Draykon

by Charlotte E. English

  Llandry wanted desperately to answer all of these questions, but when she tried her lips trembled and she felt a constriction in her throat. It was all she could do to force a few words out. She was frowned at, less in irritation than in puzzlement at her odd silence. Words circled dizzyingly through her thoughts, words she would never be able to articulate. She hovered on the edge of panic, only the soothing warmth of her tonic keeping her largely under her own control. This was a very bad idea. Why did I allow myself to be persuaded?

  Still, those whose questions went unanswered still bought, and Ynara's conversation satisfied the more persistent ones. The moon still shone high in the sky when Llandry's wares were almost gone. And still a stream of market-goers visited her stall, asking about the stones they'd seen their friends wearing. The word istore was repeated, over and over. Llandry's head swam. She brought more and more pieces out of her boxes until they were almost empty, and at last she found herself with only one of the istore items left: a silver ring set with a large oval of the dark, beautiful gem.

  There was a little bustle as she brought it out, a stirring and a muttering among the crowds around her table. She looked up to find a tall, richly dressed woman in front of her, a native of Glour judging by her pale hair and dark blue, slanting eyes. Her clothes, her bearing, her manner all revealed her to be of considerable wealth and probably of high standing. Llandry inclined her head and the woman returned the gesture, smiling.

  'Elder Sanfaer. I may have expected to see you in front of a stall, but not, I confess, behind one.' Llandry stiffened, but the woman's face betrayed no malice. Rather, she seemed amused. Ynara laughed, taking no offence at all.

  'Lady Glostrum, what a pleasure. I am assisting my daughter.'

  The lady's gaze flicked back to Llandry, studying her quite intently. 'So this is Llandry. You've spoken so highly of her.'

  'Never highly enough, I assure you.'

  'I've been hearing the buzz about a certain night-coloured gem. Your work, is it, Miss Sanfaer?' She pierced Llandry with a direct, uncompromising gaze. There was no getting out of giving a response.

  'Yes, Lady Glostrum.'

  Is that the best you can do? Pathetic.

  'Very, very impressive. I don't say that merely because I know your mother.'

  Llandry swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump that occupied her throat. 'Thank you.'

  'Tell me about... this one.' She reached out a slender hand and picked up the istore ring, the very last one. Llandry sensed a renewed tension in the crowds around her as they watched her movements, listening for the response.

  Don't panic; just talk to her. Llandry focused on Lady Glostrum's face, pleasant enough in expression and bare of judgement.

  'Istore. I mean, that's what I call it. The stone.'

  'I see. I have never seen it before, and I am quite an experienced collector of jewels. Who do you buy it from?'

  'I - I don't buy it. I collect it myself, from - from -'

  'Oh? Is it local?'

  Llandry nodded. 'There is a cave, not far from - near to where I live. It's in the walls.'

  Lady Glostrum nodded thoughtfully. 'If I were you, I would keep the location quite a secret, Llandry. I think this will prove to be very valuable.' She opened the elegant reticule she wore on her wrist and withdrew a handful of coins. Handing them to Llandry, she turned to the admiration of her new ring, sliding it onto one of her long white fingers.

  'There. That is quite my favourite purchase of this moon's market.' She smiled at Llandry, then looked at Ynara.

  'Why don't you visit me sometime soon, Ynara? Bring your daughter. I'd love to visit you, of course, but the light of Glinnery would probably kill me.'

  Ynara chuckled. 'We'd love to visit, Eva. Soon, certainly.'

  Lady Glostrum nodded and left the stall, leaving a quick, gracious smile as she turned away. Llandry let out a long breath, feeling weak and drained.

  'That's enough, Ma. I can't bear any more.' She quickly packed away the few items that remained, ignoring the mutters of those still trying to shop. 'Who was that, exactly?'

  'Eva Glostrum. High Summoner in Glour. She's a friend, though I haven't seen her for a few years.'

  'I sometimes think you know everyone, Ma.'

  'I meet most of them through the Council.'

  'I suppose you would.'

  Chapter Four

  Images flickered across the bulletin board in the centre of Glour City, headlines repeating themselves on a rotating schedule. Eva Glostrum browsed through to the society pages, seeking her own name. She didn't have to search long: the story was the first to flash up onto the board.

  This Author has often remarked on the inability of any Gentleman to capture the lasting interest of the celebrated Lady Glostrum. The High Summoner's independent status is to come to an end at last, however, as it has just been confirmed that she is to wed Lord Vale on the eleventh of the Seventh Moon of the year! Lord Vale also revealed his intention to resign as Chief Investigator immediately after the wedding. Speculation is rife as to who will take over the coveted role...

  The article was accompanied by portraits of the couple. Eyde's was respectable enough, but Eva winced when she caught sight of hers. It was not particularly flattering. Her hair was a little disordered and shadows smudged the pale skin beneath her eyes. When had that image been taken? She hadn't noticed anybody with an image-capture in the last day or two. The bulletin team was getting very good. If only they had used an image from last night's ball, she would have been rather happier with the report.

  The article had a great deal more to say about the matter, not resisting a comment or two about Lady Glostrum's 'reputation' and the suitability of the match. Eva smiled to herself. Yes, it was a highly suitable match; she had made sure of that.

  'What an unusual picture.' Eva's friend Meesa Wrobsley stood at her shoulder, studying the board with the closest attention. 'Wherever did they get that?'

  Eva shrugged one slim shoulder carelessly. 'Probably somebody caught me on my way home the night before last. I was a little tired.'

  'More importantly, you were disordered. I'm sure there's at least one hair out of place in that picture. Maybe more.'

  Eva gave a mock shudder. 'I know. Unthinkable. I'll have to make up for this lapse somehow.'

  'Don't get too much more perfect, I beg you. An occasional lapse in you is comforting for the rest of us.'

  'Perfect? Nonsense. I just like things to be in their proper places, that's all.'

  'I know it well. That's why I'm surprised you let that pretty ring out of your sight. Its proper place was firmly on your finger, I thought.'

  Eva glanced down at her slender white hand, bare of jewellery. 'It had to be resized. It kept sliding off my finger.'

  'But you lost the ring anyway.'

  'How could I know that the jeweller would be robbed?' Eva turned and began to walk slowly back towards the carriage that awaited her nearby. The theft of her ring had disheartened her more than she was prepared to admit. More than that, it troubled her. She had left the ring with the jeweller overnight, and by the time the Night Cloak lifted at moonrise, the ring was gone. The jeweller, poor man, knew himself to be the obvious suspect, but the sight of his broken windows and disordered shop convinced Eva that he told the truth: someone had broken in during the darkest hours with the specific purpose of finding that one item. How had anybody known that it was there? The notion that someone had been watching her actions was disturbing.

  'Isn't she a friend of yours, the maker?'

  'Her mother is.'

  'Well, maybe you can get a new one made.'

  'I'm not sure I want one.'

  Meesa blinked at her, her mouth dropping open in surprise. 'Don't want an istore ring? Everyone wants an istore ring, including you. I hardly saw it off your finger until yesterday.'

  'Yes, but now it's an official trend I can't possibly have anything more to do with it.'

  Meesa rolled her eyes. 'True; nobody
ever caught you following a trend.'

  'Setting them, maybe.'

  'Well, set a trend for something new then. I'm getting an istore piece of my own, and I don't want everyone to think I was just copying you.'

  'What? I didn't know you were even interested.'

  'Of course I am. It's far too beautiful to be ignored. Numinar ordered it for me. It's an anniversary gift.'

  Eva found herself with nothing to say. She felt a vague sense of foreboding that puzzled her. A few days ago she might have sincerely congratulated her friend on the acquisition of a prized piece, but now she was changing her mind. Barely a week had passed since the Sanfaers had turned up at the Darklands Market with their unusual bejewelled wares, but enthusiasm for the strange gem had circulated with astonishing speed. Everybody wanted an istore piece. A popular fashion paper had rushed through a special article about the jewellery and its enigmatic maker, doubling its readership virtually overnight. Eva had been interviewed three times in as many days for the society pages, finding herself the subject of some unusual interest for being among the first to acquire an istore item. With each new article she received a fresh storm of requests to borrow or offers of purchase. Demand had risen so high that the prices had swiftly doubled, then quadrupled as the Sanfaer girl fought to keep up.

  And now it seemed some had taken to theft in their pursuit of this new status symbol. In light of all of this, Eva could not feel entirely pleased about her friend's anniversary gift.

  'Just be careful with it, Meesa.'

  'No worries there. I shan't take it off my finger.'

  ***

  In the coach, Meesa sank back against the comfortably cushioned seats, smiling. She loved Eva's coach almost more than Eva did herself.

  'You know, I can hardly believe what's become of you.'

  Eva glanced round, surprised. 'What? You speak as though I've become some kind of delinquent.'

  Meesa grinned. 'Stopped being, more like. At school you were the rebel, always breaking the rules and pushing your luck. Now look at you. A model peer, a member of the government, and now you decide to get married. And just like that, you'll turn your favourite lover into your husband and become the perfect married woman. No doubt with a perfect brood of children on the way in due course.' Meesa wrinkled her nose. 'I can't decide if you're still the same Eva under all that perfect conformity.'

  Eva rolled her eyes. 'Wisdom comes with age, or something. I was stupid when I was at school. It took me some time to understand why the rules are there, that's all.'

  'And somehow, two decades later, this translates into a sudden urge to get married and reproduce.'

  'Oh, stop probing.'

  'Sorry, can't help it. I'm curious. I still can't believe you're actually going ahead with it.'

  Eva sighed. 'I was fifteen when I inherited my father's title. He spent his whole life working towards it, and then he died within a year of being appointed to the peerage. And me? I was just throwing it all away.'

  'I thought you didn't even like your father.'

  'I didn't, but that's not the point.'

  It isn't?'

  'A peerage is more important than my personal feelings for my father. Anyway, I feel like maybe my mother would've been disappointed in me.'

  'You didn't even know your mother. I suppose this is your idea of explaining, but it isn't making any more sense.'

  Eva shrugged. 'I tried. It makes sense to me, anyway.'

  'Fine. I just hope you won't regret it. I'm pretty sure it isn't really... you.'

  Eva turned her head and stared out of the window. She wouldn't dream of admitting that she had doubts, but Meesa knew her well. These, however, were unproductive thoughts. Her decision was made, for clear, rational reasons, and she wouldn't be dissuaded from it now.

  ***

  Eva's coachman dropped Meesa off at the house she shared with her husband, and Eva rode the distance to her own house in solitary silence. Her thoughts wandered away from her own concerns and returned to the curious stone. She remembered Llandry's face, so like her mother's, completely guileless as she answered Eva's questions. It was hard to believe that such a thing merely lay in a cave in Glinnery, for anybody to stumble over, and yet nobody had; even now, it seemed that Llandry alone knew of its location. She knew that Llandry had been implored to give interviews; for days the papers had been printing hearsay about Llandry Sanfaer along with regretful statements about her lack of availability. She hoped the girl had the sense to keep her head down, but she feared for her. Something about Llandry had struck her as a little odd, even a little bit fey. She'd performed her role as if she viewed the market and her customers from a great distance, her mind elsewhere. Did she realise what had become of her presence at the Market? Any second appearance must be highly inadvisable. The girl would be mobbed.

  The coach was moving at a steady pace, just passing a mail station. Eva called for a halt and went inside, assuaging her unease by dispatching a note to Ynara. She watched the pale-winged bird fly away into the night, her note forming a neat ring around its leg. She remembered her own words to Llandry at the market: If I were you, I would keep the location quite a secret. I think this will prove to be very valuable. Apparently Llandry had followed her advice. Had she been right to suggest it? No doubt the profits were princely by now, but Llandry would not be left in sole possession of the gem for long.

  Eyde was waiting for her when she arrived home. He greeted her with delight, enfolding her in an embrace. She submitted to it for a few moments before pulling away, gently but firmly. She allowed him to kiss her, briefly, then busied herself pouring a drink for him.

  'Is the announcement up?'

  She blinked at him, confused. 'What?'

  'Of our engagement.'

  'Oh. Yes. It's all over the bulletin.'

  He nodded. 'The boys'll know about it by now, then.' The 'boys' were his team of investigators; almost all men, because the job could be a dangerous one. Women didn't often sign up. Eva had met very few of them, but those she encountered impressed her with their earnest manner and intensity of focus. On the other hand, they did tend to seem horrifyingly young. It made her feel old.

  She realised she hadn't answered him. She gave him a distracted smile as she donned a silk shawl, wrapping the fabric closely around herself. She curled up in her favourite chair, conscious of his eyes on her.

  'Any news on the robbery at the jewellers?'

  'I'm afraid not. I've got a couple of people working on it, though. We'll get your ring back.'

  'I'm not that worried about the ring, Eyde.'

  'No? You seemed very attached to it.'

  'I shouldn't have been. It's not healthy to be so fascinated by a stone.'

  He frowned at her quizzically. 'What's brought on this change of heart?'

  'Don't you think it's odd, how people are behaving over it?'

  He chuckled. 'No more so than any other trend. Remember when you wore that gown with one shoulder missing? I don't think any seamstress in Glour got a proper night's sleep for a whole moon afterwards.'

  She laughed. 'And that's hardly the only time it's happened. Perhaps you're right.'

  'Of course I am. What happened to that gown, by the way? I liked it.'

  'Oh, I have it somewhere.'

  'You should wear it again. Maybe at our wedding.'

  'That would be far too cruel. Those poor tailors need time to recover.'

  'Maybe a new gown, then, in a similar style. In blue. I like you in blue.'

  She tugged her shawl closer around herself with a sharp movement, feeling unaccountably irritable. 'It's too soon to be thinking about the wedding.'

  'It's barely a moon away. We ought to begin planning it soon.'

  'Only a moon? No, surely not.' She frowned, silently counting the days. He was right. A sigh escaped her at the prospect, and she avoided his eyes.

  'Eva, darling.'

  Obliged to look up, she arranged her features into a cool expression.
r />   'Are you quite sure about this?'

  'This?'

  'The wedding. Marrying me.'

  'You have asked me that already, Eyde.'

  'Yes, but still, you don't seem...' He floundered, groping for the right word.

  'I don't seem what? In love?'

  Her bluntness made him blink. 'I- yes. I suppose that's what I intended to say.'

  'We've discussed this.'

  He sat down opposite her, running a large hand through his close-cropped grey hair. 'Why did you ask me to marry you?'

  'I believe I explained that at the time.'

  'Tell me again.'

  'It makes sense. You are of a similar social standing; of a suitable age for me; we have known each other for long enough to have a comfortable friendship. A partnership between us is likely to be beneficial.'

  He looked at her sadly. 'Beneficial? Sense? Friendship? Eva. That cannot be all that you expect from a marriage.'

  'Why should anybody expect more?'

  'You've heard of love, I presume.'

  Her lips twisted. 'I've heard of it. I've also heard of a few other things that don't exist.'

  'Love doesn't exist?'

  'Not in the way people describe.'

  'If you believe that, why marry at all?'

  'It's time.'

  'I see. And these are your reasons for choosing me.'

  She sighed, growing impatient. 'Why wait until after the announcement to question me about this? It's going to be awkward to change your mind now.'

  'Oh, I've no intention of changing my mind. I've drawn the greatest prize in Glour, you realise.'

  'Only you wish it was different.'

  'No.' He paused, thinking. 'No. But I might hope you'll come to think differently in time.'

  She looked at the ceiling. 'If anyone can change my mind I daresay it will be you.'

  He didn't answer for a while. When she looked back at him, he gave her a tiny, tenuous smile. 'Maybe.'

  He stood up suddenly, breaking the tension. He smiled down at her. 'I ought to be going. Oh, how's my shortig coming along?'