Lokant

by Charlotte E. English

  Excitement flashed through her. If this globe had really been manufactured using some form of draykon bone, it was exactly the lead she needed. That there would be more bones to be discovered had seemed beyond doubt, but she had no means of locating them herself. Apparently someone else had been more successful.

  Taking a piece of paper from her drawer she sat and began hastily penning a note back to the factory. Then she stopped. No; why should she trust her query to the post? She would go in person. Nothing awaited her in Glour City save another round of futile, frustrating Council meetings, at which she would be questioned, criticised, harangued and blamed by her confused and frightened former colleagues. And it was clear enough that no information of use was to be found in the city itself.

  And after she had visited the factory, she would make her way to Mrs Geslin’s. Tren had been there only a few days ago; perhaps he might still be.

  But her escape from the city was not so simple. A messenger arrived from Glinnery, wearing the uniform of the expedited inter-realm postal service. When he handed her a note bearing the seal of the Council of Elders, Eva guessed immediately that it was from Ynara.

  Three pictures fell out when she broke the seal. They were detailed, taken with a top quality image-capture device. She recognised the blue-green scales of the draykon depicted: the draykon that Ana woke had indeed passed over Glinnery recently, though this picture showed considerably more of the beast than the partial shots that had appeared in the papers.

  The second picture was of a dark-haired man, obviously enjoying the attention of the crowd. His eyes were startlingly pale - almost colourless - and he was powerfully built. She didn’t recognise him.

  ... until she saw the third picture. It was slightly blurred, but the subject matter was clear enough. The device had captured the draykon somewhere in between draykon and human form; evidently the two were one and the same.

  Here was information to interest her exceedingly. Had the other draykon already known how to shift into human form, or had Llandry taught him? Either way, it was a relief to her to know that the transformation to draykon shape had not been a permanent and irreversible one for Llandry.

  I managed to suppress these, Ynara had written. I thought I had suppressed all of the images, but some have leaked out. I’m sure you’ll have seen them by now.

  Llandry has been here twice, bringing her companion with her both times. He calls himself Pensould. For what it’s worth, I do not think he poses any threat. He seems to listen to Llandry. But I have asked her to keep me informed, and in turn I will keep you informed.

  But you should know that the two of them have gone looking for more of his kind.

  Their kind, I should say.

  An official communication is on its way to the Glour Council, but that last piece of information is given only to you. I trust you to determine how much to reveal at present. It may be that they will not succeed in waking others.

  Eva put the note away with a sigh. She didn’t envy Ynara’s position: her responsibilities as an Elder were suddenly in direct conflict with her desire to protect her daughter. Now Eva herself faced the same dilemma.

  But if Llandry and Pensould were no threat, it did not follow that any new draykons they awoke would be similarly friendly. She penned a reply to Ynara and a fresh note to Guardian Troste. Into the latter she tucked Ynara’s pictures. That done, she went in search of Rikbeek.

  The gwaystrel was tucked into a corner of the roof in her conservatory. He always chose the spot directly above the heater and hung upside down, wings shut about himself. She knew he did it to keep out the world - Eva included - but she was without mercy this time. She issued a crisp order, embedding it in his petulantly protesting mind, and he came grumbling down to meet her.

  ‘We’re going travelling,’ she murmured to him. ‘I need you to keep me from blundering into any trouble.’ Rikbeek bit her thumb by way of agreement, and she tucked him into the folds of her skirt.

  She wished briefly that she could take Bartel, her shortig hound, along. The little tracker dog had been a useful companion before, but she had loaned him to one of the handlers at the Investigative Office on Vale’s request. He was of greater use where he was.

  Too restless to sleep and afraid of further delays, Eva saw no point in waiting until the moon rose. Her carriage rolled out of Glour City in the deep of the night, while the Night Cloak still shrouded the realm.

  ***

  ‘I’m sorry, m’lady, I don’t know any more details.’ Sensing Eva’s displeasure, the factory manager was beginning to sweat. Eva fixed him with a stare.

  ‘You must know more than that, Ocherly. The glass was made right here. What did you add to it? How was it manufactured?’

  ‘It was a simple process, m’lady. The powder was mixed in with the sand, then the rest proceeded as normal. Nothing much out of the ordinary and I could replicate it for you at a moment’s notice, only there’s no more of it on the premises right at present, ma’am. We’re in the process of arranging for a new batch to be delivered but it’s Ullarn, m’lady, and you know how complicated that can be...’ The man babbled on, but Eva cut him off.

  ‘Where in Ullarn are you ordering it from?’

  Ocherly almost ran to his desk and snatched a handful of papers from a drawer. He sifted through them until he found the one he wanted. This he presented to her with a placatory smile.

  ‘All above board, ma’am, I assure you.’

  The address listed was for a warehouse in Ullarn’s capital city, Wirllen. She folded the note and stored it in a pocket of her dress, nodding her approval.

  ‘I’m also going to need the name of the “inventor” you paid to develop this product for you.’

  Ocherly’s nervousness increased. ‘Ah... with all due respect, m’lady, he did insist on absolute anonymity-’

  ‘I don’t care. Give me the name.’

  Ocherly held out his hand for the paper he’d given her and she handed it back. He scribbled briefly and returned it to her.

  Iro Byllant.

  ‘You have no additional information about Mr Byllant, I take it?’ Eva’s voice remained cold and her gaze hard. Ocherly swallowed and shook his head.

  ‘No, m’lady. He was a secretive sort.’

  Eva stepped back, relaxing her manner. ‘One last question, Ocherly. Did Mr Byllant give his remarkable powder a name?’

  ‘Not that I recall, your ladyship, no. I barely spoke to him myself as it is.’

  ‘Describe him for me.’

  ‘He was a tall fellow, friendly enough to talk to but not somebody you’d want to cross, if you follow me. Your hair colour, ma’am.’

  Eva lifted her brows. In her thirty-eight years she’d met perhaps five other people with white hair like her own. If Iro Byllant was another, that now totalled three further adults she had encountered in the last two moons alone. That total was interesting.

  ‘Also...’ Ocherly hesitated. ‘I couldn’t say as how exactly, m’lady, but I got the impression there was something wrong about him. Physically, I mean. He wore a big coat that covered him up well, but he moved oddly. Like some part of him wasn’t working right. And he wore gloves the whole time.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Ocherly,’ Eva said. ‘You’ve been a great help.’

  ‘No trouble, ma’am, no trouble at all,’ he said, evidently relieved that the questioning was over. ‘May I ask as to why you’re so anxious to know about Mr Byllant? I hope we haven’t done wrong with the new globe.’

  ‘I fear you have,’ Eva said frankly. ‘If it is as I suspect, it isn’t something we want to be mixed up with. But I may be mistaken. In the meantime, don’t pour everything you have into this new product. You may find, at the very least, that the supply of this remarkable powder isn’t as reliable as you’d like.’

  His face fell. ‘I have to hope you’re wrong, m’lady, but I’ll bear your words in mind.’

  Eva gave him a severe look. ‘Do that, Mr Ocherly. I’ll be in t
ouch when I know more.’

  Eva left the factory with her thoughts in a whirl. If more draykon bone had been discovered, she would have expected to hear of more draykons re-emerging; either that or a trade in the bones themselves, sold intact to sorcerers and summoners seeking augmented abilities. Llandry’s jewellery trade had proved that there was a great deal of money to be made in that area. That somebody could be using it to develop technologies that were essentially domestic and unimportant was unfathomable.

  But the fact that the powder had gone unnamed was significant. Judging the bones to be dangerous, the governments of the Seven Realms had recently taken to confiscating all examples of the stuff; any trade in whole bones was now essentially illegal. But if not for Eva’s connection to this particular factory, the new light globes would probably have avoided the government’s notice altogether. How many other businesses had been sold similar products in the last moon?

  And if it was draykon bone - and she had little doubt on that score - where was Iro Byllant getting his supply? How could he possibly gain enough of it to guarantee repeat orders to businesses like Lawch & Son? These questions, she realised, would only be answered by a journey to Ullarn itself, and that prospect made her shudder.

  It wasn’t only that Ullarn was a closed society given to suspicion and an offensive sense of superiority over the other realms. The terrain was also perilous, a fact that the Ullarni saw as an asset. They weren’t quick to assist travellers. How could she enter the realm and find Iro Byllant without assistance?

  A few ideas occurred to her. She had status, riches and – most importantly – connections. It could be done. But she didn’t want to do it alone. She needed help. And that meant finding Tren.

  ***

  ‘He was here about four days ago, your ladyship, that’s the truth,’ said Mrs Geslin, sitting comfortably in her parlour with the pinnacle of Glour society seated opposite her. ‘I’m surprised he didn’t tell you himself what he was planning to do.’

  Something in the woman’s tone warned Eva that she wouldn’t like Tren’s plans. ‘I expect he didn’t want to bother me,’ she replied smoothly. ‘I’ve been much occupied with government meetings of late, unfortunately.’

  Mrs Geslin wasn’t convinced. ‘Seems it’s an important matter to leave unmentioned. It’s not like my Tren to be inconsiderate and forget to tell these things to folks as care about him.’

  Eva winced inwardly. That comment hurt. ‘I certainly care about Tren’s whereabouts and welfare, Mrs Geslin. I’ve been concerned about him since I received his note. In it he only said that he had an urgent errand to attend to. His departure was, I admit, unexpected.’

  Mrs Geslin shifted in her chair. ‘I don’t know what to tell you,’ she said. ‘If Tren didn’t tell you himself, mayhap he didn’t wish for you to know.’

  Eva was growing nervous now, but she hid it behind her usual unflappable manner. ‘I collect that he’s doing something of which I would disapprove. Is that right?’

  Mrs Geslin sagged suddenly, her face revealing her tiredness. ‘Seems there’s nothing as can keep our boys safe,’ she murmured. ‘Not when they’re determined to get themselves into difficult situations. He told me about your research, Lady Glostrum. He said it was no use wasting any more time in the city; that you weren’t finding anything. Not when those books you found are gone.’

  Eva had a sudden premonition. ‘He didn’t... he went looking for the books, didn’t he?’

  ‘He said maybe the books were taken back to where they was found. Or if not, maybe there’s more as can be uncovered there, if a man were to be determined enough to go looking.’

  ‘Determined enough?’ Eva repeated, her voice rising. Her heart sank like a rock, then began to beat hard with fear. She knew without asking that Tren had gone back to the enigmatic tower they’d found, a building stranded in the middle of the Lowers that appeared and disappeared with the changing of the moon. He may have to find - and fight - his way through many Changes before he reached the tower, and then what? They knew almost nothing about it. It had been deserted when they had been there before, but it might not be this time.

  She found her voice at last. ‘How could he have gone alone?’ To her dismay, her mask of smoothness had abandoned her; her voice betrayed her feelings.

  Mrs Geslin nodded with some private satisfaction. ‘It’s clear there’s more to all this than I’m aware of, your ladyship, and I can’t answer that question. But believe me, if I’d known he was going without your knowledge I’d have made sure you were informed.’

  That explained the slight chill in Mrs Geslin’s manner when Eva had first arrived. She had thought that Eva had consented to Tren’s expedition, willingly leaving him without help or support. The thought was a mortifying one.

  ‘He didn’t take anyone else along?’

  Mrs Geslin shook her head. ‘He said you’d disapprove of him sharing all your findings with random folk, and he wasn’t sure who he could trust. He wasn’t sure who you would trust. He was confident he could manage alone.’

  Of course he was. She could believe that all too well of cheerful, sanguine-tempered Tren. He would expect good and hope for better. She rose decisively.

  ‘Then there is no time to be wasted. I apologise for the brevity of my visit, Mrs Geslin, though I’m sure you understand.’

  ‘You take some care, Lady Glostrum. I’ve a notion you’re the last person Tren would want to see hurt on his account.’

  It was the work of a moment to guess where Tren had gone. He would retrace their steps, following the route that had taken them to the tower the last time. He of course could open a gate if he arrived to find the old one had gone; she would simply have to hope that it remained open. Luckily, this time she was not tracking anyone; she would not have to travel all the way on foot. Directing her coachman to convey her to the nearest possible road, Eva sat back to wait, most impatiently, for the beginning of her next journey into the Lowers.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Devary Kant slipped into the grounds of Draetre’s University of Magic at such an early hour that the sun had not yet risen. After days of travel and only a few hours of sleep, he was tired, but he felt he had little time to waste.

  He entered the building with the casual air of a regular visitor - as indeed he had been, once. He wanted to check the library’s catalogue; he knew first hand that the university held some unusual texts, because he had helped to build that collection, and not always by entirely above-board methods. But first he had to talk to someone.

  He wasn’t surprised to find that Professor Indren Druaster was already in her office. She was notoriously dedicated - obsessive, even - and she was always the first person to arrive and the last to leave. Devary wondered sometimes what she did at the university during the lonely hours of the early morning and late night. He knocked on her door and entered.

  She looked up with an air of annoyance, but that expression quickly changed to surprise on seeing him.

  ‘Devary, what a pleasure.’

  ‘Professor.’ He crossed to her desk, picked up one of her hands and kissed it. As he had hoped, her manner warmed immediately. She had always liked those little gestures. He smiled and took a seat without waiting for an invitation.

  ‘Devary, dear, I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you well.’ She paused, studying him with narrowed eyes. ‘You are recovered, I suppose?’

  ‘Oh, quite. Thank you.’ He watched her closely, looking for anything unusual in her manner.

  ‘Ah... good. I had heard that your injuries were severe. I’m relieved to see that report was in error.’

  Devary didn’t answer. He and Indren had been colleagues and friends for years, but lately he didn’t know who at the university he could trust. He had no intention of telling her any more than was necessary for his immediate purposes.

  ‘So, how is that nice little girl you brought with you last time?’

  Interesting. Was there a reason she had brought up
the topic of Llandry so quickly, or was it a coincidence? ‘She is fine, as far as I know.’

  Indren made a soft clucking noise of disapproval. ‘Poor girl, what a mess she got herself into. Why did you bring her along, anyway?’

  ‘That is not important. Indren, I need to know if you talked to anyone about Llandry.’

  The teasing manner she often adopted with him faded into a cool stare. ‘With “anyone”? You know I am obliged to report all of the university’s doings to my superiors.’

  Devary sighed inwardly. ‘And who are those people?’

  ‘You know them as well as I do.’

  ‘No. I don’t believe I do. I think that you endangered Llandry by speaking of her to your bosses.’

  If he expected surprise from her, he was disappointed. What did surprise him, however, was a trace of fear in her eyes.

  ‘This... isn’t a good place to discuss these things, Dev.’

  He shrugged. ‘There’s nowhere I can go that I won’t be watched, so I’m unconcerned.’

  She paled. ‘You’ve been tracered?’

  Another shock of surprise. ‘Tracered. Yes. So I am told.’

  ‘You’ve been promoted, then.’ She smiled slightly. ‘In which case you’re in a position to tell me more.’

  He blinked. Llandry’s attacker had spoken of his being considered for promotion at one time... ‘Promoted? I don’t think so. But I don’t know what you’re talking about, Indren.’