‘If Krays betrayed his allies, you might be able to use that. Now I must go, Llan.’
‘Did you find what you were looking for?’
‘No,’ Eva said shortly. ‘We failed.’
‘Oh... I’m sorry. What next for you, then?’
‘I don’t yet know.’
Eva sounded tired, and worse than that she sounded forlorn. That was not like her at all. ‘Perhaps you could come to us,’ she ventured.
‘I can’t. Tren has been hurt, and he needs me. That is... he might need me.’
Tren hurt as well? The last of Llandry’s good feelings vanished. The cost of this conflict had been far too high... ‘Will he be all right?’
‘Yes,’ Eva said firmly. Llandry so admired her ability to sound sure and confident, even when she must be worried sick. ‘He’ll be fine. We’ll come to you when he’s recovered.’
‘Take care,’ Llandry whispered, but Eva had already ended the connection. She restored the box to her pocket with a sigh. Rest sounded wonderful right now, but there were still far too many things to do.
The most important of her priorities was getting Pensould back, but the drayks had so far refused to reveal where they had taken his corpse. Her attack on Eterna had turned them all against her, with immoveable finality. She had hoped that Lady Eva might be able to talk them around, but she wouldn’t argue with her desire to stay with Tren. She’d do the same, if only she could be near Pensould.
There was hope yet, however. Iver was working out a peace treaty that would involve the exchange of hostages - in this case the bodies of the fallen draykon invaders in exchange for Pensould’s remains. Provided, of course, that reasonable terms could be reached. Nobody wanted to hand back the bodies only to see the regenerated drayks turn on Waeverleyne again.
Llandry pondered Eva’s information, chewing a thumbnail as she did so. ‘Ori,’ she said after a while. ‘We need to go count bodies.’
‘We...do?’
‘Urgently.’
Ori looked pale. ‘Which bodies?’
‘The draykoni.’
‘Oh... that’s not so bad, then.’
Did he think she had meant the bodies of Waeverleyne’s fallen citizens? That would be a harrowing experience. Shaking off a shudder, she led the way to find Commander Iver.
‘May I ask where the draykon remains are being kept, sir?’
Iver glared down at Llandry, looking harassed and none too pleased to see her. Small wonder, for it was now his task to oversee the final end to the conflict, and all the many details that entailed.
Ah well. She wouldn’t need to distract him for long.
‘I can’t say I expected that request, Miss Sanfaer. What do you propose to do?’
‘I need to examine them, sir.’
‘Oh? Why?’
‘I need to know how many there are.’
‘Then you don’t need to see them. I can tell you there are twenty-seven currently in our custody.’
‘And six survivors?’
‘Correct.’
‘Excellent,’ she smiled. ‘May I please speak to the survivors, then, sir?’
Iver eyed her with suspicion. ‘What’s this about?’
Llandry told him. He tugged at his beard - this accessory clearly the product of many days without leisure to shave, rather than any personal choice - and considered her information.
‘I’d better go with you,’ he decided.
‘As you wish, sir, but it must be now.’
‘Oh it must, must it?’ He surveyed her with raised brows.
‘I don’t think any delay is either necessary or wise, Commander.’ She gave him her mother’s stare, the one that always seemed to inspire people to do as requested.
Iver rolled his eyes. ‘Right, but make it fast.’
‘Absolutely.’
The surviving draykoni had surrendered, but not graciously. Iver had them gathered into a group with all of her father’s intact gun-machines trained upon them. Resentment and fury poured off them in waves.
All the more reason to hurry, Llandry thought. Iver and Ori escorted her to within twenty feet of the nearest of them, and there they halted.
‘That’s as close as you’re going,’ Iver ordered. ‘You can communicate from here, I take it.’
‘Yes, sir, easily.’
‘Let’s get on with it, then.’
Let me do the talking for a bit, Ori, okay?
Sure, Ori agreed with his usual affability. I’ll be listening in though.
Llandry nodded assent to this, then turned her thoughts towards the nearest drayk. This one was a female, with creamy-coloured scales. Her size was similar to Llandry’s.
This common ground didn’t make her any friendlier, however. What do you want, traitor? The defeated draykon’s voice hissed in Llandry’s mind, full of resentment. But behind it there were hints of fear, and desperation, and a great deal of weariness. As angry as they were, these drayks might nonetheless welcome an end to a conflict they had come so close to winning, yet ultimately lost.
Greetings, Wing-friend, Llandry said politely. She ignored the snort of disgust that followed her choice of address, and went on. I’d be grateful to learn how many of you were involved in the attack on this city. A precise number, if you can.
What is it that you think to do with that information?
I believe that one of your number is missing, Llandry replied.
The drayk’s tail twitched. Missing?
Yes. You see, we have only twenty-seven of your fellows in custody besides the half-dozen I see here. The city and its environs have been searched, and no other remains have been discovered. Were there thirty-three of you when you arrived?
There were thirty-four, the draykon admitted. But your people have destroyed several of ours, so already you have given me a lie. You do not have twenty-seven.
None were destroyed, Llandry said firmly. In fact they were hidden, and you were led to believe them destroyed. This ploy had been Iver’s idea too. Llandry had learned of it only belatedly, but much to her relief. It had never sat well with her, in spite of the extent of the damage they had inflicted. She was too much draykon herself to celebrate such brutality.
That cannot be the truth, said the other drayk suspiciously.
Why not?
Your kind never tells the truth.
Llandry opted to avoid that argument. You may believe whatever you choose, but I urge you to discuss this with your fellows. I fear that your erstwhile ally is behind the disappearance of one of your number - a male, it must be.
The draykon spat at her. If it is so, it is no business of yours.
As you wish. Llandry gave the mental equivalent of a shrug and withdrew, knowing that she had said enough. The draykon, however belligerent, had suffered a moment’s doubt as well. That would be enough to encourage her to talk the matter over with the others.
‘We should give them a little time,’ she said to Iver as they left the draykoni behind. ‘I’ve no doubt that Lady Eva is right: Krays trapped one of their number while they were in his domain. Once they realise they have been betrayed, they may turn some of their anger towards him instead. Having a common enemy might help relations along, or maybe not, but who knows. It’s worth a try.’
Iver gave a curt nod. ‘It may be as you say. I’ll call for you again shortly, but in the meantime I suggest you get some rest.’ With that he walked off, leaving Llandry and Ori to their own devices.
‘I wonder how Avane is doing,’ Ori said after a moment.
‘The Lokants are good. I’m sure she is well.’
Ori nodded, but his expression was dubious. ‘Maybe we could visit her.’
‘There’s no one to take us at the moment, but when Eva comes back we can ask her.’ She paused. ‘Ori, if the drayks don’t produce Pensould soon then I want to go looking for him.’
‘You think we could find him?’
‘Probably, yes. Pense and I found Isand’s body, even though it was bu
ried. It should be possible to sense the presence of a draykon-grave. It depends how well they’ve hidden him.’
Ori grimaced. ‘Yes, and they’d know better than anyone how to hide a drayk from another drayk. It’ll be much better if they would just tell us.’
Llandry sighed. ‘Much better,’ she agreed. ‘And that is exactly why they refuse to do so.’
‘I miss Graaf,’ said Ori suddenly. ‘Should’ve brought him with us.’
‘Graaf?’
‘My orboe.’
‘You have an orboe?’ Llandry was astonished. Orboes were large, shaggily furred and disturbingly willing to eat just about anything. They were also notoriously difficult to beguile, even for powerful summoners.
But Ori wasn’t just a powerful summoner, of course. He was a draykon.
‘Well, no, not anymore,’ Ori was saying. ‘But I did make friends with one of them, in Iskyr. He followed me around for a while.’
‘What happened to him?’
‘Nothing,’ Ori shrugged. ‘I persuaded him to stay behind when we all went to the Library. Didn’t think he’d manage well in that environment.’
Llandry grinned. ‘You could consider making smaller friends, next time.’
‘Like an orting? Quite true. That would be much more convenient.’
Llandry looked down at the little orting, restored once more to his rightful place over her belly. He had been safe with her father, she’d been relieved to learn, though the experience had been traumatic for him. He now lay comfortably asleep, his stomach full.
Talk of Iskyr made her think of her grandfather, too. She hadn’t seen him since he had “helped” her and her friends with their summoning skills. Had he stayed in Waeverleyne all that time, or had he gone back to Iskyr by now? Probably the latter, she decided.
Nonetheless, she should go and see what had become of Rheas. He may be a nasty old man, but he was still her grandfather.
Chapter Twenty Seven
Pacing up and down in the Library’s corridors while the Lokants worked on Tren was not a pastime that could please Eva. Relaxing was out of the question until she knew him to be well; even then, when all their endeavours had come to naught there remained the obligation to come up with some other way to get at Krays.
Half an hour’s thought reminded her that she had been neglecting one of their possible sources of information. Without holding out a great deal of hope, Eva accessed the Map and found her way to Draetre University.
It was late when she arrived, but she wasn’t surprised to find that Indren Druaster was still in her office. Her life outside of the university must be rather empty, Eva concluded with a feeling of sympathy. The professor dampened her light-globes when she saw who was knocking at her door, a considerate gesture for which Eva was grateful. Eva didn’t miss the expression of hope in the other woman’s tired face either.
‘Any news for me?’ Indren asked, waving her to a seat.
‘Some, yes. The conflict in Waeverleyne is drawing to a close, I am informed, with Glinnery the victor.’
‘Good, good,’ said Indren. ‘Is it true that the draykoni had help from Krays’s people?’
‘You heard about that, hm? Yes, it is true. They would have lost the battle much sooner without his constructs.’
Indren looked ready to ask more questions, but Eva interrupted her before she could get started. ‘Indren, I came in hopes of hearing some news from you. All attempts to penetrate Krays’s Library have ended in disaster, and I don’t mind admitting that I am at my wits’ end. Tell me you’ve learned something.’
‘Nothing, I’m afraid,’ Indren said dully. ‘There has been no activity since last we talked. This is good, as it’s beginning to look like Krays might be finished with us. But he could still come back.’
‘And in the meantime, his absence doesn’t help us one bit,’ Eva sighed. She was silent for a while, thinking things over. Krays himself had given nothing away, of course, and their sojourn in his Library had furnished little new information. What other leads did she have?
The note. She had almost forgotten it in the chaos. Slipping a hand into her pocket, she found the little folded piece of paper still in place. ‘Indren, have you ever heard any of them speak of Orlind?’
Indren frowned at her. ‘No, never. Why should they?’
That faint hope evaporated, and Eva sank back into her chair again. ‘The name has come up, that’s all. What do you know about the so-called Missing Realm?’
Indren shrugged. ‘Only that lots of people think they know what’s out there, but nobody really does. There have been explorations made, of course, or rather attempted. They always resulted in failure. The mountains are impassable in the truest sense of the word.’
‘Nothing out of the histories? No strange stories or legends or rumours, anything like that?’
‘Not really. Plenty of wild theories without any supporting evidence of any kind - fiction, if you will - but nothing credible. It’s widely believed that there never has been anything beyond those mountains, save for empty land.’
Well, Indren was the professor; she would know what constituted “credible” or not. Eva didn’t pursue that line of thought. ‘Then why is it considered the Seventh Realm? Besides, how do we even know there is land beyond that point, and not just ocean?’
Indren raised her brows. ‘Good questions, yes. As for the former, I suppose it’s tradition.’
‘Traditions have to begin somewhere, however.’
Indren’s eyes lit up with that scholarly fervour that Tren sometimes displayed. ‘You have some interesting points there. I’ll search the libraries.’
Indren began to get out of her seat, but Eva stopped her. ‘I wouldn’t bother. Organisations like Krays’s have made a habit of raiding our libraries before, and extracting any books they considered... inconvenient. And I’ve reason to believe they’re hiding something about Orlind.’
Indren’s eyes widened. ‘Is that true? But what knowledge we must have lost!’
‘Quite a lot of it, yes,’ Eva said grimly. ‘Look on the bright side, though. Someday there’ll be a great deal of “lost” knowledge to be rediscovered, by enquiring minds such as yours.’
That notion brought a smile to Indren’s rather harsh face. ‘I will look forward to it.’
Eva rose. ‘I ought to be going. Thank you for seeing me.’
‘Not at all, m’lady,’ Indren murmured. ‘Wait,’ she added in a sharper tone.
Eva waited, one eyebrow raised.
‘Have you... that is, do you know what’s become of Dev? Is he with you?’
‘He is not with me, and has not been for some time. The last report I received indicated that he had travelled to Irbel with Ynara Sanfaer, with the intention of seeking aid in the conflict.’
Indren’s face fell, and she stared at the desk. ‘Ynara Sanfaer... of course.’
‘They were successful in that endeavour, by the way.’
‘Well,’ sighed Indren, looking up with a forced smile. ‘I’m pleased to hear that.’
The woman’s obvious dismay touched Eva’s heart. Only imagine if Tren had showed no lasting interest in her! That would be painful indeed. ‘If I see him, I will tell him you asked after him,’ she said.
Indren managed a smile. ‘Better not. Men don’t like to think they’re being nagged, you know. Or pursued. Or even... cared about.’
‘Do they not?’
‘Well. Men like Dev, anyway. They prefer the excitement, and the exquisite misery, of adoring the unattainable. The merely attainable holds little interest for them at all. I’m convinced he would view such a comment as an attempt on my part to catch at him.’
Eva shook her head. ‘I could tell a few tales of male idiocy myself, but I must go and ensure that my particular idiot male has survived his latest ... escapade.’
Indren inclined her head. ‘Luck with that, m’lady. Come and see me again someday, if I may impose so far upon you.’
‘I will be sure t
o visit with the news, once all of this is over,’ Eva promised. A further exchange of civil farewells being completed, she made her speedy way back to the Library.
The infirmary was much quieter when Eva returned to it. Many of the beds were empty, and fewer Lokant healers were on duty. The calmer environment pleased her, until she realised that the bed Tren had occupied was also deserted.
Heart pounding with apprehension, Eva approached the first medic she saw. ‘Could I perhaps enquire about a patient?’ she asked with studied calm. ‘Tren Warvel, a human sorcerer. He came in with torture wounds. Is he...? I mean, did he...’
She couldn’t finish the sentence, but the man smiled and led her out of the infirmary into a small office. He sat at a desk that had one of those interactive glass displays embedded in the centre, and proceeded to do incomprehensible things with it.
‘Discharged,’ he reported. ‘Though he has further treatments scheduled.’
Eva felt dizzy with relief. Seeing that empty bed had been a horrible experience, and it took some minutes for her heart rate to return to normal. Thanking the helpful Lokant, she hastened to Tren’s room on the upper floors.
These were empty, too. Puzzled and still a little afraid, she stopped to consider the problem of his whereabouts.
Perhaps he was waiting for her, just as she was searching for him. She used the Map to reach her own chambers as fast as possible, but arrived to find her sitting room unoccupied.
‘Tren?’ she called, heading for the bedroom.
He was tucked up in her bed, looking pale but otherwise well. The first thing she noticed was his eyes: they were normal again, at least physically. The swelling had gone from one and the bleeding from the other. He looked her way as she entered the room, and this time he focused on her and smiled. But for once, the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
‘My hero has returned,’ he sighed. ‘Now I can die happy.’
‘This is becoming a bad habit,’ she said.
‘I know. I spend far too much time in a horizontal position.’ He paused. ‘In some respects, though, I could argue that I spend far too little time in a horizontal position.’
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