Draykon (19 page)

Eva gestured to
the small hound at her feet, though she kept the gwaystrel hidden
in the folds of her cloak.

'I am a
summoner,' she said. 'My arts aid the search.'

Mrs. Geslin
turned away her face. She led them into a small parlour, shooing
away three young children as she went. A fourth, slightly older
child sat stubbornly in the parlour, resisting dismissal. She was a
little prettier than her brother, though she had the same thin
brown hair and pale face.

'Mindra,' said
Mrs. Geslin, warningly. The girl sighed and sloped away. Eva was
motioned to the chair that she had occupied.

'I can't offer
you anything,' said Mrs. Geslin, with a fierceness that seemed to
dare complaint.

'That's all
right,' said Tren quickly. 'We are quite well fed.' He cleared his
throat uncomfortably. 'Mrs. Geslin, am I right in thinking that Ed
was sending you money every moon? Had he been doing so for a long
time?'

'All he could
afford,' she said sadly. 'I never wanted to be taking his money,
but we couldn't manage without it.' Her eyes blazed suddenly. 'I
know what they're saying about my boy. You tell me. Does a man
who'll give every penny he has to his family become a thief? A
murderer
?'

Tren made a
placating gesture. 'I'm as certain as you are that he didn't do
those things. But there's no doubt he is involved somehow. He is
certainly the person who altered the agreed boundaries of the Night
Cloak. It's my belief somebody put him up to that, and we need to
find out who. And why.'

Mrs. Geslin
nodded and sat down next to Tren. He picked up one of her hands and
squeezed it encouragingly. She cast him a small, grateful
smile.

'There isn't much
to tell,' she began. 'But I knew something wasn't right. For two
years Ed's been sending us everything he could spare, and probably
more. But he knew it wasn't enough, not with me out of work and
four to feed besides. He began sending more, much more. He wouldn't
tell me where he got the extra money.'

She took a deep
breath, her spare hand joining the one Tren held. She gripped him
as if clutching a lifeline. 'He came home, a few days ago. He had
money with him, more of it than ever before. He said it would be
enough to keep us for several moons, while he went away. He was
going travelling, he said, and for some time, though he wouldn't
say where or why. I knew he must have done something that wasn't
right. Then the papers came, with their pictures and their nasty
tales.' She stopped, her grip tightening on Tren's fingers. She
looked like she must be hurting him by now, her knuckles white with
strain, but he didn't move.

'A few days ago?'
said Tren, thoughtfully. 'Did he give you any idea at all where he
went?'

'No,' she said.
'I tried to make him tell me. All he would say was that he had
something to put right.'

Tren frowned. 'He
wasn't running away from something?'

Mrs. Geslin shook
her head. 'Eddie wouldn't run from a mess he'd made. He'd put it
right somehow.'

'Mrs. Geslin,'
said Eva. 'What did you mean by what you said to me? "Pale-haired
witch"?'

'Ed met someone.
Before all this happened, it would've been. He joked about it once,
asking me if I'd mind him bringing a witch into the family, one of
them pale-haired ones. Folk say they're more powerful.' She paused,
looking intently at Eva. 'Is that true?'

Eva spread her
hands. 'I'm a powerful summoner but I can't say if the colour of my
hair has anything to do with it. I think it's just a
myth.'

Mrs. Geslin
nodded. 'Ed didn't really believe it either, but he was serious
about this woman. I thought maybe she had something to do with
it.'

'Why?' asked
Tren. 'Did he suggest that when you saw him last?'

She hesitated.
'It's just a feeling I got.'

Tren sighed.
'It's not much to go on. True white is an unusual hair colour, but
not that rare. However, we'll look into it. Did he say anything
else about her that might help?'

'Nothing. He said
I'd find out for myself soon. But that was before.'

'Before?'

'Before he was in
trouble. A few days ago he wouldn't talk of it at all.'

'Ah, well. It all
helps.' He looked seriously at Mrs. Geslin. 'I'll be doing
everything I can for Ed, please believe me.'

Their
leave-taking from Mrs. Geslin was painful on Tren's part and
impatient on Finshay's. Eva felt subdued as she left the shabby
house and its weary mistress. The children clustered forlornly
around their mother as she bid farewell to her son's pursuers.
Eva's last glimpse of Mrs. Geslin was her face, drawn and sad, as
she closed the door behind them.

Tren's obvious
pain was distressing. Eva knew there was nothing she could do, but
she couldn't ignore it. She touched his arm lightly, trying to get
his attention as he walked in an apparent daze. He looked up
quizzically.

'We'll find him,'
she said. 'Everything will be well.'

'Maybe,' he said.
He looked away. 'I'm trying to imagine what he might be doing. I
think his mother is right: whatever he's up to, it isn't running
away. Whether that's better or worse, I don't know.'

'You think he
might place himself in danger?'

'Say he moved the
Night Cloak. I can imagine his horror at everything that happened
afterwards. It wouldn't have taken him long to realise that they
were all connected. If he thought he knew something about who was
behind it, would he have taken it to Vale? Could he have? He
must've realised he would be blamed: that it would be hard for
anyone to believe him. I fear he's gone after the perpetrator by
himself.' He smiled without humour. 'I wish he had told me about
it, but he wouldn't; not if it might put me in danger,
too.'

The shortig at
Eva's feet stopped abruptly. It cast about in the street for some
minutes, watched intently by its audience of three. Then it lifted
its head and yipped, taking off down a side street at speed. Eva
followed the shortig at a trot, opening her cloak and shaking
Rikbeek loose. He snapped at her hands grumpily, trying to fold his
wings again, but she tossed him into the sky. He flew upwards and
out of sight.

'Well, here we
go.' Eva split her thoughts, sending part of her awareness ahead
with the shortig and part upwards to follow the gwaystrel. The
trail brought the company rapidly to the east gate of Westrarc, and
out into the hills beyond.

Chapter Thirteen

Llandry lifted
her cordial to her lips. A tremor wracked her and the bottle
slipped, spilling the oily herbal concoction over her chin. She set
the vessel down quickly, wiping at her face with a handkerchief.
She was up to twice the usual dose, but still the attacks came.
Most of her night had been spent wide awake, staring into the
darkness feeling panic on the edge of her awareness, waiting for
the medicine to wear off.

She didn't even
know what she was afraid of. Normally the attacks came when she
found herself surrounded, buried in a crowd of people. Sometimes,
on her worst days, she couldn't address so much as a syllable to a
stranger without succumbing to a bout of trembling and
hyperventilation. It had been a lamentably common occurrence since
her early teenage years.

The experience
shouldn't be remarkable, then, even if the attacks did seem to be
happening more frequently. But something was different. Added to
the embarrassing loss of control over her own limbs, to the
humiliating inability to speak or breathe, was a sensation of
struggle
, as if her mind was trying to claw its way out of
her body. Or as if her body wished to invert itself. It was growing
increasingly difficult to hide it from her mother, or even from
Devary, who had a habit of appearing noiselessly and unexpectedly
at times when she might definitely prefer to be alone.

At the moment he
was downstairs, working on his new song. The familiar melody
drifted up to her bedchamber, calming her a little. At least while
he was playing, he wouldn't walk in on her. She was free to restore
her appearance to order, remove all signs of her torturous night
before she ventured down. At length she stepped out of her room,
hair brushed and clothing neat, hoping she might make it to the
kitchen without being stopped.

Apparently he was
on the watch, for as soon as she reached the bottom of the winding
stairs he set down his lyre and approached, wearing the usual
smile.

'Is everything
well with you? It is unusually late.'

Since when was he
paying attention to her daily routine? 'I'm fine,' she said curtly,
belatedly noticing that he wore a bandage wrapped around one arm.
'What happened to you?'

'There was
another intruder in the night,' he replied.

'You killed it,
didn't you?'

'You were not
around.'

Llandry shook her
head in disgust, stalking into the kitchen. To her dismay he
followed, seating himself at the table while she prepared tea. She
knew she ought to eat but her stomach rebelled at the notion. She
filled a teapot, with very poor grace, and gave him a
cup.

'Thanks,' he
smiled. 'Llandry, why are you not employed as a summoner? Your
ability was quite apparent yesterday.'

She scowled into
her tea, refusing to look at him. 'That is private.'

'Is it? I am
sorry. It is not my intention to pry.'

Llandry sighed
inwardly. If he'd only pushed, it would have been much easier to
continue being ungracious and rude. His habitual courtesy was
disarming.

'I'm sorry. I'm
just... in a poor mood. I wanted to train as a summoner, but my
father forbade it.'

'Forbade?'

'Well.' She
reconsidered. 'That is not the right word. He... talked me out of
it.'

'That, I do not
understand. The profession is highly respected in all the Seven
Realms, along with sorcery. You would be guaranteed a well-paid
position. Why would he discourage you?'

'Pa's never
trusted the Off-Worlds. He thinks they're too dangerous. If I'd
insisted, he would have been terrified every time I was sent to the
Uppers, and that's an important part of training.'

Devary swirled
his tea in his cup, gazing thoughtfully at Llandry. 'Your father
seems to be too pragmatic a man to entertain such
fears.'

'Not much scares
Papa, that's true.' For a moment Llandry was silent, debating how
much to tell him. It was odd that her mother hadn't already shared
this piece of her husband's history: perhaps she didn't wish for
Devary to know.

'Why then should
he distrust the Upper Realm in this way?'

'You should ask
Mamma about that.'

He smiled. 'But I
am asking you.'

She sighed. 'It's
because of my grandfather. He was a summoner, a strong one. Pa said
he became obsessed with the Uppers, kept going back, spending more
time there than he should. One day he didn't come back. Pa said he
wouldn't sit by and watch while his daughter got herself killed up
there too.'

'Ah.' Devary said
nothing more, apparently drifting off into thought.

'If you're
allowed to pressure me for information, I get to ask a question
too,' said Llandry.

'That is a fair
trade,' said Devary gravely. 'One question.'

'You're the most
civilised person I've met, next to Mamma. You have perfect manners.
You're a wonderful musician and the picture of a gentleman. Why
would you be carrying daggers?'

He smiled
briefly. 'I suppose it is inevitable that you would ask. That,
unfortunately, is a question I cannot answer.'

'Unfair.'

'It is, is it
not? Perhaps I should say, I do not wish to answer it. I think you
are beginning to like me, just a little, and I would not wish to
destroy that.'

Llandry eyed him.
'I have come to believe you are mostly harmless, yes. It is not the
same thing as liking.'

His eyes laughed
at her. 'I see. It is my mistake.'

'So you have a
secret that I wouldn't like?'

'More than one, I
fear. Ask me another question. I remain in debt to you by one
query.'

Llandry thought
back to the previous day. 'I've seen sorcs work before. They can
open gates in seconds. Why did it take you so long?'

'An unflattering
question, but a deal is a deal. I am not a very good sorcerer.
Also, I am from Nimdre. It is true that I can open gates to either
of the Off-Worlds, but that comes at the price of foregoing the
closer bond enjoyed by those from the Daylands or Darklands. To a
Darklands sorcerer, it is as simple as reaching out, and the paths
through to the Lowers are at your fingertips. Or so I believe. I,
however, must search before I can find the way.' He set down his
cup and stood up. 'If that concludes our arrangement, I must
investigate the problem of these visitors we have been receiving.
You will observe that I have enclosed the house; please do not open
any windows or doors while I am gone. I won't be long.' He left,
opening the exterior door only a few inches and slipping carefully
through. Llandry heard the key turn in the lock, and she was
alone.