only Ivi hesitated, clearly disconcerted by the barrenness of the place.
We will make it thrive, I told her, hoping my confidence would not prove to be misplaced.
Then you will need me, said Ivi sourly.
I smiled inwardly, for it was enough.
Ny had to be difficult about it, of course. He had got over his ordeal enough to cross the seas on the wing, but he was not yet ready to relinquish his claim to sympathy, and walked with an ostentatious limp when he thought himself observed.
Now he sprawled all over the bare earth of Orlind, disgustedly twitching his tail out of a pile of splintered rocks. It is not much, is it? he drawled with palpable disdain. With new accommodation one expects somewhere good to bathe, at least. And there is nothing to eat.
I took the tip of his tail in my claws and pinched. Hard.
Ow, he whined.
We all know you will help us, I said. We are relying upon it, since you are the only Elder we have.
Nyden sighed and flopped down, lying fully prone in a posture of utter defeat. Fine, he said grumpily. I would rather be frolicking among the daeflies in Iskyr, but if it pleases all of you…
I released his tail and patted it gently. Avane will be here a while, I reminded him privately. That worked a treat, for he looked up at her with a glint of interest in his dark eyes, the tip of one long fang mischievously protruding.
Ori was with us that day, along with Gio, because the two of them were inseparable. Poor Gio had suffered badly for a few days, expecting a rebuke or outright rejection from everybody he met in Nuwelin. It had finally sunk in that he was neither resented nor unwelcome, and then… he had completely transformed. All his careful composure, his distance, his reticence disappeared and he could hardly do enough for any of us. He was quick to offer his aid to the project, quicker even than Ori.
I Changed human to speak to him, and surprised myself as much as him by giving him a hug. ‘Actually,’ I said, ‘I have another task for you, and for Ori. If you’re willing. There is something else needing to be done, and only you can help with that.’
Gio’s smile faded a little, and I imagined he knew exactly what I meant. ‘If I can,’ he said. ‘You know you may rely on me.’
I felt bad for asking it of him. All he wanted was to settle with Ori, as far away from his old life as possible, and be happy. But I couldn’t allow it; not yet. Because we are not done here.
Dwinal showed up but once, after poor Galy’s death and the explosion of the Library. She and Hyarn looked around the shattered island with approval, and they actually had the gall to congratulate us.
‘Quick and efficient work, Miss Sanfaer,’ Dwinal commended me.
Fevered with weariness and pain and grief as I still was, I felt in no mood to accept her praise graciously. Absent was any sense in her that anything had been lost, either by Galywis’s ultimate passing or by the total destruction of the former Master Library. She was almost merry with delight, and that made me instantly suspicious.
‘It was none of our doing,’ I told her. ‘Galywis made his own choice.’
That sobered her a little, but not much. She nodded briskly and looked but once more at the wreck her people had made of our beautiful Seventh Realm. ‘Either way, we appreciate your assistance. You will not regret it, I trust.’ She made a kind of half salute to me and Pense and Ori, bestowing only an ironic smile upon her grandson. ‘I do not think we will meet again,’ she said, though this was not necessarily directed at Gio, for she gave him a questioning look. He returned it with only a cool stare, at his most aloof.
She shrugged, and smiled at me. ‘Good luck with this place,’ she said. ‘You will need it.’
Then she and Hyarn vanished, leaving us with the task of cleaning up their mess unaided.
Well, I could not say I was surprised.
Some days later, I travelled to Glour with Pense, Ori and Gio, leaving the clean-up of Orlind under Meriall and Avane’s direction for a time. We found Eva and Tren unusually unsettled, and were surprised to learn that they had been trying to contact us for some days. The explosion of the Library had been felt some distance away, it seems; there were some aftershocks in western Irbel and it had set off an avalanche in the mountains there. Eva being Eva had guessed at the probable source accurately enough. They calmed much upon seeing us, and later we sat tucked up in one of her cosier parlours, drinking cayluch and eating cakes and relaying all the news.
‘She was far too happy about the whole thing,’ I said of Dwinal, at the conclusion of our tale. ‘She was thrilled that the Library was gone, and that reaction seemed out of place. Like it meant more to her personally than averting a possible risk of conflict. It seems unpromising.’
‘Agreed,’ said Eva, adding with a faint smile, ‘A happy Lokant usually means bad news for us.’
‘I cannot help fearing there was much more to it than she told us,’ I said, in between cakes. I do not know how Eva contrives to acquire such exquisite delicacies but I can never get enough of them. ‘She said it was all about concern for her people — eternal conflict over the Library, factions and divisions, that kind of thing. But she did not seem grieved by Galy’s passing, nor relieved, or anything I might have expected. She was gleeful.’
‘Positively bounding with it,’ Ori agreed. ‘It was pretty disgusting.’ He cast a quick, apologetic look at Gio as he spoke, perhaps remembering belatedly that he was speaking of Gio’s grandmother. But Gio merely gave a tiny, rueful smile.
‘She is not the monster my grandfather was,’ he offered. ‘But she is certainly no good, either. I do not recommend trusting her very much, if it can be helped.’
‘You do not have any idea what else she might have been up to?’ Tren asked, in his mild way.
Gio sighed, and shook his head. ‘What can I say? Everyone at Phay is a compulsive secret-keeper. I had access to her private rooms for years, but I avoided going there as much as possible. I never knew about the construct of old Orlind, and was never given more than a general idea of what my grandfather was working on. They made me a most unwilling party to it, but not an informed one.’
‘There is also the question of Krays’s energy collectors,’ Pense pointed out. ‘We thought they were being used to drain energy from the dead draykoni, but if that was the work of Galywis, that interpretation no longer holds. What was their intended purpose in Dwinal’s hands?’
I’d had an idea about that. ‘It is possible she knew more about the corrupted amasku than she admitted to. We know now that she wanted our help to destroy the Library of Orlind, and Galywis with it. She might have removed the energy collectors in order to allow the corruption to spread, thereby forcing our involvement.’ I frowned as I spoke, because who knows? It is just another theory.
‘She claimed to be separate from your grandfather’s work,’ Eva said to Gio. ‘Do you think she spoke the truth?’
‘She might have, but it may not mean very much if she did, because she was also telling the truth about factions. Sulayn Phay was always somewhat divided, but it has been more so since my grandfather’s passing. She is Lokantor, but she leads a fractured Library. If she is not continuing Krays’s work, it does not necessarily follow that nobody else is. And she was interested in draykon Elders, but I never found out why.’
‘I wonder what they might be doing that would benefit from the destruction of Orlind,’ Eva mused. ‘Whether it is related to Krays’s projects or not, it is an unusual approach. Every other Lokant I have ever met was dying to revive that Library somehow, provided of course that it could be kept under their own control. I cannot help but be curious as to why Dwinal and Hyarn deviate so far from the usual attitude.’
‘I had hoped to leave that problem in your hands,’ I ventured. I had to force the words past a flutter of nerves, for I knew that Eva could not welcome being burdened with such a task. She was extremely busy already, and she had bid farewell to Lokants and their messes with relief.
Indeed, she lifted an eyebrow at me, and the sardonic twist to her lips made me quail just a little. But she merely sighed, and nodded. ‘Somehow I guessed that was the intention.’
‘We have not the wherewithal to investigate it fully,’ I apologised. ‘We have only Gio, who is more than willing to assist you.’
Eva gave Gio a speculative look, but it was Tren who said: ‘I imagine you are as thrilled with the prospect as Eva, no?’
Gio smiled faintly. ‘I am in no hurry to tangle with my family again, but Llandry is right. There is more afoot than my grandmother acknowledged.’
‘It could be construed as someone else’s problem,’ Eva said, with faint hope.
‘Perhaps,’ said Pensould. ‘Perhaps not. The destruction of the Library may mean that the focus of their attention has now passed from our realms, and we will be troubled no longer. But on the other hand, it may not mean that at all.’
I felt warmed, both by Pense’s unquestioning support and by his use of the word our. I sometimes wondered how invested he felt with this modern world, so different from everything he had known in his youth. It reassured me to know that he saw our Seven Realms as his own.
Eva muttered something incomprehensible, and slouched down in her chair. It was an uncharacteristic posture for her, decidedly inelegant, but from the look on her face I could see that she didn’t care. ‘Lokants cause too much trouble,’ she decided. ‘Interfering wretches. At this rate, I will have to establish a network of defence just to keep an eye on them.’
‘A Lokant Investigation and Deterrence Bureau,’ Tren suggested, eyes twinkling.
‘Perfect. We will pull in all the Partials we can find, train them up, and set them loose. Any full Lokant who dares set foot in the Seven again will be sent packing post-haste.’ She laughed at the idea, but sobered soon enough and set down her empty cup of cayluch with a snap. ‘I will be honest, Llan, I have no immediate idea what we can do with this problem. But with Gio’s help, perhaps we are not without options.’
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