Orlind

by Charlotte E. English

  The door opened, but instead of an army of mechs - or even Krays - Eva saw instead a female Lokant, almost as old as Limbane if her lined face was anything to judge by. She was much shorter than Eva, but nonetheless intimidating. Her grey eyes flicked from Eva to Tren to Ana, and back to Eva.

  ‘We have intruders in records room one-thirteen,’ she said. She spoke normally, but it was evident that she wasn’t talking to anyone in that room. ‘Breyre is with them,’ she added.

  That confused Eva for a moment, until she remembered that Breyre was Ana’s family name.

  ‘Stay where you are,’ the woman said, addressing the three of them now. Her inflections were odd and her accent odder still, but Eva recognised the language as the same that Limbane had used to address his Lokants: eerily similar to Eva’s native tongue, but still different.

  The woman advanced farther into the room, a dark shape trailing at her heels. Eva froze, watching the progress of this newcomer with rising terror. She had faced a live whurthag before - faced it, and won - but if anything this piece of mimicry was even more chilling. It was a bit smaller than the whurthags she had seen, but it looked no less powerful. It moved with a weird grace, almost like the real animal but with a hint of contrivance in its motions. Limbane had said the things were part biological, part machine. Its hide was virtually impenetrable, its teeth made of an unbreakable metal alloy...

  The worst part was that she couldn’t feel its awareness the way she did with most animals. Or rather, she sensed that it was aware but its thought processes were of no sort that she could access. It looked, moved and in many ways acted like an animal, but it was something very much other. And that meant she was helpless against it: her skills as a summoner were of no use to her here.

  She waited, holding her breath, for the thing to attack, but it did not. It merely followed its mistress across the room, its presence a convincing argument for their cooperation. Eva cast a fearful glance at the door, but to her mild relief there were no more whurthag mechs to be seen.

  The Lokant was watching her, her lined face as expressionless as Griel’s. ‘You may as well sit down,’ she said without an ounce of warmth. ‘You will be dealt with shortly.’

  Dealt with. An unpromising declaration, that, but Eva had little choice but to follow the woman’s directions. She effected the small rebellion of sitting near Tren, when she would otherwise have been pushed into a seat on the opposite side of the room. That made her feel a little better.

  Ana ended up in the opposing chair. A glance at her rigid posture, drawn white face and white-knuckled grip told Eva that the woman was afraid. Not just afraid but terrified. Her brash manner, her rudeness, her cockiness had all given Eva the impression that she was fearless. But Krays could terrify her.

  That did nothing at all to settle Eva’s growing disquiet. She found Tren’s fingers and tried to lace her own through them, but he was unresponsive. Of course... he was now in character, and holding hands with his lover while they waited for an uncertain fate was no part of his role.

  Stifling a sigh, she realised it was going to be a lonely, as well as a terrifying, few days.

  A man appeared. White-hair, of course; cold blue eyes; a much-wrinkled face; he was as old as Limbane and at least as arrogant. Was this Krays?

  ‘Lokantor,’ said the woman, her manner turning deferential.

  Definitely Krays, then. Eva’s internal celebration was short-lived; this man held an aura of controlled, ruthless power that led her to conclude that Ana hadn’t exaggerated. He was much more dangerous than Limbane.

  Those chilly blue eyes barely glanced at Eva and Tren. They fastened instead on Ana, now visibly quaking in her chair. ‘What is this?’ he asked, his voice as dispassionate as his female aide’s.

  Ana drew herself up, making a credible effort to pull herself together. ‘I brought you some new people. They... they work for Limbane.’

  ‘That is a recommendation, is it?’

  Ana shrank back under Krays’s cold gaze. ‘I thought... perhaps you might find them useful.’

  Krays looked away from her at last, fixing his gaze on Eva. ‘I assume they must have names.’

  Flushing at this rebuke, Ana introduced them. Eva felt she dwelled a little too long on her titles and eminence.

  ‘I know of Lady Glostrum,’ Krays said, skewering her with an intent stare. ‘Though I did not imagine her to be open to such a career as this.’

  ‘I’m looking for something new,’ Eva said, trying to sound unconcerned.

  ‘Hmm. Warvel I have not heard of.’ The stare he turned on Tren was more than intent; it was outright suspicious.

  Tren, bless his acting skills, returned a stare just as cold and every bit as arrogant. ‘I don’t find that it helps me to be talked about.’

  Krays lifted his brows, but to Eva’s relief he abandoned this line of enquiry, saying instead to Ana: ‘And why did you bring them here?’

  ‘Remember Tulas?’

  Ana said nothing else, but Krays seemed to take her meaning, for he turned his attention back to Eva instead. She stared back at him, hiding her puzzlement and fear behind her much-practiced mask of calm confidence. Who or what was Tulas? Perhaps they weren’t the first to act as double agents between Limbane’s and Krays’s organisations.

  An absurd thought, that, she chided herself. Given the way these people operated, they certainly weren’t the first.

  ‘Limbane’s people, hm,’ Krays said. ‘Why would you wish to betray him?’

  ‘We have no particular wish to betray him,’ Tren said in his unfamiliar new voice. ‘Limbane is cautious, old-fashioned and stuck in his ways. We would prefer to involve ourselves in some more... exciting ventures.’

  ‘And yet,’ said Krays, ‘you have offered inside information in exchange for this?’

  ‘If that is what is required,’ Tren replied, ‘we are willing, yes.’

  Krays watched him, his thoughts unreadable. He would be sizing Tren up, trying to guess at his sincerity, his motives. Tren was giving a fine performance; Eva didn’t believe the Lokantor would see anything amiss.

  And Tren’s approach was a clever one. He made it appear that they were by no means eager to betray Limbane, that it wasn’t a habit of theirs. Perhaps that would make it easier for Krays to trust them, at least a little. He’d also made it clear that they were ambitious, and ambition tended to impress people like Krays.

  ‘You vouch for these people?’ Krays said without turning.

  ‘Yes,’ Ana replied, managing to sound firm.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because they remind me of myself a few years ago.’

  Krays shot her a cold look. ‘That would not seem to be a recommendation, would it?’

  Ana, silenced, could only stare at him, like a defenceless animal confronting a predator.

  ‘The problem is a simple one to resolve,’ Krays decided, with a smile that turned Eva’s stomach. ‘I must establish the extent of your proposed loyalty to me. How far are you prepared to go?’

  It wasn’t really a question. Neither Eva nor Tren made any answer; they merely waited for his next words.

  ‘I’ve a great desire to see Limbane’s Library again,’ he said. ‘It has been many years since my last visit. In fact, there is one particular place... does my old friend still maintain a private study?’

  Eva felt a prickle of foreboding. Limbane’s reading room was, she was convinced, the one place in his Library he would protect to the death from Krays’s interference.

  But Tren didn’t hesitate. ‘He does.’

  ‘You will take me to it, then. At least one of you will have access to the Map, I am sure?’

  Eva wished she could have a moment, just a minute or two, to discuss this with Tren. But she wouldn’t get that chance; she’d have to follow his lead. ‘I have access.’

  ‘Then arrange it. Your first task, as my supposed newest associates, is to ensure I may safely visit this study when Limbane is not in residence. I must
be able to get in and out with minimal complications.’ He gave a chilly smile. ‘If you are as trusted as you say, it should be no problem for you to arrange this.’

  ‘That will be possible,’ Tren said immediately.

  ‘Excellent. Then go and do it now, please.’

  Eva’s heart sank. There would be no getting out of this. They must perform this task, or lose the chance to win Krays’s trust, and therefore lose their chance at his secrets. But with most of the Lokants absent, it couldn’t have been worse timed. Finding his rival’s Library all but deserted, would Krays merely ransack the reading room and leave it at that? Or would he take the opportunity to seize control of the Library?

  Nor did she want Krays to learn about Limbane’s interference in his campaign in Glinnery. They couldn’t afford to wait until the Lokants were finished in the Seven and had returned to the Library. That would take too long, and they might only return after the Seven had fallen to the draykoni and it was too late anyway.

  She couldn’t warn the Lokants, or they would come back en masse, abandoning Waeverleyne to its ruin. The only other option was to find a way to conceal the absence of Limbane’s people from Krays. That would mean keeping him confined to the reading room, but how could they possibly achieve that?

  Chapter Twenty

  The Lokants were not slow to organise themselves. Llandry watched them arrive in their numbers, each one calm-faced, alert, and not looking in the least concerned that they had been thrown into the midst of a battle. They were so devoid of emotion, in fact, that they were almost like mechs themselves. That thought gave her a shiver.

  Her parents. Travelling west, they would soon run into the circle of whurthag mechs that were approaching the city - if they hadn’t already. Dare she hope they had somehow missed them? That thought fluttered optimistically in her muddled brain for about three seconds before she discarded it.

  She wished, most fervently, that Eva was here, for her ladyship would have set off immediately to find them and shepherd them safely to Irbel. But she wasn’t, and she had asked Llandry not to call her again. Llan had no wish to imperil Eva and Tren if they were in Krays’s Library by now. Llandry would have to steel herself to approach one of these intimidating strangers with her request. Searching among the sea of pale faces before her, she at last spotted Limbane.

  But he wasn’t the mild-mannered gentleman she’d first known. He was grim and imposing, barking orders to groups of Lokants in turn. As Llandry watched, they divided themselves into many small groups and began to prepare their mystifying equipment. She couldn’t hear Limbane’s orders over the tumultuous background noise.

  Pensould’s arms slipped around her waist and his voice murmured in her ear. ‘Ori has taken Avane back to the village. You must come too, Minchu. It’s dangerous here.’

  She nodded, knowing he was right. Iver had set up his headquarters on the edges of Waeverleyne, far from the landmarks that attracted the primary attentions of the draykoni invaders. It was, therefore, relatively quiet out here; but “relatively” didn’t mean much.

  I can’t leave yet, Pense, she told him silently. Ma and Pa are walking straight into the whurthags!

  What do you mean to do? Pense’s mind-voice was full of misgiving.

  I want some of these Lokants to help me. They could carry my parents straight out of the forest and all the way to Irbel in an instant, then bring Pa back too. And if Ma and Pa are in trouble with the whurthags, they’ll know how to deal with it.

  They look busy, Pense commented, watching the Lokants’ activity.

  If they won’t help us, we’ll go ourselves in our draykon forms. Never mind what the commander says!

  Pensould sighed, but he didn’t argue. ‘Better do it now,’ he said out loud as the Lokant teams began to move.

  Biting her lip, Llandry summoned her courage and ran forward to grab at Limbane’s sleeve. If only she wasn’t so much smaller than almost everyone else! It always put her at a disadvantage.

  ‘Limbane! Please, I need to borrow some of your people, just for a little while.’ She blurted out the whole story, talking fast, praying he wouldn’t dismiss her.

  Limbane listened in silence, a slight frown creasing his brow. ‘Do you think this “help” they’re looking for in Irbel will be granted?’

  ‘Ma will persuade them,’ Llandry said with perfect confidence.

  Limbane looked out at his Lokants, thinking it over. Reaching a decision, he nodded. ‘I can give you two, Llandry, but this can’t take long. I need everyone on this.’

  Llandry could have wept with gratitude. ‘Thank you! I promise, it won’t take long.’

  He nodded his head once, and raising his voice shouted: ‘Rael! Melle!’

  Two Lokants ran up, one a youngish looking male and the other a somewhat older female. Both were wearing tool belts and carrying weapons. In addition, Melle had a set of unidentifiable devices strapped to her torso.

  ‘Lokantor,’ they both said together.

  ‘Brief secondment. For the next... hour,’ Limbane said, checking his watch. ‘Help Llandry get hold of her parents, will you?’

  Llandry was relieved when Melle smiled at her, though Rael remained immovably grim. ‘Yes, sir,’ they both said, and with a nod, Limbane walked off.

  ‘Let’s have the problem,’ Melle said. ‘Fairly sharpish.’

  Llan repeated her story. Fearing that she sensed reluctance, even annoyance, in Rael’s silent manner she emphasised the importance of her parents’ errand two or three times.

  ‘No problem,’ Melle said when she’d finished. ‘Get to someplace safe, all right? If we’re bringing your dad back here, no sense in dropping him somewhere dangerous.’ She glanced up as she spoke, indicating the vast, dark shapes that were fighting over the centre of the city.

  ‘I’ll be in the village,’ Llan promised, and started to give directions, but Melle held up a hand.

  ‘I’ll find you. Go. Careful, now.’ With that, the two of them vanished, leaving Llandry alone with Pensould.

  ‘I wanted to go with them,’ she said in a small voice.

  ‘Nonsense, Minchu, for you could not be of use. Let them concentrate on extracting your parents. Meanwhile, Melle’s advice is sound. We must go.’

  Llandry allowed him to shepherd her out of Iver’s base camp and back towards the village, skirting around the most violent conflicts. It wrung Llandry’s heart to be climbing over the piled rubble of people’s homes and shops. Blood, old and fresh, stained areas of burned or trampled ground, adding queasiness, sadness and profound dismay to her discomforts. She forged ahead through the war-torn landscape, grimly turning her attention away from the carnage and the battle that still raged over the centre of Waeverleyne.

  ‘I think you should rest a little, Minchu,’ Pensould said as they reached the village. ‘You are tired, and opportunities are scarce.’

  Llandry didn’t object, but she gripped Pensould’s sleeve. ‘Come with me? I don’t want to be alone.’

  Pensould smiled. ‘Come to think of it, I could stand to rest a little myself.’

  ‘Only for an hour,’ she cautioned. ‘There should be news of my parents by then.’

  ‘Agreed.’ Guiding her with unusual gentleness, Pensould led her to the little house they used as a safe haven and put her to bed. Drawing her into a comforting embrace, he tucked blankets around her throat and laid a kiss on her hair.

  ‘Sleep,’ he instructed. Feeling protected and safe, Llandry allowed her fevered mind to slide into unconsciousness.

  She was woken soon afterwards by the sounds of heart-broken sobbing.

  ‘Who’s that?’ she mumbled, opening her heavy-lidded eyes.

  Pensould was already out of bed. ‘I think it is Avane,’ he said, helping her to stand. The sounds came from the next room; the walls were thin and crude and did little to block out the noise. Her heart fluttering with dismay, Llan trotted through to the little living parlour, praying she wasn’t about to hear yet more bad news. />
  Avane was huddled on the floor, convulsed with tears. Ori was hovering over her with an air of desperation, obviously lacking any notion of what to say.

  ‘Avy,’ Llan murmured, going to her knees beside the woman. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘N-nothing, exactly,’ Avane sobbed, ‘only with all those Lokants here I w-wondered what’s b-become of Lyerd, and I feel so awful for leaving him alone all this time, and I realised maybe I’ll never be able to get back to him and he’ll b-be alone forever, and...’ Her words dissolved in a renewed flood of tears. ‘I’m s-sorry,’ she stammered, gulping in air. ‘I’m just n-not cut out to b-be a soldier.’

  ‘I don’t think any of us are,’ Llan said frankly. ‘But we can keep going, because we’re needed and we have to.’

  Avane nodded, uttering a damp sniff. She didn’t meet Llandry’s eye.

  ‘Lyerd is fine, I’m sure of it. He is much safer out there than he would be here. And if Yora was summoned along with the others, she will have got someone else to care for him. She wouldn’t leave him alone.’

  Avane nodded again, her tears more or less under control now. ‘I just want this to be over.’

  ‘Me too,’ Llandry said with a long sigh. She wrapped Avane in a hug, full of sympathy for the poor sorceress. Other than Ori, Avane had had the least time of any of them to adapt to her new life. Lacking any kind of ambition, she didn’t revel in the power of it the way Ori did. She was also old enough that her youthful fearlessness - if she’d ever had any - was long gone. Being a parent as well only took her situation from bad to worse. If Llan could have kept her out of the conflict somehow, she would have. But the inescapable truth was that they were going to need her. Four draykoni against the invaders was already poor odds; three would be beyond saving.

  ‘Green flare,’ Ori said suddenly.

  Llandry sat up. ‘What?’

  ‘Green flare!’ Ori repeated. ‘That’s a summons, right?’

  ‘Should be,’ Llandry said, her heart beginning to pound. The Commander wanted them! ‘Maybe the Commander’s ready to make a major attack,’ she suggested, torn between hope and dread at the idea. ‘It might be the beginning of the end of all this mess.’