Evastany

by Charlotte E. English

  His brows went up.

  I gave a long sigh. ‘Close your ears, Ori,’ I ordered. The dratted boy looked at me like he had ceased to understand words in the last five seconds, so I did it for him.

  While I had Ori so disabled, I proceeded to relate a few particulars of a most intimate character. Now, I am under no illusions about Angstrun. I have no reason to think that I was his only liaison all these years. But I do not imagine there are a great many women about who are as intimately acquainted with him as I, or as well informed about certain… details of his private life.

  I was only halfway through my monologue when Angstrun began waving his hands in a cease and desist gesture, his cheeks turning faintly pink. ‘Very well,’ he said hastily, raising his voice to interrupt my flow of words. ‘Consider me convinced.’ He glanced at Ori in alarm, no doubt hoping that I had a good, firm grip upon the boy’s tender ears.

  I delivered myself of one or two more choice facts before I stopped speaking — driven, no doubt, by some mischievous impulse for which I cannot apologise. What can I say. It was a pleasure to see Angstrun discomfited.

  Then I released Ori, who gave me a smile of such angelic innocence that I was immediately convinced that he had heard every word.

  So was Angstrun, which did not improve his temper. ‘So I sent Susa away with someone who was not you. How is that possible? Believe me, I would never have entrusted Susa to this woman’s care had I had the slightest suspicion that she was a stranger.’

  ‘Lokant,’ I said, and all mischief left me, for here was trouble indeed. ‘It is one of their talents. Or our talents, for I can manage it myself. If I wanted to persuade you that you saw something else at this moment, I could.’ I demonstrated this by implanting a vision in his mind of my own good self, splendidly naked. It is a sight he was once accustomed to, but has not lately seen, and I had the satisfaction of witnessing a distinct increase in discomfort in our mighty Lord Angstrun.

  Understand, it differs from the sorcerous arts in that I made no alteration whatsoever to my appearance. Ori continued to see me exactly as I was that day. It was in Angstrun’s perception only that I changed, for I ordered him to imagine that he saw something other than what was. It is an art well suited to a dictatorial personality like mine, and there can be no surprise that I excel at it.

  ‘I imagine you encountered some other Lokant,’ I continued calmly, allowing my compulsion upon poor Angstrun to fade. ‘Whether a partial or a full-blood I do not know, but clearly it was no trouble for her to persuade you that you were seeing me.’

  ‘Or him,’ put in Ori. ‘A man may just as easily manipulate Angstrun into believing himself in female company, no?’

  ‘Fair point,’ I conceded.

  ‘Someone who knows you, surely?’ said Angstrun. ‘For the impression was most convincing.’ He would be obliged to emphasise that point to save face, I realise, for he would not like any of us to believe that he is easily duped.

  On the other hand, whatever Angstrun’s flaws he is not careless. I do believe he would not have dispatched Susa with this person had he had any suspicion it was not truly me.

  ‘Perhaps,’ I conceded. ‘I am acquainted with few Lokants.’ There is Limbane of course, and Andraly, a female Lokant from the same Library. Plus a handful of others.

  ‘Or not,’ said Ori. ‘You are a well-known figure, after all, and it does not sound as though this other you behaved to Angstrun as you normally would.’

  ‘True,’ said Angstrun with a sigh. ‘Your physical appearance would not be too hard to replicate, considering how many images of you are to be seen all over the bulletin boards every week.’ He looked chagrined as he said that, and I wondered whether my inescapability bothered him.

  ‘Someone was behaving as they imagined you would behave,’ said Ori. ‘Based on your public image. The imperious Lady Glostrum, not at all given to asking when she can command.’

  That was not too far from the truth of course, and Angstrun knew it too. Neither of us enlightened Ori. ‘So it could be someone unknown to any of us,’ I concluded. ‘Wonderful.’ I frowned at Angstrun. ‘Did her parents have no objection to your sending her away with me?’

  ‘She has no parents. Orphan. She has been in the care of the school for the past year or so.’

  I spent a little while in thought, considering the facts at hand.

  - Someone had a reason to want Susa, urgently enough to engage in subterfuge and kidnapping in order to secure her.

  - This enterprising person knew that I would be likely to feel an interest in the child, and that I had both a reason and a right to request her transferral to my school.

  - This person may also have been aware that she had no parents to raise the alarm over her disappearance. Perhaps they thought it might be a long time before I swapped notes with Angstrun and realised her absence, or had they concluded that it might never come to pass at all?

  Questions aside, we had a child missing and every reason to think that she was far, far away by now. Lokants do not live on our world at all. They settle in their “Libraries” — structures which exist independently of any particular world and are largely invulnerable to the passage of time. Structures which, worst of all for our purposes, can be absolutely anywhere.

  There was a chance that the person who had taken Susa was only a partial Lokant, like me, and might not have taken her off-world at all. But not a great one, and even if that was the case: how to follow?

  ‘This matter of altering your perceptions,’ I said out loud. ‘It is extremely difficult to so manipulate more than one person at once.’

  ‘Somebody might have seen them leave,’ Ori agreed. ‘A white-haired person with a child? That might be memorable enough.’

  ‘I will enquire,’ said Angstrun.

  Which he did, and sent the report after us a few days later. Susa had been seen in the company of a woman with white hair. One person described the latter as elderly, but the other said no, she was at most middle-aged. I think the second account is the more likely. When people see white hair, they tend to assume advanced age to go with it — unless they are paying close enough attention to notice the more subtle signs to the contrary.

  Nobody saw where the woman and Susa went.

  This lack of information was disheartening, but at least it confirmed one thing. We may not have received a clear enough description of the abductor to guess at her identity, but we can be fairly sure that she is female. I am afraid, though, that her traceless disappearance hints at her being a full-blooded Lokant. If she is, she has probably taken poor Susa far off-world to some Library or other, and the chances of our recovering the girl under those circumstances are slim.

  11 IV

  We asked Gio, of course, but he had no information for us.

  ‘I am sorry,’ he said, when we had finished telling him everything we knew. ‘I know of nobody who might want a child like Susa, and without a clearer description I can have no way of guessing who the woman is.’

  ‘Can you find out anything?’ asked Ori. ‘The girl is only ten! We have to help her somehow.’

  Gio shifted in his seat, looking most uncomfortable. ‘I fear you have an inaccurate idea of Lokant society. You have only come into contact with one or two of our Libraries, I gather, so it may seem as though there are only a few. From there, it is easy to assume that we all know each other’s business. I’m afraid that is far from the case. There are many Libraries I know nothing of.’

  I thought I could guess the source of his concern. ‘Our expectations of you are not of crushing proportions,’ I told Gio. ‘If you can discover nothing of use, we shall not hold it to be your fault.’

  ‘No, no!’ Ori hastened to agree with me. ‘Only do what you can, dearest.’

  Gio sighed, and rubbed at his eyes. ‘I want to recover the missing child as much as you do, I assure you. I will be glad to make enquiries at Sulayn Phay, only… I have rather parted ways with them, and I have treated one or two of them prett
y badly at that. It will be difficult to convince them to trust me enough to confide, if indeed they have any involvement in this business.’

  Personally I doubt that the woman who took Susa was Dwinal. Firstly because Dwinal is of advanced age and I think it more likely that our second witness was correct: the abductor was a younger woman. Secondly because it would be far too easy if our kidnapper was the same person I am already charged to investigate, and when is life ever that?

  That does not rule out the possibility that someone else of Sulayn Phay took Susa, however. We know from Llandry’s account, as well as Gio’s information, that Phay is divided into factions these days, and who knows what nefarious business they are all getting up to?

  I could sympathise with Gio’s problem, though. Was he to go wandering around his former home Library, casually asking all he met whether they had happened to kidnap a part-Lokant child recently? And when he spoke of having treated some of them badly, I could guess what he meant. By Llandry’s account, he had carved an implant out of the living flesh of one of his former colleagues, in order to gain access to his grandmother’s personal chambers.

  This is the kind of thing that tends to irritate people.

  I would not be in a hurry to send him back there, and judging from the look on Ori’s face, I would have him to contend with if I tried.

  There is always the possibility that we are dealing with a mere partial Lokant, of course, and Susa is not far away. With this in mind, I submitted the details of the case to Glour City’s Investigative Office.

  I was outraged to find that they doubted me. Me! The notion that it is possible for our abductress to so convincingly mimic someone else’s appearance is too far-fetched for credulity, I am to understand, and I could spend all day explaining Lokant abilities for all the good it would do. I was displeased. The more so when told that, with so few details of the mystery woman’s appearance to go on (and conflicting accounts at that), there would be little they could do to find her.

  I did not receive the impression that the fate of Susa was of any great concern to them. Is it because she is an orphan child, with no family to miss her? How detestable, if so! It only made me the more determined to find her myself. Though I cannot help admitting that they are right about one thing: with no real information to work with, we begin at a grave disadvantage.

  I am not without my resources, however, even if the Investigative Office is disinclined to lend me theirs. I and my Summoner days have parted ways lately, but I have not lost my abilities there; nor have I lost the various animal friends I made during my years as High Summoner of Glour.

  Chief among them is Rikbeek, my gwaystrel. Tiny creature. Black fur, webby wings, a tendency to bite. He is difficult to love, I will admit, but we have been friends for so long that I tend to forgive him his faults. He is a marvellous spy, too, being both difficult to spot and almost impossible to deceive. I make use of him a lot, when I want to find things out.

  He only grows grumpier with the passage of time, alas. Rikbeek, I said to him this morning. We seek a missing child. If you spot her, inform me at once. With this command I conveyed to him a mental picture of Susa, as far as I remembered her. It has been a few moons since I last saw the girl.

  I received by way of reply the sound of tiny teeth snapping, and the faint scent of blood drifted across my senses.

  I am glad we are in agreement, I told him, unmoved by this display of insubordination.

  Perhaps it is unwise to let him live in the folds of my skirt. Usually he drapes himself among the outer layers of fabric, but in colder weather (or when he is upset about something) he burrows under and suspends himself, upside-down, directly next to my legs. I can well believe that it is warmer, and therefore more comforting, underneath, but since it also gives him unimpeded access to my poor skin, I sometimes regret my leniency. I was given cause to do so this morning.

  I made a mental note to see about having sturdier stockings made.

  Besides Rikbeek I have also befriended a shortig hound, to whom Tren has given the fine name of Bartel. Shortigs have a fine sense of smell, and can track anything. I have had cause to test Bartel before, and found him to be unbeatable in this respect. Tren and I went to the Academy this morning and took Bartel with us. I walked into Angstrun’s office with tiny Bartel tucked under one arm, and presented him to the High Sorcerer with a smug smile.

  Darae gazed upon my little shortig hound in confusion. ‘No thank you,’ he said.

  I frowned. Setting aside for the moment the absurdity of Angstrun imagining I might offer him a gift, why should he object to poor Bart? The very cutest of creatures! Small enough to be easily carted about with one hand, all silky black fur and paws and ears, and the friendliest nature!

  ‘He is not for you,’ I informed Angstrun with strong displeasure. ‘Particularly if you are going to be so abominable as to reject him anyway! He is here to help us.’

  Angstrun cast a glowering look at Tren, and did not reply.

  ‘We need access to Susa’s things,’ I persevered, ignoring this display of manly rivalry. ‘Bartel will take her scent and attempt to track her. Where was she sleeping?’

  Angstrun sighed, and to my relief he set aside his sour mood and bent himself to the task of being much more helpful. ‘She has a room in the attic, somewhere in the servants’ quarters. I will have somebody take you up.’

  “Somebody” proved to be another girl of around Susa’s age, dark-haired and wearing an expensive dress. They were clearly friends, in spite of the apparent difference in social status, for our little guide questioned us at length about Susa’s whereabouts as she led us up flights of stairs into the attic. ‘She said nothing about going away,’ said the little girl with a mighty frown. ‘And it is my birthday soon, too! She must come back, and attend the party.’

  ‘We are doing our best to bring her back in time,’ Tren promised, with a reassuring smile for the girl.

  I decline to waste my time trying to please children, on the whole. Not that my fondness for fine gowns does not find its fair share of concordant enthusiasm, especially from little girls. But my manner, I must sorrowfully own, is forbidding, and they tend to shrink from me, however attracted they might be to the glitter of my attire. I blessed Tren for being so much less awful a figure, and left him to talk to the child.

  She had nothing of use to tell us, of course. ‘Twas but a small hope that she might. Susa had never mentioned any new acquaintance, and nothing seemed to have changed in her life prior to her disappearance. Her friend was as confused as the rest of us.

  She did lead us straight to Susa’s tiny, featureless room, however, and assisted us in searching the girl’s meagre possessions. Susa’s belongings appeared to consist of one spare dress, threadbare and shabby, and a discarded hat.

  ‘Surely she had more than this?’ Tren said.

  Susa’s friend nodded. ‘Three dresses! One blue, one red, and that one.’ She nodded towards the closet in which the abandoned dress hung. ‘And a coat and gloves and a scarf.’

  ‘Is there any chance that somebody might have stolen them?’ I put in.

  The girl glowered at me. ‘No one would do that.’

  Well, I’m sorry, little girl, but people thieve all the time. I admired her naive reliance upon the goodness of humanity, even as I speculated wearily as to how long it would last. Perhaps she had a few years of such fond imaginings left.

  ‘The door was locked,’ Tren pointed out.

  True. Our guide secured the key from a housekeeper or something before we came up, and certainly used it to unlock the door. And since there were no signs that anyone had forced their way in, a robbery did not seem likely. Who would go out of their way to steal a key to this little attic chamber, in order to steal a shabby child’s dress?

  Susa had been given the opportunity to pack her belongings, then. I was unsure how to feel about this. It was an unusually civilised kidnapper that gave her victims chance to prepare themselves for a trip. Coul
d I therefore conclude that Susa was being well-treated in general? I hoped so, though the circumstances puzzled me.

  I took down the discarded dress and let it slip off its hanger onto the floor. Bartel I placed beside it, and silently gave him to understand that he was to immerse himself in its aromas forthwith. Our tiny guide, overcome with instant love for my shortig, would have fallen upon the beast at once and smothered him in affection, if she had been permitted. Judging from the gleam of ferocious delight in her pale blue eyes, I would consider Bartel fortunate if he had survived the experience.

  Happily for us both, Tren intervened. ‘Bart is going to help us find Susa,’ he told the disappointed girl. ‘He needs to find out what she smells like, so he can follow her trail. He is getting it from the dress, look.’

  To her credit, the girl did not object, but held her peace and watched while Bartel stuffed his face into the folds of the shabby dress and noisily inhaled. I gave him the sorry little hat Susa had left behind as well, and he repeated the process.

  Smells like child, he informed me when he had finished.

  It is difficult to put anything past you, I responded. Bartel gave me a tongue-lolling houndish grin and stood, tail wagging, ready to proceed.

  ‘And now we follow,’ said Tren, doing a fine job once again of remembering that children are people and that speaking to them is an option.

  I opened the door, and Bartel shot out into the corridor beyond. Once he gets a scent there is no stopping him, and the two of us — er, three, childchildchild — had to hasten to keep up with him.

  He charged straight for the nearest staircase and rattled down it, a pattern he repeated down the next few flights of stairs until he reached the ground floor. No diversions of any kind, no sidelines; he went for the front door, and the moment I opened it he bounded on through and into the street.