Draykon (16 page)

She nodded
vaguely, becoming too aware of that smile. She looked back at the
floor, feeling awkward, and drifted to the balcony rail, seeking an
excuse to avoid Devary's gaze. To her dismay he followed her,
settling only a couple of feet away. Much too close... and he was
looking at her again, trying to catch her eye.

'Llandry?'

'Mhm.'

'You do not like
me very much. Is there something I did to offend you?'

Curse him, he
actually sounded sad about it. 'Why should it matter?' she said,
almost savage. 'You're here for Mamma.'

'I - well, yes,
but that doesn't mean-' He broke off. She glanced at him, briefly.
He looked bewildered and sorry. She dug her fingers into the
balcony rail, wishing he would go away.

'I don't dislike
you.'

'You behave as if
you do.'

She struggled
with herself helplessly. How could she possibly explain?

'I don't dislike
you,' she said again.

He looked away.
'All right,' he said, after a moment.

She wanted to
apologise, but she couldn't find the words. 'I just
don't...'

'Don't
what?'

She looked at her
hands. 'I need time to get used to you.'

He didn't
understand, obviously. Probably he was one of those people who
easily charmed others. That smile was dangerous enough.

'Well,' he said
awkwardly, 'I'll be around for a while. I hope we can get along,
more or less.'

She merely
nodded, tired of the effort of speech. He waited for a response for
a while, then seemed to give up.

'I'll be going
out again soon. After I sleep, a little.'

'All right,' she
said.

He nodded and
turned to leave the balcony.

'Devary? Why are
you here, really?'

He stopped and
looked back over his shoulder at her. 'Really? I came to see your
mother.'

'I know, but...'
She fumbled for words. She couldn't ask her question without
admitting she had eavesdropped before.

He sighed and
turned around. 'We were friends, years ago, but... things did not
end well with your mother. My visit was not as it should have been,
and she was right to reproach me. When I tried to see her again,
she hadn't forgiven me.' He smiled slightly. 'You were only about
two years old at that time. You looked like your mother, even
then.'

'What
happened?'

'I don't think I
would like to explain in more detail. I hope you will understand
that. It was all a long time ago.'

Llandry sighed
inwardly, but she didn't press him. 'Has she forgiven you
now?'

'I think so. I
hope so.' He gave her a crooked smile and left.

Curses. She hated
family secrets, but neither Devary nor her parents would discuss
this one with her. Ignoring the tug of unsatisfied curiosity,
Llandry restored her sapphire to the bench and took up her tools
again. She had to work carefully around her injured arm: the wounds
had knit firmly, but her muscles were still weak. As she worked,
she became distantly aware of an odd sound.

Clack clack
clack
.

Turning, she
observed Sigwide in his basket. Since he preferred to be near
Llandry at all times, a bed had been placed for him on the balcony.
Devary had done it without being asked, layering it up with
blankets and even a small pillow. Sig had obviously promoted it to
the position of favourite bed, for he spent a great deal of time in
it.

Curled up and
sleeping, normally, but now he was turning and turning, his jaws
working, his sharp teeth clacking loudly on something
hard.

‘
Sig,
what are you eating?' She felt for his thoughts, but for once he
wasn't sharing. Llandry crossed the balcony, crouched down, and
picked him up. He squealed in protest and wriggled, but she
maintained her grip.

In the centre of
Sigwide's blankets rested a large stone, indigo in colour, gleaming
silver when the light hit it. A surge of excitement rushed through
her. Tucking Sigwide - still protesting - under one arm, she
scooped up the istore stone. Holding it in her hands gave her that
familiar and so welcome feeling of calm and well-being, and
sharpened her senses.

'Sig, you
little...
thief
.' He was fighting hard to be released and at
last succeeded in squirming free of her grasp. He rushed at the
stone, trying to win it back. She saw his mind clearly: he
remembered taking the stone off her desk when her back was turned
one day. There had been several lying in a cluster on her work
bench, and she hadn't noticed the absence of one piece.

She also gathered
that he felt - very strongly - that he was the rightful owner of
the stone and felt hard-used at her capture of it.

'You as well,
hm?' It hadn't occurred to her that the widespread covetousness
over this curious gem might also extend to animals. She chuckled at
his distress, calming him with a quick hug.

'A deal, Siggy.
We will share this one, all right? We can take it in turns to look
after it.' She replaced the stone in the centre of his bed and he
immediately curled up around it, looking like the draykons of
legend with his long body wound around his treasure. 'You can have
it for the rest of today.' The istore was trouble, undoubtedly, but
this one was an unexpected bonus, a secret gift. It would be kept
hidden, a private satisfaction only to herself.

Inspired, Llandry
decimated her silver supplies and applied herself to the creation
of the ideal setting for the stone. She didn't want to be stuffing
it into a pocket or burying it in a bag; it ought to be worn next
to the skin. Working with extreme care - her arm still twinged
painfully if she overdid it - she crafted a pendant and chain of
pale icy-white silver. As an afterthought, she engraved the metal
with stars as a tribute to her original inspiration. The pendant
was constructed to grip the stone in its hollow centre, allowing
the back of the istore to sit directly against her skin.

The soft notes of
a skilfully-played lyre reached her ears as she worked: Devary
working at his hobby. He spent some time at this every day,
plucking fluid notes from the golden strings and singing in his
deep voice. She could not understand the words, but the melodies
were glorious by themselves. He seemed to be composing something
today; the music came in snatches, gradually lengthening into a
full song. His voice was compelling; she felt an agreeable shiver
when he sang, like a breath of cool wind over her skin. She wanted
to go into the other room and listen, but she did not dare to
intrude.

A streak of grey
interrupted her thoughts. Sigwide's small form shot across the
balcony, moving at speed. Llandry glanced up as Sigwide, yipping,
hurtled after a scrap of flickering colour that hovered dangerously
close to the balcony's edge. She dropped her tools and dived in
pursuit, her wings unfurling with a snap. She stretched out her
hands and caught the orting just as he leaped, heedlessly, into the
open air.

'Oh, Sig...' She
breathed the words in tones of despair and relief, clutching him
close. He jerked his head this way and that, his jaws moving oddly.
He had something in his mouth.

Applying her
fingers and thumb either side of his jaw, she pressed firmly. His
mouth reluctantly opened, and something colourful fell to the
floor.

'Sig, what have
you done?' She scooped the thing up and took both creatures inside,
shutting the balcony door before she released Sigwide. He retreated
from her, muttering.

The thing he had
caught was only a few inches long from nose to tip, fitting into
the palm of her hand. It lay on its side, weakly flapping lightly
furred wings of jade green and rose. Its slender body was covered
in soft, pearly fur, and it sported a long, oddly curled tail and a
thin snout. Its four legs scratched at her skin without inflicting
any damage: apparently it lacked claws. It looked like a miniature
drauk crossed with a daefly.

It lay still,
finally, and she worried that it had died; but it breathed still,
its furred sides heaving in panicked hyperventilation. She couldn't
see any wounds.

'Just shock,
then,' she murmured.

'What?'

She looked up
guiltily. She'd forgotten Devary for a moment.

'Sorry. I...
found something.'

'Oh?' He stood up
to come and look. He had to stand quite close to see the colourful
little oddity that lay in her palm.

'Curious,' he
said mildly. 'Another escapee from the Uppers, by the looks of
it.'

She nodded,
trying to ignore his unsettling proximity.

'Sig ate it,' she
said.

'He is a fearsome
hunter,' he replied with a smile. 'What will you do with it? I do
not think it can fly.'

'Mm.' She moved
away from him, carrying the thing up to her chamber. She laid it in
a nest of soft fabric in the warmest part of the room, and left it
to recover. She prudently closed the door as she left, keeping
Sigwide out.

She didn't
realise Devary had followed her. She found him standing on the
landing, hovering politely outside the door to her room. He smiled
as she emerged.

'Do you think it
will live?'

'Hard to say,'
she replied. 'If it lives until tomorrow, it might be all
right.'

'I like it,' he
said. 'It is pretty. Do you know what kind of creature it
is?'

'I've never seen
anything like it before.'

'A pity; neither
have I. Perhaps your mother will know.'

She nodded her
head in agreement, wondering why he had followed her. Silence fell,
and she sought for something else to say.

'I enjoyed your
song.'

His brows lifted
in surprise. 'I didn't realise you were listening.'

'I can hear you
quite well on the balcony.'

'You like
music?'

'I like
yours.'

He smiled,
gratified. 'You play an instrument yourself, perhaps.'

'I never learned.
Unfortunately.'

'Unfortunately?'

'Well. I
sometimes think it might be nice.'

'I could teach
you a little, if you like.'

She thought fast.
On the one hand, the prospect of spending any considerable length
of time with Devary filled her with trepidation. She had survived
thus far by limiting the amount of time she spent in the same room
with him.

On the other
hand...

She looked up at
his handsome face, his hazel eyes friendly and inviting.

'Thank you,' she
said. 'Why not?'

She spent the
next hour seated cross-legged on the floor of the parlour, her left
knee pressed against Devary's. She cradled the beautiful lyre in
her lap, tentatively plucking the slender golden strings according
to his direction. She blushed every time she made an error, but he
didn't seem to notice. She took to the art rapidly, enjoying the
sensation of the metallic strings under her deft fingers, revelling
in every shimmering note she produced. Devary smiled and
complimented her and taught her a short, simple song; by the end of
the day she could play it quite comfortably.

Singing, however,
she outright refused to do. Nothing he could say could prevail upon
her to expose her singing voice to his scrutiny. In the end, she
played and he sang. It seemed a perfect arrangement to
her.

By the following
day, Llandry had mastered her song and was rapidly learning
another.

'You are a
natural, I think,' said Devary. 'You must go to Nimdre someday, and
learn from a real professional.'

'You aren't a
professional?'

He smiled
complacently. 'No, no; I am a poor hobbyist only. I play for my own
pleasure, and I do not often teach.'

'Oh, I thought...
then, what is your profession?'

'Ah, well. I
travel a lot, and sometimes I do play to an audience. It is not the
same thing as being a true
professional
, you
understand.'

Llandry didn't.
He played like a master to her ears. Her fingers missed their mark
as she pondered this and a wrong note sounded jarringly. Frowning
down at the strings, Llandry said, 'I am doing you little credit as
a student. Perhaps it's time for a break.'

'Certainly,' he
replied, bowing his head. He rose and offered her a hand up.
Ignoring it, she jumped lightly to her feet, thrusting the lyre at
him.

'I'd like to...'
An odd noise broke the peace of the house, coming from somewhere
behind her. It reminded her of the sounds Sigwide made when he was
angry.

'Moment,' she
murmured, padding through to the balcony. 'Sig?'

Sigwide stood
near the balcony rail, faced off against a beast she'd never seen
before. It was five times the orting's size, scaled and clawed,
with a snout that snapped warningly at Sigwide as it advanced. The
orting refused to move, growling deep in his throat. He was
answered with a roar as the creature charged.