Leximandra Reports, and other tales

by Charlotte E. English

  There were also downsides, of course, including regular visits from the vicious drauks that decimated Ynara’s poultry. Well. If she couldn’t have egg-laying birds, she could have an equally attractive substitute for her pretty red-winged birds.

  Her father was at work in the rear garden when she arrived.

  ‘Is Mamma home?’ she asked as she landed lightly beside him.

  ‘She’s out,’ Aysun replied. ‘Council meeting.’

  Llandry nodded. Ynara was an elected Elder of the realm of Glinnery, so she was frequently absent. That was convenient today.

  She nodded and loosed Sigwide. ‘I finished the eyes.’

  ‘Great. There are three ready to fit.’ He waved a brown hand at a short row of small metal constructs, each one exactly as high as an average bokren bird. The machines had legs, wings and heads attached to their rounded bodies; all that remained were the details she’d created. She grinned her appreciation as she examined the metal birds. Her father was as much artist as engineer; these fabricated poultry were minutely detailed and, in their own way, quite beautiful.

  ‘Do they work?’ Llandry took up a cross-legged position next to her father and unpacked her bags of gems and tools. She began fitting eyes, claws and wing-tips to the first bird as her father worked at the manufacture of another.

  ‘Yep,’ he answered. ‘See this?’ He pointed to a thin strip of dark panelling that ran down the back of the bird she held. ‘Just needs a bit more light.’

  ‘You’re amazing, Pa.’ He flashed her a quick grin by way of an answer, still intent on fitting a wing onto the fourth metal bokren bird. She focused on her own task, and for a time they worked in silence. At last, when the sun was near to setting and the eventide hours of the Day Cloak were drawing in, the birds were ready. A row of six of them stood at Llandry’s left hand, all glittering with the coloured gems she had set into the metal.

  ‘Should be ready,’ Aysun said, getting to his feet. He walked up and down for a few moments, wincing. Llandry understood his discomfort as soon as she stood up; the hours of motionless activity had stolen most of the blood from her legs, and they prickled painfully as she moved.

  Her father crouched down behind the row of bokrens and nudged one of them with his hand. It jerked forward, its wings flapping as its legs moved. Llandry could hear the whir of tiny gears inside the bird, maintaining the flow of movement. Soon all six were rattling around the garden, walking jerkily but steadily in circles. Llandry jumped as one of them opened its jewelled beak and emitted a squawk.

  ‘Reckon that’ll do nicely, don’t you?’ Aysun folded his arms, observing his creations with a pleased expression.

  ‘Reckon so,’ Llandry agreed. ‘Just one last thing.’ She dashed away to the old bokren pen and grabbed a few of the real birds’ nests. They even had a few feathers still clinging to the woven straw. She laid the nests around the garden, placing a few dark-shelled bokren eggs in each one.

  ‘Perfect,’ she beamed.

  ‘Think she’ll like them?’

  Llandry considered that. ‘She’ll either love them or hate them,’ she decided. Her father just nodded glumly.

  ‘I’ll wait upstairs.’ He wandered off to the stairs and began to climb them slowly. Aysun was from the adjacent realm of Irbel, and lacked the wings that Llandry and her mother both bore. Llandry sometimes wondered if he felt like an outsider in Waeverleyne; few wingless humans lived there for more than a few moons at a time. But he’d never seemed dissatisfied to her.

  She stooped to grab Sigwide before he could get his teeth around the leg of a downed metal bokren. ‘I’ll be up in a minute,’ she called.

  ***

  Ynara arrived home with an aching head and an aching back. Too many hours spent sitting in a hard chair in the councillor’s halls was never good for her. She went straight up to her bedchamber to brush and rearrange her hair and wash her face. Feeling revived, she descended the stairs on her way to the kitchen.

  Her husband and daughter were waiting for her at the bottom.

  ‘What? Is something wrong?’ She felt a flicker of anxiety under their scrutiny.

  ‘Nope,’ said Aysun.

  ‘Did you pass through the garden on your way up, Ma?’

  ‘No,’ she said slowly, looking from one to the other. Where they were expressionless before, now they were looking very pleased with themselves. ‘What have you two been up to?’

  ‘You really need to come and see this,’ Llandry replied. The two of them turned as one and went to the door. She followed them down the exterior stairs, feeling that mixture of anticipation and trepidation once again.

  A scene of chaos awaited her in the garden. Half a dozen metal birds flapped and squawked their way around the flowerbeds, their wings shining a far brighter red than any real feathers. They were bokren birds, perfect to every detail; the very jerkiness of their mechanised gait mimicked the graceless movements of the real birds eerily well.

  She took in the nests filled with eggs that were scattered about, her lips twitching into a smile.

  ‘Good grief,’ she managed faintly. ‘You two are just... just... there aren’t words.’

  ‘That’s not all,’ Llandry said. She pointed at one of the blue-leaved glaeshur bushes that Ynara had planted around the base of the stairs. Sigwide crouched beside it, watching the bokren birds with avid interest. Then he exploded into action, yipping in excitement as he charged at the nearest bird. He nudged the thing with nose and paws until it changed direction and fell into step with an adjacent bird. This step he repeated until all six birds were marching off to the west, the dying sun’s bronze glow flickering like firelight on their polished metal wings.

  The absurd orting paused for some moments to watch his handiwork. Then he raced around to intercept the ragged row of bokren constructs and began turning them to go back the other way.

  Ynara began to laugh. The sight of those ridiculous robotic bokren birds all walking in a line; Sigwide’s herding game; the identical looks of smug merriment on the faces of her husband and daughter; all of it set her laughing until she could hardly breathe.

  ‘All right,’ she gasped at last. ‘That might be a truly resplendent waste of time and resources, but I’ll admit it’s one of the best things I’ve seen in a long time.’

  Aysun and Llandry were laughing too. ‘No wonder he’s so bad at guarding,’ Llandry said breathlessly. ‘He’s a herder by nature.’

  ‘Crap at that too, though,’ Aysun said. ‘Watched him try it with the real ones. Not one of them would take him seriously.’

  Ynara chuckled, and picked up the orting as he raced past her feet again. She held him in the air, his fur soft under her fingers.

  ‘You’re ridiculous,’ she informed him.

  Sigwide squirmed out of her grasp and resumed herding with inexhaustible enthusiasm.

  ‘Completely ridiculous,’ Llandry agreed.

  ***

  If you'd like to read more about Lady Evastany Glostrum, Tren Warvel, Rikbeek, Sigwide and the Sanfaer family, consider looking up the Draykon Series. The first novel, Draykon, is currently available from all major ebook retailers.

  When shy and retiring Llandry Sanfaer discovers a mesmerising new gemstone, she suddenly becomes the most famous jeweller across the Seven Realms. Demand for the coveted stone escalates fast; when people begin dying for it, Llandry finds that she herself has become a target.

  Lady Evastany Glostrum has her life in pristine order. Prestigious, powerful and wealthy, she is on the verge of crowning her successes with the perfect marriage. But when her closest friend is murdered for the jewellery she wears, Eva is drawn into the mystery surrounding the curious "istore" gem.

  The emergence of the stone is causing chaos across the Seven. Gates between the worlds are opening at will, pulling hordes of creatures through from the shadowy Lower Realm and the glittering Uppers. As Eva works to discover the culprit behind the spreading disorder, Llandry must learn the truth about her precious ist
ore stone - before she herself becomes a victim.

  Read on for a preview...

  Prologue

  On one cool afternoon when the rain fell in gentle, glittering droplets and the ground underfoot was spongy with moisture, nine-year-old Llandry Sanfaer walked with her mother beneath the trees far to the south of the Glinnery forests. They were gathering mushrooms, diminutive little fungi with stems fat with juice and caps painted with colour. Llandry crowed with delight each time she found a new mushroom ring, picking the fattest or the most colourful specimens with nimble fingers. Their baskets were growing heavy with gathered produce when Ynara began to speak of returning home.

  'Not yet, Mamma, just a little bit longer!' Llandry loved these excursions, loved the hours they spent in close companionship, just her and Mamma. She gazed up into her mother's face with her most hopeful smile, and of course Mamma relented.

  'All right, little love, but don't pick too many more mushrooms, or we'll never be able to carry them home.' Llandry promised and was off once more, her small form a whirlwind of activity.

  Then a faint melody reached her ears and she came to an abrupt stop, her keen eyes searching the mossy slopes for the source.

  'Ma, what's that sound?'

  'What sound, love?' Llandry looked up to find nothing but incomprehension in Mamma's face. She frowned and dismissed the thought, dancing onward once more.

  There; again, a hint of music. Not a sound at all, in fact, more of a feeling of spiralling harmony, drawing her onward through the vast, pale trunks dotted like serene guardians over the meadow. In the shade of a particularly broad-capped glissenwol tree was a glade encircled by tall, variegated fungi. The mosses that carpeted the circle of ground were not of the customary colour. Instead of the deep blue that matched the eventide sky, these were lavender touched with green. Golden sunlight drenched the clearing, bright and glittering in spite of the glissenwol cap that rose above. And the drifting motes of light that filled the air of Glinnery were thickly clustered here, twinkling far more brightly than their paler cousins, sparking with energy and laced with colour. Llandry stood, mesmerised by this scene. She was distantly aware of her mother's voice calling her name, but she was unable to answer.

  The thin sound of an animal in distress reached her sensitive ears. Something moved in the centre of the glittering circle: she saw a flash of grey, heard the faint wail of unhappiness repeated.

  Mamma had caught up with her. Llandry was aware of her footsteps approaching, then halting a short distance behind her. She could imagine her mother's reaction to this place; she must be filled with wonder and delight, just as Llandry had been. She was surprised, then, to hear a note of horror creep into Ynara's voice as she called.

  'Llandry! Llandry, stop there. Don't move, love.' The footsteps approached, and Mamma's arms closed around her. To her dismay and confusion, she was lifted and carried backwards.

  'No! Mamma, there's an animal, don't you hear it? It's hurt.' The movements of the mysterious creature had ceased, but now Llandry saw it again: a small body, long and thin, with sleek, pale grey fur. She struggled out of her mother's arms and ran forward.

  When she stepped into the circle, she felt the golden light bathing her skin as if it was a physical thing, like water. The effect was beautiful, soothing and warm, but not wholly pleasant, for a feeling of tension hung heavy in the air and Llandry's skin prickled with unease. For a moment she forgot about the sleek-furred creature, but another squeak of distress drew her eyes downward into the centre of the strange lavender-hued moss.

  The animal stood on short, shaking legs, its pointed face lifted to the winds as it keened in despair. It was so small, so obviously feeble, that Llandry quickly realised it must be a baby. A baby without its mother. She picked it up, carefully cradling it against her chest.

  She turned to show it to Mamma, but Mamma was gone, hidden behind a curtain of light that had fallen between her and the familiar glissenwol forests of home. It was like a wall of rain, cold and shimmering pale; she could see nothing beyond it.

  'Mamma?' Fear stole her voice and the word emerged as a whisper. She screamed her mother's name and heard an answering call, thin and distant as if Ynara stood on a hilltop far away.

  Llandry ran towards the curtain and tried to pass, but it was like walking through treacle; a strong pressure beat upon her limbs and her face, threatening to smother her. She fell back, sobbing.

  Then the curtain rippled and pulsed, as if struggling against something. Ynara broke through the wall, her face pale and her eyes sparking with anger and fear. She picked Llandry up and marched back through. The sensation of suffocation was the same as before, and it grew worse as Ynara bore forward with Llandry in her arms. The pressure intensified until Llandry thought she must explode like rotten fruit. Then they were through the curtain. All of the strange sensations, good and bad, faded and Llandry was herself again.

  Ynara did not stop. She marched onward without looking back. Llandry could feel her mother's body shaking; her arms were trembling so badly that Llandry feared she would drop her. She pressed her face against her mother's and kissed her cheek.

  'Ma,' she whispered. 'I'm sorry.'

  'You're safe. That's all that matters.'

  'What was that place?'

  'The Upper Realm.'

  'What's that?'

  Ynara sighed and stopped at last, easing Llandry down to the floor. She frowned in puzzlement at the little soft-furred body Llandry still held in her arms, quiet now and questing through Llandry's clothing for food.

  'It's called the Dreamlands, sometimes, because it's like a dream, isn't it? It's another place, far from here, beyond the Seven Realms that make up our world. Sometimes a gate is opened and you can pass through. What we saw was a gate. The Upper Realm is beautiful beyond belief, love, but you must remember that it is dangerous.'

  Llandry remembered the feelings she'd experienced as she stood in that glittering glade; the way the light had caressed her skin and the dancing motes clustered around her as if she was a friend. 'How can it be dangerous, Mamma?'

  'There are dangers everywhere, love, and the Upper Realm is no different. But beyond that, there is something else. It is too beautiful a place, perhaps, too enticing; people go there, from time to time, but they very rarely return. Now, promise me you will not do such a thing again. Promise me, Llandry.' Mamma dropped to her knees to bring her face level with Llandry's. Her eyes were serious, and Llandry sensed renewed fear in the way her mother clasped her close.

  'I promise, Ma.'

  'Good. Now, who is your new friend?'

  The creature had begun to shiver. Llandry showed it to her Mamma, who smiled in spite of herself.

  'Gracious. It's an orting, love. It must have come through the gate.' She stroked the orting's round black nose and it shivered anew, this time with apparent delight.

  'May I keep it?'

  'We'll see. Now, are you ready to fly?'

  Llandry unfurled her growing wings and flexed them. At nine, she was big enough and strong enough to fly for a few miles at a time. She smiled at her mother and nodded.

  'Time to go home, then; Papa will be worried about us by now.' Mamma was wearing a coloured sash around her waist, as she often did; she removed it, and wrapped it around Llandry's torso, fashioning a sling. She smiled fondly at Llandry.

  'I used to carry you this way, when you were small.' She took the orting from Llandry's arms and placed it gently inside the sling, securing it with deft movements.

  'Now you may carry him home. He won't fall.'

  ***

  Papa was not at home when they arrived, but his measured step was soon heard climbing the stair that wound around the trunk of the lofty Sanfaer home. He patted Llandry's hair as he passed, and she shot up in excitement and ran after him.

  'Papa, you must come and meet Sigwide!'

  'Oh? School friend?'

  Her face darkened at the word 'school'. 'No, Pa. He's my new pet. Look!'

>   The orting had been lovingly installed in his own box, padded with the best blankets from Llandry's bed. He had gone to sleep with his head under the thickest of them, his stubby tail twitching as he dreamed. Aysun Sanfaer tilted his head curiously, trying to get a look at the creature.

  'Sigwide is what you've called it?'

  'Yes. I chose it myself.'

  'What is it?'

  'Ma said it's an orting.'

  He said nothing at all in response. Llandry looked up, puzzled. His face was set and his eyes glittered with some fierce emotion that looked like anger. Ynara came back into the room at that moment and went straight to her husband.

  'Aysun, it's not as bad as-'

  'It's an orting?'

  'Yes-'

  'Summoned?'

  'No. Wild.'

  Mamma drew her husband away and lowered her voice, and the conversation passed beyond Llandry's hearing. She sensed her father's anger, feeling his eyes on her as her mother spoke. She sat down next to Sigwide's box, confused and a little afraid. Her parents' voices grew louder, and she overheard snippets of conversation.

  '...as stubborn as your father.' That was Mamma.

  '...nothing like my father!' Papa sounded quite upset, and Llandry began to feel sick.

  'The similarity is obvious. You take an idea, no matter how irrational, and refuse to be moved.'

  'Because my father couldn't accept you, you persist in assuming-'

  'This isn't about me! This creature is harmless and it will be good for Llan to have a companion. Why can't you see that?'

  'If she wants a companion we will get her a pet. Something safer.'

  Mamma snorted at that and walked away a few steps. When she turned back to Pa, she spoke too quietly for Llandry to hear any more. Llandry could only sit near Sigwide's box, crouched and miserable, and wait.