Lokant

by Charlotte E. English

  She shook her head. ‘If you’ve been tracered, it amounts to the same thing.’

  ‘What?’

  Indren stood up. ‘Walk with me.’ The sun was beginning to rise outside, lightening the grounds to a dull grey. Devary followed Indren out of the building and onto the well-kept grass around the university premises.

  ‘Why are you asking me these questions, Dev?’ she began once they were clear of the building.

  He related to her the latest attempt to capture Llandry, and how it had ended. He sensed a palpable tension from her when he described the man who had almost taken her.

  ‘I don’t know what you did to attract his attention, but you’re in trouble,’ she said when he had finished.

  ‘Who? Who is he?’

  ‘I don’t know much about him,’ she said after a moment’s pause. ‘He’s known as Krays. He’s not often seen; I think he’s a higher-up, doesn’t usually dirty his hands with the grunt work. If he’s after Llandry in person, then she is in more trouble than ever.’

  Divining from this that Indren knew nothing about Krays’s purpose in seeking Llandry, Devary’s heart sank. He asked her anyway.

  ‘He is not the type to share his motivations,’ she said wryly. ‘But...’ she hesitated. ‘Understand, I am not supposed to share this information. You did not get it from me.’

  He promised.

  ‘I saw him once, last moon. He came into the office late at night, ordered me to drop all of my current lines of enquiry and take up a new research. Genealogy.’

  ‘...genealogy?’

  ‘I know.’ She smirked. ‘Not our usual area of expertise. He said he wanted the lineage of all the most powerful magical practitioners traced back as far as possible. Then broadened, to identify any individuals with similar genealogy but who aren’t trained. Did I understand that Llandry’s an untrained summoner?’

  Devary nodded warily. ‘A strong one, I think.’

  Indren sighed. ‘Before you ask me, no, I don’t know what all of this is intended to discover. But it seems to me that what we’re really looking for is people with similar lineage to Llandry. A lot of powerful sorcerers or summoners in their family trees. We’re finding mostly summoners in Glinnery and Irbel and more sorcerers in the Darklands, generally speaking, but of course there’s some crossover. And there are more untrained people with the potential to be significant than you might think.’

  Devary nodded. He could follow the logic, as far as it went; the sorcerer and summoner training schools would have full records for all of their students, but people like Llandry who had never attended an academy would have passed unnoticed. And it had long been known, or at least suspected, that magical ability was largely hereditary.

  He was silent for a few moments as his mind clicked through the possibilities. ‘They’re looking for people with similar abilities as Llandry,’ he concluded. ‘But there are many summoners across the Seven, so it isn’t her strength as a summoner that’s significant about her.’

  Indren finished the thought for him. ‘Llandry is the only known practitioner who can metamorphose into draykon form. This is staggering to the magical community; until a moon or so ago we weren’t even sure that draykons had ever existed, not in the way they were represented in legend. So questions were asked. Is it something all summoners have the potential to do? But Llandry is untrained. The likelihood of her spontaneously discovering that on her own seems small, and we would have expected to see some level of shape-shifting occurring elsewhere before now. So it must be something unique to Llandry that grants her that ability.’

  ‘But it might not be unique, merely very rare.’

  She nodded. ‘It was suggested that there may be some form of mutation in her biology that allows for it. That makes me concerned for Llandry. If what you say is true, that Krays himself is after her, then the consequences of capture will be severe.’

  Devary frowned. ‘A mutation? But what of the other draykon?’

  ‘Precisely. We currently have two live draykons on our hands: one is Llandry, and the other, as I understand it, is the creature whose bones were spread over the Seven and subsequently reunited and restored. I heard a whisper that somebody from this department was involved in that, but I haven’t been able to confirm it.’

  To hear Indren talking like an agent was disconcerting. She had never been part of that side of the faculty; people like Devary brought the information to her, and she analysed it. Things had clearly changed.

  ‘It has been posited that Llandry may have effectively created the form herself out of her own imagination, based on the old stories. But the existence of the second draykon refutes this notion. What we appear to have here is a so far inexplicable link between an ancient, extinct species and a human girl of twenty.’

  ‘That is another question,’ Devary remarked. ‘I have never previously heard of an extinct species being resurrected, not until the last couple of moons. Then suddenly we were seeing it happening repeatedly.’

  Indren nodded enthusiastically. ‘Yes. There have been a lot of reports - most confirmed - of previously extinct species coming through the rogue gates from Lowers and Uppers both. We might have been mistaken in some cases; perhaps they were merely rare, not extinct. But it seems unlikely that this explanation applies to all of them: some fifteen species at least. And for them to appear all at once? It has not been accomplished by any known ability. However...’ She stopped walking, her eyes travelling up Devary’s form to his face. ‘I’ve never heard of a man, near death, being well enough to travel alone less than a moon later either.’

  Devary took her hand. ‘Indren, we’ve been friends for years. Can I trust you?’

  ‘I won’t willingly betray you to Krays, if that is what you’re asking.’ She was affronted at the idea, but Devary ignored that.

  ‘Krays healed me. He took me somewhere, I don’t know where, but some deathly silent place where I didn’t see a soul except him, once. I don’t know what happened. I woke up, whole and healthy.’ He told her about his escape from Krays’s unknown infirmary.

  ‘You escaped from Krays.’ Indren’s voice was heavy with disbelief.

  ‘No,’ he said quietly. ‘I think not, in the end. He was using me as bait; he guessed I would go straight to Llandry, or that she would come to me. I imagine I was permitted to escape.’

  Indren pondered that. ‘Dev, you should know something about Krays. We’ve never been ordered to study the draykon bone or Llandry’s transformation; all of our resources have been diverted into the genealogy project. I get the impression that Krays knows exactly what is going on, and that suggests that Llandry’s peculiarities have more to do with her genealogy than anything else.’

  Devary nodded. ‘Are there others?’

  ‘Like Krays? Yes. I don’t usually deal with him. There’s a woman too, or there was; she hasn’t been seen in a while. I knew her as Ana. She was usually the person who gave me my orders for the department.’

  That name struck a chord somewhere in Devary’s memory. Ynara had spoken of a woman with that name; she was the white-haired summoner who had brought back the draykon. Could it be the same person?

  ‘Describe her?’

  ‘She’s a white-hair. Like Krays, only more colour about her. Arrogant manner.’

  Devary couldn’t help smiling inwardly at this. He knew that many people found Indren herself insufferably superior. ‘Thank you, Indren,’ he said seriously. ‘I appreciate it. And please, don’t share anything with Krays that you don’t have to. Llandry’s safety may depend on it - and others, if your project is successful.’

  Indren bit her lip. ‘I fear it must be, in time. I don’t like it, but what can I do? You can’t say no to Krays.’

  No; one couldn’t refuse Krays anything. ‘Just drag it out as long as you can. And, if you can without endangering yourself, get word to me about anything else you discover. I’ll keep you informed as well.’

  ‘Oh? What is it that you’re up to next? If you
’re tracered you won’t get far.’

  ‘Tracered. What exactly do you mean by that? And what did you mean by “promoted”? The way you said it, it didn’t sound like a good thing.’

  She gave a bitter little laugh. ‘It isn’t. I’m a promoted official. I was thrilled until I realised that I’d become fiercely entangled with the likes of Krays. Suddenly I couldn’t avoid the white-hairs; they always found me, wherever I was. They would appear without notice at any time. Eventually I learned about the tracers. It’s a device of some kind, embedded somewhere in the body. I don’t know any more about it than that, but once you’re tracered you’re marked forever. I suppose it’s a compliment, in a twisted way. They must have found me useful.’

  Devary was silent. He knew why he was useful: he was a direct link to Llandry. This tracer device must have been installed while he lay unconscious in Krays’s world.

  ‘There’s no way to remove it?’

  ‘Not that I’ve ever heard about. I don’t even know where it is.’ She looked down at her own body as she spoke, as if hoping to spot it.

  Devary resisted the impulse to mimic her gesture. His skin crawled at the notion that his own body harboured a little traitor that reported his whereabouts to his enemy.

  ‘To answer your earlier question,’ he said instead, ‘I’ve got to find a way to help Llan. I need to know who Ana and Krays are - more importantly, what they are. And I need to know why they want Llandry.’

  Indren was about to reply, but her mouth closed as they rounded a corner and almost bumped into another walker. An elderly man was strolling placidly across the grass, his hands clasped behind his back. He nodded politely to Indren and Devary and smiled. His pale blue eyes were friendly.

  ‘Morning,’ he said in a gentle tone. Devary tipped his hat in response, but Indren made no reply at all.

  ‘It’s time to get back to my desk,’ she said to Devary. She grabbed his arm and hustled him inside, leaving the old man alone in the garden.

  Later, Devary stood in the middle of one of the university’s smallest research libraries, grateful to find it empty and silent.

  I can show you my research notes, Indren had said. Or rather I can tell you where to find them for yourself. You’ll have to be quick, and very careful.

  Following her instructions, he stood in the centre of the room and turned his body towards the north corner. The sorcerer-warded door was supposed to be somewhere here, with a five-hundred-year-old map of the Seven Realms covering part of the adjacent wall. Finding the map, Devary paused, scanning for any sign of a portal.

  There was none. The wall beneath the map was featureless and unremarkable, with no sign of any mechanism. It was a good illusion.

  Devary followed Indren’s instructions, placing his fingers just under the aged and wrinkled paper of the map and running them downwards. His first attempt found nothing, but on the second he detected a notch in the smoothness. Feeling his way carefully, he slipped the key into the tiny keyhole and turned it. The door opened under his hands, though he couldn’t see it: the wall remained apparently intact. Steeling himself, he walked through, closing and locking the hidden door again behind himself.

  The chamber beyond the door was larger than he might have expected. It was empty, but several desks stood ready to accommodate researchers. The bookcases lining the walls were all locked, but Indren had provided him with another key for that purpose. He located the one she had described to him and opened it up.

  Inside was the bulk of her genealogy research. It was Llandry’s records he was most interested in, and it took him several long minutes to find them in the stacks of papers. He found that Indren had been drawing a chart, beginning with Llandry’s name at the top and the names of her parents underneath. The tree was already complex, covering several sheets of paper with the details of Llandry’s ancestors. Most of the names were highlighted in blue or purple: Indren had explained that blue indicated a summoner and purple denoted a sorcerer. Llandry was descended from an enormous number of summoners, it was clear, with more than a few sorcerers in her family tree as well. No wonder she had so much raw summoning ability.

  How common was it to have so many practitioners in the family? He wondered how many of the current day’s most powerful sorcs and summoners could boast such an impressive pedigree. But did it relate to her draykon shape shifting? If so, how? There were many very powerful practitioners across the realms who had not discovered any such latent ability as Llandry’s. Sheer force of power couldn’t be the answer.

  Indren’s findings stopped eight generations back on the Glinnery side of Llandry’s family and four generations back on the Irbellian side. She’d told him that the research was incomplete; she had agents digging for more information from within Glinnery and Irbel, but it took time. She had promised to keep him informed, and he hoped she would.

  He noticed one name on the tree that was heavily starred: Orillin Vanse, apparently a distant cousin of Llandry’s. He shared many common ancestors with her, and where the trees diverged Orillin’s showed similar characteristics. His parents were both Glinnish and both summoners, and he had a sorcerer grandfather.

  Intrigued, Devary searched through Indren’s papers and found a separate file on Orillin. The boy was currently nineteen years old, and enrolled as a student at the Summoner Academy of Waeverleyne. Indren had written notes in her own hand: Model student. Year’s most powerful.

  Looking at Vanse’s profile, Devary felt a sense of foreboding. The boy had so much in common with Llandry, he would certainly attract Krays’s notice as soon as Indren submitted her report. The boy had to be protected, but he had no time to divert back to Glinnery himself.

  A gentle voice interrupted Devary’s reverie. ‘Good morning again, young man.’

  The elderly gentleman they had passed in the gardens stood a few feet away. Devary started, astonished. He hadn’t heard the door open, and Indren hadn’t behaved as if she knew this man. Did someone else keep keys to Indren’s private library?

  ‘Morning,’ he said warily, straightening up. He hadn’t been addressed as “young man” in many years, but compared to this man perhaps he was indeed. The newcomer looked at least eighty, though his age didn’t appear to hinder his mobility at all. He sat easily at one of the desks, though his gaze didn’t move from Devary’s face.

  ‘Can I help with something?’ The man smiled again as he said it, though the expression didn’t make Devary feel any more at ease.

  ‘Ah... I don’t know. Who are you, if you don’t mind my asking? I wasn’t expecting to meet anyone here.’

  ‘Just a fellow scholar,’ the man replied. ‘My name is Limbane.’ The man stood up and bowed. ‘Whom do I have the honour of addressing?’

  His courtesy was charming in spite of Devary’s unease. ‘Devary Kant,’ he replied with an answering bow. ‘A colleague of Professor Druaster.’

  ‘I see.’ Limbane looked at him for a moment, his eyes narrowing. ‘I am quite familiar with this library,’ he offered. ‘Perhaps I could assist you with your research.’

  ‘I’m finding my way around, thank you,’ Devary demurred. Limbane may seem friendly, but he hadn’t given his last name and he hadn’t explained what he was doing there.

  ‘You’re one of Krays’s, aren’t you?’ Limbane sat down again and rested his aged hands on the desktop.

  Devary’s wariness increased. ‘You know Krays?’

  ‘Better than I’d like to,’ Limbane replied dryly. ‘Tell me, are you a willing assistant or a coerced one?’

  ‘Um... I haven’t been working with him for very long,’ Devary stalled. He wasn’t sure how much he could say to this man. Was he an associate of Krays’s?

  ‘Coerced,’ Limbane concluded. ‘I disagree with his style, personally. People work poorly under coercion. It’s a clumsy way to accomplish anything useful.’ His smile was back. ‘That’s apart from its being morally questionable, of course.’

  Devary stared.

  ‘I do
not number Krays among my colleagues,’ Limbane said. ‘To my relief. You may set your mind at rest on that score: I am not here for him.’

  ‘Then why are you here?’

  ‘I came to meet the young man who is championing the cause of that most interesting young lady, Llandry Sanfaer.’

  ‘You know Llandry?’

  ‘I know of her. We have not yet been introduced. But when I asked myself the question of where to find that elusive young person, I came to the same conclusion as Krays has apparently done.’

  ‘I don’t know where she is,’ Devary said quickly.

  Limbane nodded. ‘Good, I do approve of loyalty. You need not fear, however; I do not wish to capture or hurt your young friend. On the contrary, she is in grave need of assistance and it is time she was offered some.’

  Devary shook his head, backing away. ‘How can I trust your word? As far as I’m concerned, anybody connected to Krays is dangerous. Besides, I speak the truth: I do not know where she is. I made sure that I would not.’

  Limbane’s pale blue gaze sharpened. ‘Ah,’ he said after a moment. ‘A tracer.’

  ‘What do you know of the tracers?’

  ‘It is certainly an inconvenient device to be carting about,’ said Limbane cheerfully. ‘I may be able to help you as well, young man, but not yet. Miss Sanfaer’s need is currently the greater.’ He stood up slowly, though with no apparent sign of discomfort. ‘We’ll meet again, Mr Kant.’ He bowed, turned and walked to the door. But before he reached it, he vanished.

  Exactly the way Krays had done.

  Devary sat down at the desk and put his face in his hands. More vanishing people, more cryptic hints, not nearly enough clear facts. He wished that, just for a little while, life would make sense again.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Tren got as far as the third Change before he ran into trouble.

  His journey had begun well enough, if one discounted the customary pain and nausea associated with crossing the boundaries between the worlds. He’d stepped into the Lowers to find a yellow moon in the sky and an essentially benevolent, if hot, panorama of gold-tipped grasses grazed upon by an array of herbivores. He’d found a rock to climb up - the highest point he could find in the otherwise flat landscape - and searched the horizon, but no spindly tower rose in the distance. So he’d sat down on the rock to wait.