Vergence

by John March

  Ebryn rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the fleeting images of his dream and focus on her. He'd never seen her worried before, and the change was startling.

  “Where is he?”

  “Just outside the window of my room.”

  Ebryn sighed and sat up. Since the second time he'd found Sash in his room in the morning he'd stayed partially dressed whenever he went to bed. “Show me. I'll see what I can do.”

  “Can you bring your book with you?” Sash asked. “There might be something in there to explain why he's being so strange with me.”

  When he'd dressed, Ebryn followed Sash outside, across the courtyard, through a small door, and up flights of creaking stairs barely wide enough for two people to pass each other. The door to Sash's rooms had been left open.

  He followed her in and looked around. Unlike his room, which he'd inherited fully furnished, it looked like Sash's rooms contained only her own possessions.

  Fine decorative fabrics hung from every wall and the floorboards were covered with a thick carpet. Low seats, piled with colourful cushions were arranged along the sides of the room, and in the centre stood an ornate low wooden table. In the centre of the table sat a small metal brazier, and next to it something like a small upside-down bowl, seemingly made of thin gold, with thousands of fine holes worked through the surface.

  Ebryn had no practice in matters of outfitting rooms, yet it was plain to see the furnishings must be fabulously expensive. She might not be a Senesellan princess, but he guessed every single thing here must be worth more than most Conant villagers might earn in a year.

  “Which window is it?” Ebryn asked, recalling the reason she'd fetched him.

  “This one,” Sash said.

  She led him through to a small bedroom where the shutters to a bay window were wide open. The decorations were in the same style as the first room, but for a broad low bed against one wall. Easily big enough for three people to sleep on, he thought.

  She leant out over the window sill, and pointed up at an angle, to a point where the gate arch met the side of the building. Ebryn put his head through the window, trying hard not to look down.

  At first he couldn't make out any shape in the shadowy space, but after a few moments Leth moved. He held out his hand, as he'd done in his dream, willing Leth to fly down to him.

  After a fractional hesitation, Leth sailed through the open window and landed unevenly on the floor, standing there with his wings drooped, and back arched, like a cat preparing to cough up a hairball. Ebryn ran a finger under the small creature's chin, scratching at the overlapping scales on the underside. Small patches of gold flared where he touched, but spread no further across Leth's skin, quickly reverting to a dull black.

  “He looks very thin, doesn't he. Has he been eating since you arrived here?”

  “I don't know,” Sash said. Her voice sounded strained. “He's always hunted for his own food. I let him go, and he comes back to me when he's finished with his kill. Do you think he's sickening with something?”

  Ebryn retrieved his bestiary, unfolding it smoothly from the hidden place, and handed it to Sash. “Try about three quarters of the way towards the end. I think I turned over the page corner. There's a piece there about Senesellan dragons – it might have something useful.”

  “I hope it's more truthful than the bits in your other book about the waspa.”

  Ebryn bristled. “Well, it has to be better than nothing.”

  If his irritation sounded in his voice, Sash didn't seem to notice. She was already engrossed in leafing through the book when Leth made a hacking noise, and retched up a globule of slime, and chewed-up animal fragments onto the floor near Ebryns boots.

  “He's definitely eaten something. Look at this.” Ebryn fished a small piece of bone out of the mess, followed by a ragged fragment of black flesh, like torn leather.

  “What is it?” Sash asked.

  Ebryn frowned. The flap of skin reminded him of something, but he couldn't place the memory. “Some kind of skin — it looks like trikawi, but they're too big, unless he found a carcass to chew on. And even their smallest bones must be much larger than these. Is there anything in the book?”

  “No. Not much. All he's mentioned is about their colour changing. Apart from that, he doesn't seem interested.”

  Ebryn sat back on his heels, eyes closed, trying to recall where he'd seen something like the pieces of dark skin. Unbidden, his mind travelled back to the deck of Captain Lim's world-ship, crouching over the travel box, holding Leth, recalling the small dragon's reaction to the flight of leatherwings.

  “It's leatherwings,” Ebryn said. “He's been eating leatherwings. I remember he wanted to chase them on the ship after we arrived here.”

  “Oh, Leth, you poor thing, couldn't you find anything better to eat?” Sash knelt on the floor, hugging the book to herself, her brow furrowed. Ebryn hadn't seen her this upset about anything before. “I should have thought about that before I brought you here.”

  Ebryn reached out and stroked the spines on Leth's back. “I think I can stop him eating the leatherwings, but we still don't know what kind of food he can have here.”

  The Menagerie

  THE MENAGERIE turned out to be a sprawling collection of old buildings occupying an area a furlong on each side. It might once have been located in a park, or perhaps an open field, but now newer dwellings surrounded it on all sides, pressing up against the outer walls.

  Ebryn had spoken to Plyntoure about Leth and he, in turn, suggested visiting this place, as they might have a better idea about what animals should eat, while he offered to see if he could find a scholar specialising in Senesellan beasts.

  Even at a distance, many of the buildings were in an obvious state of disrepair; some were partially collapsed. Others had flaking paint with crumbling stonework and weeds growing through cracks in the mortar.

  A few furtive looking figures loitering near the entrance in long hooded cloaks hurried away as they approached, casting nervous looks at Addae as they went.

  Above the gate a large sign read Vergence Grand Menagerie.

  There were far fewer people around than Ebryn had expected for a public holiday, but when they passed under the gate arch he could see why.

  “Smell bad,” Elouphe said, his nostril slits flaring.

  Inside, the air felt stagnant. It reeked of rancid manure, and something like rotting fish. The last thing Ebryn had smelt as bad had been the remnants of a half deer he'd happened upon in the Conant woods, left to fester for days in the hot summer sun.

  The main path forked, following the perimeter of the enclosure, while myriad narrower paths wound between small barred enclosures. Alongside the main path, the outer wall was crowded with smaller cells, many with thinner ornate grills and meshes. Most held nothing but old droppings and fragments that hinted at former occupants, odd feathers or small tangles of fur. Water troughs were either dry, filled with dust, or contained a slimy green sludge.

  “This is not a good place,” Addae said. He held a hand over his face. A crease had appeared on his forehead between his eyes.

  Sash grimaced. “We need to find somebody to talk to. Let's try the back.”

  They wended their way through the maze of enclosures, heading towards the rear of the structure. Further in, they passed a few cages holding animals. One had a dozen dark grey animals with the appearance and size of small cats, but swinging from the upper bars with long arms and strong three fingered hands. A razor-sharp curved claw tipped each finger. They hissed at each other, and turned to watch the visitors with large pale green eyes.

  Another enclosure held a handful of squat birdlike animals, each about the size of a small pig, covered in an untidy mass of long dull brown feathers, which trailed in the dust behind them like heavy capes.

  “Where all animal, Sash?” Elouphe said.

  He'd been following Sash so closely he almost trod on her heels with every other step. Ebryn was sure he'd have been irri
tated if Elouphe crowded him like that, but she didn't seem to mind.

  Sash reached up to steady Leth with one hand and took Elouphe's with the other,

  “I don't know, El. Perhaps we'll find more,” she said.

  The section they were in turned out to be lozenge-shaped, outer walls drawing together to a corner, and on each side they found an opening to a different part of the menagerie. Through the left, they could see an area open to the sky. Here many of the enclosures lacked bars altogether, or were choked with creepers and foliage. Hardier plants had pushed up through the paving, leaving it cracked and broken.

  The other opening had an archway made of worn, partially translucent, pale glassy stone, shot through with faint blue veins. Chiselled into the stonework forming the arch they read the inscription Delightful Exotica. Worked into the recesses around the outside were scores of small gargoyles, depicting a variety of creatures even more improbable looking than the strangest Ebryn had discovered in his bestiary.

  The construction and weathering suggested antiquity, but the building had been well built and fared far better than the outer sections, successfully resisting encroaching weeds, and creepers.

  “Let's try this way,” Ebryn said. “I doubt we'll find anyone through there.”

  A vaulted roof enclosed the whole structure. Dim light filtered down from the rows of high narrow windows along the exterior walls, enough to see by, but lending the interior a gloomy feel.

  The carvings continued inside, where the deep shadows made them grotesque, and gave them an ominous lifelike appearance. Empty wall brackets suggested the exhibits had once been illuminated by torches. Ebryn imagined the huge chamber might have looked spectacular when cleaner, and better lit.

  The cages were large and airy, enclosed by elaborately wrought fine bronze bars, which curled into shapes suggestive of various types of animals. They passed one which held large brightly coloured birds with curved beaks. Another contained a pile of brilliant red and yellow striped coils, heaped into a loose quivering pile.

  “Do you think there's anybody here?” Sash asked.

  “I will call,” Addae said. He cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed. “Hello?”

  His voice sounded loud in the confined space and reverberated from the walls for a few moments. Behind them, one of the brightly coloured birds started to screech.

  Addae grinned. “Now they will know we are here.”

  Sash stopped next to a cage holding a collection of small six-limbed creatures with brilliant rust-orange coloured fur. “Look El, they've got six hands. Aren't they beautiful?”

  “Six, yes,” Elouphe said, shuffling closer.

  Most squatted in a group on the floor of the cage, sifting carefully through each other's fur with nimble fingers. A couple had climbed up the bars on the side of the cage, and clung there at head height, watching them with large, sad looking eyes. Unlike Elouphe, whose rear four limbs ended in flipper-like webbed feet, theirs all had three-fingered hands.

  “Are they from Muruon, Elouphe?” Ebryn asked, reaching out to touch the back of one of the creature’s hands.

  Elouphe rocked his head, showing disagreement. “No Eby.”

  A man emerged from behind a nearby cage, and sidled up to them. “Pretty them, ain't they. Don't need much feeding neither.”

  He had a pinched face with protruding teeth, and thinning hair combed back from his forehead. He moved close to them, rubbing his hands together, his clothes smelling strongly of stale sweat and drink.

  “Any of 'em you partial to?” he asked.

  “They're all lovely,” Sash said.

  “All of 'em? Can't do 'em all for you,” he said. “Mind, I'll be getting more of 'em in soon.”

  “We are not here to buy these animals,” Addae said.

  “No?” The man's eyes stopped on the clasp pinned to Ebryn's clothing. “You wanting something else? Got a few others your lot like.”

  Sash turned to look at him. “What do you mean? What do they want them for?”

  “Dunno,” he said, noticing Leth. “You here about your lizard?”

  “Do you mean Leth? Yes, but he's not a lizard,” Sash said.

  “What d'you want for him then?”

  “I'm not here to sell him—” Sash said, her voice rising.

  “We need to find food for him,” Ebryn said.

  The man looked at them blankly. “We's not selling food here, nor buying it neither. You'll be needin' the market for that.”

  “No,” Sash said. “We're trying to find out what Leth can eat.”

  The man's expression of interest drained from his face like a snake shedding its skin. “Oh, right … you'll be wantin' Pietr. Best follow me then an I'll lead you t’him.”

  They found Pietr in a back room, placing a broom into a wall rack. He had a burly frame with a congenial looking weather-worn face.

  “They're wantin' victuals for lizard—” the first man said.

  “He's not a lizard,” Sash said. “He’s a Senesellan miniature dragon, and he’s not been eating properly for days.”

  “Is that right?” Pietr said, wiping his hand on the front of his grubby brown smock.

  “Yes,” Sash said. “He's hunting leatherwings, and he's getting sick when he eats them.”

  Pietr stepped closer to Sash and squinted at Leth. “Aye, he's a lovely one. And he’s a first for me — never seen one of his kind before. I reckon we’ve not had one like him here.”

  “You have few animals. How did this come to be?” Addae asked.

  “When I was a youngster this place was full of them. From old Volane,” Pietr said. “A lot of them died or wouldn’t breed, and lately we lost more. What’s left now is from elsewhere.”

  “Lost?” Addae said.

  Pietr gave his companion a reproachful look. “This place — it fell on bad times. We had nobody to pay for feed, so we had to give some away, or release 'em. We sold some others.”

  “So you don’t know what Leth can eat here in Vergence?”

  “Sorry, young miss,” Pietr said, shaking his head. “I can’t say that I do.”

  “Is there some other person here we may ask?” Addae said.

  “There’s just me and Sual now,” Pietr said, nodding at the other man.

  Sash turned away, looking like she wanted to cry. “Come on let’s go.”

  The sight of Sash upset seemed to go right through Ebryn, and he cast around for something helpful to say as he followed her to the door. “We can see if Plyntoure has found anyone.”

  Elouphe padded up beside her and plucked at her sleeve. “Try fish, Sash?”

  “I’ve already told you, I don’t know if he can eat fish. It might poison him.”

  “Have you tried the library?” Pietr called out after them. “Try the library. You might find something there.”

  Sash brusquely wiped away wetness on her cheek with the back of her hand as she pushed past the door. Sual was close on her heels, almost running to keep up.

  “Thanks for the advice,” Ebryn said to Pietr as he turned to follow her.

  “When you find what it's you needin', I'll get it for you. Big n' small, we got space for'em,” Sual said.

  “This place is horrible, and you're vile,” Sash said. “I don't want anything from you. You make me so angry. Look at these poor creatures. You don't even look after them properly. Look, these cages are filthy. How can you keep them locked up in a place like this—”

  Sash turned a corner, and collided with someone heading in the opposite direction. The other person, shorter than Sash, crashed to the ground with a painful gasp. A staff flew into the air, striking the bars on a cage noisily, and clattering across the stone floor.

  Ebryn could see the bottom of a dark maroon robe, which had flapped up to reveal the lower part of its owner's legs, and two misshapen sandalled feet.

  Fla hit the ground hard enough to drive all the air from his chest. He turned as he fell, landing on the hard floor with his bad knee
and elbow. If he’d shattered a dozen bones the pain could not have been worse. It obliterated every other sense.

  Thought and feeling fled. For a span of heartbeats he had no idea of what, or who, he was. Everything stopped, suspended in a void of pure agony. If there'd been anything left inside him he would have screamed.

  As the pain flowed away a boiling rage filled the space it left behind, a raw desire to punish whoever had pushed him to the ground. He could feel somebody bending over him, touching him, saying something he could not hear. It occurred to him it might be a thief trying to steal from him as he lay there.

  He reached out a hand for his staff, and like an obedient dog it rolled to him, and jumped into his palm. In years past he would have needed words and gestures to bring it to him, but more recently he could formulate the pattern reflexively. With a tremendous effort Fla pushed against the floor and turned himself over, reaching out with words and mind to summon a scalding lash.

  Leaning forward over him was a young woman, her face close enough to his to touch. The sight of her stopped the words in his mouth and the lash dissipated before it began to form. One of her hands rested lightly on his good arm.

  “Are you hurt?” she asked.

  The hand she has placed on his arm was gentle and the scent of her breath, so near to his, sweet. Instinctively, he turned the left side of his face away from her, and dropped his head to bring his hood forward.

  Fla focused on her with his good eye. He had a fleeting impression of flawless beauty — golden skin and perfect lips, but he was drawn helplessly to her gaze. Where he expected to find revulsion, hatred or fear, he saw nothing but sympathy.

  He felt trapped in the reflection of her eyes, like an insect sinking into the purest liquid amber, forever frozen in that moment. The kindness in her expression overwhelmed him more surely than the most powerful glamour, and the rage inside him fluttered, and died in the face of it. So unexpected, he had no defence, and it broke something inside him.

  “I'm not hurt,” Fla said, looking down to avoid her eyes.

  His voice sounded harsh to his own ear. He felt like something soiled and crushed in front of her, like a man imprisoned in darkness for too long suddenly brought into bright midday light, and exposed to the ridicule of the world.