‘I don’t see how you could have,’ Eva said, smiling. ‘Luckily you were not hard to find.’
Someone else appeared in the hallway behind Devary: Indren, also looking rumpled. Eva’s brows rose, but she didn’t say anything.
‘Anything to report?’ Tren asked to cover the awkward silence.
‘Boredom,’ said Devary, smoothing his shirt and his long brown hair. ‘Boredom, boredom.’
‘So... not a lot’s happened then?’
‘Nothing at all,’ Devary said, conducting them into his comfortable sitting room. ‘Krays hasn’t been back, and our attempts to uncover his latest workshops have failed. Not because of ineptitude, I think, but because there aren’t any.’
‘Any workshops?’ Eva repeated, puzzled.
‘Exactly,’ Devary said. ‘Everybody has been working on it. We ought to have connections enough to discover these places but nothing has come up. It’s as if none of it ever happened.’
Eva exchanged a look with Tren. She could see he was thinking the same thing she was: bad news had just got worse. Not only was Krays missing but his entire operation? That could only mean one thing. Whatever he’d been developing, it was finished. He didn’t need the workshops anymore.
‘We’re too late,’ she breathed, her heart sinking fast.
Tren squeezed her hand. ‘Not necessarily. Remember what Dev said before? About testing the devices in light and dark conditions? It might just be this phase of his research that’s finished, and the rest has moved to his Library.’
Devary nodded. ‘The ones I saw were built to work with solar power, but they had some kind of contingency power system that I didn’t fully understand. I believe they were built here so that they could be tested in all light conditions and make sure they will keep running. Nimdre is ideal for that.’
Nimdre was the only realm that retained a traditional day-night cycle, so it was indeed ideal for such a set of experiments. It was the only reason any of them could think of for Krays’s choice of location. This theory did not reassure her, however. If his work wasn’t finished, it could still be far too close to completion.
‘We need to move faster,’ she said, ready to jump up then and there and go straight back to Ana, ask her to take them out to Krays’s Library right away.
‘We will,’ Tren said calmly. ‘It’ll take a few minutes to finish here, and then we’ll go.’
She nodded, trying to still her rising panic. This wasn’t right. Usually it was other people who panicked and Eva who kept everyone calm. The strain must be getting to her at last.
‘What is it that you’re planning?’ Devary inquired. Indren volunteered nothing at all; the woman wasn’t even looking at them, instead staring out of the window. But Eva had the feeling that she was listening carefully nonetheless.
Eva hesitated. Should she tell him everything? Could she trust Devary - and Indren - enough to reveal all their plans? Then she gave herself a mental kick. She was starting to think like Limbane. They were on the same side because they had the same goal. If she couldn’t trust even these allies, she might as well give up.
So she explained everything. Devary listened without interrupting, and when she had finished said, ‘You must let me come with you.’
‘What? No, no. That isn’t possible.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because Krays will not let any non-Lokant into his Library. That is why we must disguise Tren.’
‘But I am different. I am already a chosen agent of his. He had me tracered.’
‘That tracer has been removed,’ she reminded him, ‘which he’s sure to notice.’
Tren said, ‘Has he ever taken you to the Library before?’
Devary frowned. ‘No... but still, he might allow it.’
‘Don’t forget,’ Eva said, ‘that he has reason to be suspicious of you. He’s already caught you poking into his projects. He will not believe any sudden show of loyalty from you.’
Devary sighed. ‘A shame. I know more of him than either of you. I might have been of use.’ His dejection was evident, and Eva thought she understood. His assignment here had produced nothing helpful, and he felt useless. And bored.
‘I have another idea, Devary,’ she said. ‘I’d like to take you to Ynara. She will be grateful for some assistance and support, and you’ll form a line of communication between Indren here and Llandry in Waeverleyne. Llandry will, in turn, keep me informed via the voice-box.’
She knew Devary would be interested the moment she mentioned Ynara’s name. She was right; he agreed immediately.
‘I’m to be left here, then,’ Indren said sourly. ‘Excellent.’
Eva stared her down, unimpressed with this petulance. ‘There may be renewed activity here, or something may be uncovered that’s been missed up to now. We need someone here to collate any emerging information and get it to us.’
‘It is important, Indren,’ Devary said, persuading her with a gentle smile. ‘We will keep closely in touch with one another.’
Indren turned her face away with a sigh, and didn’t answer.
‘Now that we’re agreed,’ Tren said, standing up, ‘we’d better get on with it. Eva is right: we need to move faster.’
Devary stood up, too. ‘I need only a moment to prepare. Please excuse me.’ He left the room.
Eva leaned against Tren, panic welling up once more. A series of brief moments was all that stood between her and the immense challenge of deceiving Krays, infiltrating his jealously guarded Library and attempting to wrest his secrets from him. After that, they would have to find a way to thwart him - or at least to keep him from damaging their world any further. So much depended on them. She had thought she was used to pressure, but this was something else again.
‘It will be all right,’ Tren said. ‘We can do it.’
Eva could only hope he was right.
Chapter Sixteen
Llandry had tried the shape of almost every type of creature she could think of. It came easily to her, once she had the trick of it; borrowing the appearance of beast after beast scarcely even wearied her.
Taking the shape was one thing, but using it proved to be another. For a girl used to walking on two legs, it was no easy task to accustom herself to walking on four, or even none. Flight, too, was difficult; she may be winged in her human form but bird flight worked differently.
She and the other hereditaries worked hard at it. This new skill had to be mastered - not merely because it delighted them to do it (although it did), but because, properly employed, it was another weapon at their disposal. Llandry was intrigued to notice that Sigwide always knew her, no matter which shape she was wearing. That called to mind something Pensould had said once: I know who you are because you feel like my Minchu. It has nothing to do with your face. Apparently animals operated in similar ways; only humans were reliant on outward appearances.
The shape Llandry kept returning to was that of the orting. It thrilled and confused Sigwide in equal measures, and she enjoyed his excitement. The orting shape also proved to be rather comfortable. They were efficient creatures, essentially placid, given to enjoying their lives. At the end of a day of shape-shifting, when the Daycloak was coming in to block out the dark hours, five ortings huddled in a comfortable group in a patch of untouched forest on the edges of Waeverleyne.
Any observer would have noticed that something was odd about these five. Their colours varied. Avane had been the first to realise that she could tailor her animal shapes to her tastes, and had promptly taken to painting all her beast-shapes purple. Ori, on the other hand, amused himself by taking orting shape and then acting like he was still human. His golden-furred orting stood before them now, propped on his hind legs, acting out a comedy that had been popular in Waeverleyne before the attacks started. Laughing was difficult around sharp orting teeth. Llan’s whiskers wrinkled until they tickled and her pink tongue stuck out, tasting the air. She smelled fruit on the wind, and sweet nectar, and had to suppress the urge
to go in search of it. No wonder Siggy was so fixated on food.
This was a bittersweet interlude. Theirs was a fevered sort of hilarity, born of the knowledge that soon, these skills they were learning would have to be enough, one way or another, to save Waeverleyne. Soon they would be putting aside the innocence of the ortings and taking instead those forms most conducive to warfare. They would be fighting their own kind, and they would be outnumbered. The awareness of it flickered at the back of Llandry’s mind, never wholly forgotten.
Llan, watch out for Sigwide! Ori’s words, still full of laughter. Feeling the tickle of whiskers against her fur she turned her head to see Siggy approaching.
Attractive haunches, he told her, nuzzling at the area in question.
Er, thanks Siggy. Llandry inched away.
Don’t leave! Sigwide ran in pursuit. Pensould, Ori and the purple-furred Avane tore off after him, and for a few minutes all was running and tumbling and laughing.
Llandry fetched up at the base of a tall boulder, tall enough to blot out the sun. Looking up, she realised it was not a boulder; it lived and moved. From it there came a distinct air of disapproval. She wasted a moment or two staring up into the sky, trying to discern the features of the human that stood in her way.
Then she realised she didn’t need to. This was unmistakeably Papa. His aura was made up of fierce intelligence, a sneaking vein of hidden humour, grim determination, the smell of machine-smoke and the tang of oil. And love; plenty of it. Was this, then, how Pensould identified people? Instantly she felt curious to know how she felt to him.
Apparently he sensed her curiosity, for he answered it right away. You are a strange mix, Minchu. Shyness and bravery, big-heart, shivering fear, coloured with creativity and sparkling things and loyalty. And to me you smell of nectar and dreams.
Shifting back to her human shape, Llan mulled that over without coming up with a suitable reply. Nectar and dreams? Obviously it made sense to him.
‘Pa,’ she said, relieved to find him much less intimidating once she was restored to her correct size. ‘Is everything well?’
He shrugged, his eyes on the four ortings that still wandered among the moss. ‘Hard to say. I need you all to come out to the village, Llan. It’s time to plan.’
She nodded, bending to scoop up Sigwide as three humans materialised around her. ‘What are we planning?’
‘We’ll need to co-ordinate your attacks with ours, or our weapons will be hitting you four as well.’
This mention of warfare wiped away the last of Llandry’s good humour, and a small sigh escaped her. She was grateful for Pensould’s arm around her shoulders as Aysun led them through the swaying trees to the tiny village that had become headquarters for a city council.
The whole council was waiting for them, crammed into the largest of the small buildings that made up the tiny settlement. There were no steps leading to the tree-top dwellings, of course; Aysun had to be carried up, a process he bore in suffering silence. Ynara had reserved a seat for her daughter, and Llandry went straight to her, accepting her embrace with a long sigh. Mamma brushed Llandry’s black hair out of her face with a smile, but she didn’t say anything.
Everybody was there: Laylan Westry, leader of Glinnery’s sorcerers, sat on her mother’s other side, with Elder Ilae Shuly; Elders Wies and Ryurn were present, both looking tired; the Chief Summoner and Chief Investigator were here, along with Commander Iver, leader of the realm’s defensive forces and his two seconds-in-command. Aysun was here for the engineers. Llandry felt odd, participating in such an exalted council-of-war with her three fellow draykoni. For the first time she realised that their unique abilities put them in a powerful position in the Seven Realms.
Her father spoke first, presenting a series of detailed drawings of his team’s machine weapons. Drawing after drawing went up on the hastily-erected war board, each machine more complex and specialised than the last. The volume of work achieved by his team in recent days was astonishing.
He described a device like a giant harpoon-launcher- ‘with a specialised tip, proven to punch through draykon-hide’ - and after that a modified, improved version of his exploding missile catapult. He had machines to throw enormous nets that would secure themselves to glissenwol trunks, forming elaborate traps for skyborne enemies. His pride and joy was presented last: a machine that would fire hundreds of small missiles per minute, built to be flexible and mobile. His drawing showed a brutally efficient killing machine; the toneless way in which he described its capabilities sent chills snaking over Llandry’s skin. This was her kind and gentle Papa, reduced to designing the most advanced, destructive weapons their world had yet seen. She knew the risks he was taking. If they won the war, what would become of these machines? Were they destined to be used on human foes next?
Nonetheless, Llandry sensed something building among the crowded officials gathered in that small room: hope, faint but growing, tinged with desperation. Maybe, just maybe, they could win. If these machines were effective, they might stand a chance.
Maybe. If.
Commander Iver spoke next. He had already constructed his battle plan, so he’d known of the nature of the devices beforehand, but probably not the details. Iver was a tall man, unusually well-built for a Glinnishman, though his powerful wings looked well able to bear his weight. He combined the honey-brown skin of her people with dark brown hair and eyes of a similar colour. Despite the desperate circumstances, he was calm. He ran through the deployment of Aysun’s machines in detail, marking the position of each device and its crew on a large map he had hung on the board. It was some time before he came to the draykon element.
‘You four are our secret weapon,’ he said, looking at Llandry. ‘This is important, so I want you to understand this. Some here are concerned about your safety.’ His eyes flicked to Ynara as he said that. ‘I happen to concur. Aysun and his team will be building more machines as fast as they can, but we cannot conjure ourselves any more draykoni loyal to our cause.
‘I have a strategy I want to follow. I’m told that a few of our foes have met Llandry and Pensould before; they know, then, that we have two draykoni on our side, though they may choose to believe that two alone will not dare to oppose more than thirty. I don’t wish for them to know about Avane and Orillin at all.’ He paused to stare, hard, at each of the four of them in turn. ‘You are the contingency plan. We won’t use you until we’ve tried everything else first. This will be hard for you. You’ll have to keep yourselves out of the fight until I say otherwise, no matter what happens. Is that clear?’
Llandry exchanged a doubtful look with Ori. Iver’s commands would be hardest on herself and Orillin, because Waeverleyne was their home. Were they to hang back and merely watch while the city crumbled around them?
‘Sir...’ began Ori, but Iver cut him off.
‘You can have nothing to say or to ask, Orillin Vanse, because there is nothing to discuss on this point. You’ll do as I’ve said, or you’ll be responsible for the complete disintegration of the strategy this council has spent many hours discussing.’
Ori opened his mouth again.
‘Or are you wishful of getting yourself destroyed in the first five minutes of the battle? If so, at least you’d be out of my hair.’
Ori shut his mouth.
‘Better. Any more problems?’
Llandry, Avane and Pensould shook their heads.
‘Very well. Listen closely then, please. I’ve no intention of sending you out against such terrific odds as we’re likely to see at first. We’ll be waiting until we’ve reduced their numbers, but it’s likely that you will still be outnumbered. When - or I should say, if - you are deployed, this is what I want you to do.’
‘Pensould,’ Llandry said later, once they were returned to the comfort of her own house. ‘Papa said most of his machines had been tested. Bolts proven to pierce draykon hide, that kind of thing. How did he manage that?’
Pensould gave her a lopsided smile in
response. ‘How do you think, Minchu?’
She shook her head. ‘I asked you to help Papa, but not like that! I had no idea he’d be punching you full of holes.’
He shrugged. ‘The holes heal fast. And what else did you have in mind? He needed to test what he was doing, and I provided the opportunity.’
She stared at him, saddened, her flesh shrinking at the images her mind offered up. Pensould in his draykon shape, steeling himself while another of Papa’s wicked-looking machines was aimed at some unimportant, but nonetheless painful part of his body. Waiting patiently while bolts and bullets and harpoons were fired into his skin, refined and tested again.
‘I didn’t want you to be hurt, Pense,’ she said, clutching at his shirt.
He smiled gently, but his voice was serious. ‘The sad truth, my Minchu, is that we are all likely to be hurt before long. I have helped your Papa to improve the defences he has built, and as a result they will be more effective. We may be able to hope that they will be enough, and we will not have to risk people like you.’
Llandry thought of the three enraged draykoni she and Pensould had fought before. Then she multiplied that image by three, and four, and five... ‘I can’t imagine that’s likely.’
‘It may be. Don’t forget that humankind won the last war, and because of ingenious minds like your father’s.’
She bit her lip. ‘I hate that we cannot join the fight until late, maybe not at all.’
‘But we will obey, because the Commander knows what he is doing and he is right on all counts. You are not to be risked if it can be helped. And the impact we four will have will be the greater if our appearance is unexpected.’
‘I know, I know,’ she said with a touch of impatience. ‘But it’s still going to be hard.’
‘I know, Minchu.’ Combining his comforting tone with a soothing embrace, he seemed calm, but she could hear his heart beating too fast.
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