The Draykon Series Books 1-3

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Llandry stood on the edge of the Darklands Market, watching the surging crowds of Daylanders and Darklanders who gathered to admire and purchase its myriad wares. Held on the southern edge of Glour, its position within the Seven Realms was nearly central, and it attracted visitors from most of the realms. She saw many Glour citizens browsing the stalls, dressed in full gowns or tailored coats, their hair typically dark brown or black. Many small, slender Glinnish folk were present, honey-skinned and winged like herself. She saw a group of Orstwych Sorcerers, their draping robes painted in every imaginable colour. Nimdrens filled the air with their musical tongue, their chatter mingling oddly with the precise, clipped speech of Irbellian shoppers. Llandry regarded them all uneasily, hiding herself within the folds of her dark blue cloak.

Every single one of these people represented a threat. She knew that if any of them spoke to her, she would freeze and stammer, unable to string sentences together under the pressure of their expectant gaze. And yet, she was here as a vendor. It was her job to be communicative.

How she wished she had her mother’s easy way with strangers. Nothing ever fazed Mamma. She had all the confidence that Llandry had never known; she conducted herself in company with a combination of easy friendliness and quiet, firm dignity that enchanted people. Llandry loved her with a fierce pride and loyalty, but she could not help suffering envy. How she wished she could learn that skill. As it was, she had reached the age of twenty without developing so much as a shred of it.

She gathered her courage and stepped into the throng. Threading her way carefully through the crowds, she clutched her cloak close to herself as if it could protect her from their glances, their curiosity, their words. Her stall was near the outer edge of the market - she had chosen a location near to the relatively open spaces of the Glour woodlands, in case she should feel the need to escape. Her lips quirked involuntarily at the thought. As if she should feel the need? It would be a miracle if she survived more than an hour of this nightmarish experience without disintegrating.

The market was always held during the natural night hours, and the moon shone full overhead. But the skies held a scattering of thick clouds, stunting the progress of the moon’s gentle light. To correct this, the market organisers had set floating light-globes drifting low overhead, illuminating the stalls with a cool white glow. The effect was gentle to Llandry’s eyes, just sufficient to see by; but she noticed that many of the Darklanders wore spectacles with dark lenses in them, as if the light conditions hurt their eyes. She’d kept the lights on her own stall to a minimum in response. As a result, she could barely see the expression of anxiety on her mother’s face as she stood guarding the stall.

‘Mamma? Is something wrong?’

‘Goodness, no. No, love, nothing’s wrong. I was wondering if you are all right.’ She smiled, but Llandry could still see the shadow of concern in her face. She sighed inwardly. If her social inadequacies were a source of pain to her, they were a still greater source of anxiety to her parents. The thought added guilt to Llandry’s troubled mixture of feelings about herself. She hid it behind a smile and hugged Ynara.

‘It’s kind of you, Mamma, but I’m really all right. I have to learn, don’t I?’

Ynara shrugged slightly, bending to assist as Llandry began to unpack her boxes. They worked quickly, and soon her table was covered with Llandry’s jewellery. Gems in rich colours sparkled and winked in the light, polished metals gleaming with a cooler sheen. The best went in the centre, her prize pieces: pendants, rings and circlets of pale silver set with her precious istore stones. They seemed to swallow the silvery light and throw it back out, gleaming pale and twinkling under the moonlight. Truly they displayed to their best under the night time conditions.

As a new vendor, Llandry had expected - nay, hoped - to go largely unnoticed at her first market. To her extreme surprise (and terror) she soon found that her wares were attracting considerable attention. Most of those who passed her stall stopped to admire her work, and many bought. They exclaimed over the richness of the colours, the intricacy of her metalwork, and most of all they pored over the istore stones.

‘I’ve never seen anything like this before. Where did it come from?’

‘By the Lowers, there’s a sight. Like night itself caught in the metal. Remarkable.’

‘What’s this dark one, the one with the silvery sheen? What’s it called? Istore? Never heard of it! Where does it come from?’

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.’