Orlind

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Trapped somewhere under the weight of her dreams, Llandry Sanfaer was unable to wake. Her conscious mind had been thoroughly subdued and her dream-self refused to release it.

This fact did not trouble Llandry overmuch. In fact, she had never felt less troubled in her life. It seemed to her that she occupied a perfect world, her dreams so full of tranquil colour that she never wished to leave. Her mamma was there, healed and well and restored to her usual beloved self. Papa was with her as well, and Sigwide of course. Their house had become an island, floating high over the glittering glissenwol forests of her home, the realm of Glinnery. Up there the weather was always beautiful and the air sweet, and no hint of trouble could reach them.

Some small part of her knew that her mind lied. She felt the perilous weight of care and trouble and harm that hung poised over her life, felt it as a distant shadow that threatened her perfect happiness. All her strength of will was gone, drained away while she lay insensate day after day. There was only the weak and frightened part of her soul, and that part of her only fled harder from the threat of disaster.

And so she floated quietly along in her beautiful dream and time wandered past. She felt that she had a guardian, some silent but immoveable presence that watched over her idyllic existence and kept all dangers far from her. This presence had never said a word, and she had never seen the particular form that it took; but she knew that it — he — was always there.

Only one day the presence developed a voice. It whispered her name, over and over again until she wanted to scream. The voice grew steadily louder and more insistent, shattering her peace. Then her guardian began to pull at her, tugging with invisible hands, bruising her skin in his eagerness to tear her away from her parents. She felt he would cast her over the edge of her island paradise and she would fall so many miles to the ground. There, of course, she would die. Hurt and bewildered and frightened by her guardian’s betrayal, she fought.

But he was much stronger than she. She had known it all along: therein lay the reason for her profound feeling of safety. As long as her guardian watched over her, all would be well. But when his strength and power were turned against her, she could not long resist. She tried to cling to the soft summer sun that shone on her little island, the clear skies and gentle breeze, her smiling parents and Sigwide asleep in her lap. She screamed her fury as she was dragged inexorably backwards, away from the parents who continued to smile, oblivious, as she was brought to the edge of the precipice and then cast, still screaming, over the side.

She fell, a long, long way. Her precious island receded rapidly until it dwindled to a mere speck in the endless skies. She continued to fall for so long she began to wonder if she would do so forever; perhaps there was no ground in this strange place. And so the impact, when it finally came, took her by surprise.

Agony flared, for a brief, searing instant, and then all awareness faded.

When she opened her eyes once more, she had the sensation that eternity had passed. Relief flooded her at finding herself alive; but that feeling faded when she realised that her perfect world was gone. No soft sunshine met her frightened gaze. The warmth and fragrance of summer was absent. Worse, no Mamma waited to greet her.

Instead, she was in a small, unfamiliar room. She lay in bed, virtually smothered under the weight of several heavy blankets. Armchairs and bookcases and cupboards met her wandering gaze: all mundane, and frighteningly alien. This was not her island, nor was it her home.

Growing frightened, she tried to sit up, but she was swaddled so tightly in her blankets that she could barely move. She tried to speak, but nothing emerged from her raw throat save a faint, and to her ears pathetic, whimper.

Suddenly the blankets were ripped away from her and she was grabbed, dragged into a pair of strong arms and alternately shaken and embraced with crushing force. Somebody was saying something, but it took some moments for her confused brain to let go of its tranquil dream and focus on the reality.

It was Pensould who embraced her, of course. He was apparently torn between relief and anger, for he was scolding her in a stream of words even as he held her to him with enough force to knock all the breath out of her.

‘Who could have guessed that I had saddled myself with such a lazy and indolent minchu?’ he was saying. ‘You will sleep your life away, little i***t, and never spare a thought for those unfortunate beings you leave behind. What of your parents, hm? Will you go into the Long Sleep without even me?’

‘Pensould,’ she managed at last in a dry croak. ‘Stop.’

‘Stop?’ he raged. ‘Is that all you’ve to say to me, wretched one? You ought to be eaten for your laziness. That is what should be done with lazy children like yourself. What more have you to say?’

‘You’re… killing me,’ she gasped.

His arms loosed their choking grip and he sat back a little.

‘It would serve you right, my wicked Minchu, if I did squeeze you to death,’ he retorted. ‘Tis undoubtedly what you deserve for the many, many hours of painful anticipation you’ve given me.’

‘That’s harsh,’ she objected. She might have said more, but she was occupied with replenishing her supply of air.

‘Is it?’ Pensould demanded. ‘Do you deny that you’ve been living in a most-happy dream world while the rest of us fret and worry out our hearts over you?’

‘I don’t deny it,’ she said crossly. ‘It was nice up there.’

He snorted. ‘Of course it was. What you were doing, disgraceful one, was wandering off, merry as a lamb, into your Long Sleep. That is, death, in your terms. Of course it was pleasant.’

He sounded so grumpy that Llan’s heart sank. She had been ripped from her comfortable world and restored, most abruptly, to a reality that offered only disaster and despair. She was distraught enough without suffering such severe disapproval from him as well.

‘I don’t understand,’ she said, easing her weakened body into a sitting position and crossing her legs. ‘I wasn’t dying.’

‘Yes,’ he corrected. ‘You were. That state is precisely the state I placed myself into when I wished to stop living. Its eventual result is the slowing of all bodily processes until they cease, after which the body itself decays. It is a most pleasant way to pass on.’

Llandry felt a flicker of alarm. ‘Then why didn’t you wake me sooner?’

‘It had not occurred to me that you could accomplish the draykon Long Sleep in a human body,’ he snapped. ‘Nor that you would, indolent one. Luckily for us both, the possibility occurred to me in time. I have no idea whether draykon regeneration is also accessible to you in this shape you insist on wearing, and I would not like to test that just at the present.’

It occurred to Llandry that Pensould was at least as angry with himself as he was with her. Possibly more so. That realisation made her feel a little better.

‘Thank you for waking me,’ she said humbly. ‘I didn’t mean to die.’

Pensould sighed. ‘Little ignorant.’

‘Stop being angry with me,’ she begged. ‘I can’t bear it.’ Tears pricked at her eyes, to her intense shame, and her lip wobbled. Her muscles, left unused for so long, were weak and shaking and her mind was a disoriented whirl. And all the cares she’d had before came flooding back to her. She remembered the attack on Waeverleyne by Isand and two other draykoni. That attack had left her mother injured and unable to wake; Llandry had exhausted her own body trying to restore her health. And she knew that Isand’s attack on Glinnery was only the first of many.

Pensould softened. He embraced her again, but without the bone-crushing force he had used before.

‘Now, my lazy Minchu,’ he murmured. ‘You live, and so do I. All is well after all.’

She took a few deep breaths, enjoying the soothing warmth of Pensould’s embrace. Then the questions poured out.

‘How long have I been sleeping?’ she asked. ‘And what of Mamma? Why isn’t Papa here? Where is this room? And Siggy! Where is he?’

‘You are in the Library,’ he replied. ‘Limbane brought you here. Your father is building machines in Waeverleyne. He has left a voice-box with us, so you may speak with him if you wish, though he is very busy at the moment. Your mother is with your grandfather. I do not know how long you have been sleeping. I lost track of the days while you remained in Waeverleyne; since you have been here, of course, it is impossible to tell. And as for the furred gentleman you call Sigwide, he was taken to the kitchens by Master Limbane.’

That last made Llandry frown. Her grey-furred orting was stubbornly loyal, and though he was fond of food she wouldn’t have expected that he would consent to leave her. Not even if she was unconscious.

‘All right,’ she said cautiously. ‘Is… has Mamma woken?’

Pensould shook his head. ‘Not that I have heard. But I struggle to get your father’s attention at present. Perhaps something has changed.’

This was also poor news. What was keeping Papa so busy? Nothing good, she feared. And Mamma still lay asleep?

‘You’re quite right,’ she told Pensould. ‘It is high time I got up. Help me, please.’ She hung on his arm to steady herself as she climbed out of bed, alarmed by the trembling of her weakened body.

‘How did you wake me?’ she asked as Pensould steadied her on her feet.

‘Do you think it would work on Mamma?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said seriously. ‘What ails your mother may not be the same thing at all. She is not full draykoni as you are; there is more of the human in her. But!’ He held up a hand as she began to speak. ‘I fully concur that this approach must be tried on your noble mother at our earliest opportunity.’

Llandry nodded, satisfied. ‘You’ve been practicing your languages,’ was all she said in reply. ‘You sound almost as cultured as Lady Eva.’

Pensould beamed. ‘I’ve had much conversation with her,’ he said. ‘She has spent a lot of time here, watching over you. Also with Tren, who has been in much the same state as you, albeit conscious.’

Llandry blinked. ‘Tren? Why? What happened to him?’

‘But of course, you won’t have heard.’ Pensould busied himself with wrapping her in a warm dressing gown and finding slippers for her feet as he spoke. Llandry listened with renewed alarm to his tale of Tren and Eva’s errand and its disastrous end.

‘Griel stabbed him?’ she repeated in horror. ‘But he is alive?’

‘Yes, yes,’ Pensould assured her. ‘It was a close thing for a time, I understand, but Master Limbane fixed him. He has been recovering his strength.’

Llandry said nothing. She was still a little afraid of Tren, though she hoped nobody had noticed. He was too near her own age, and possessed too much in the way of good looks and easy confidence for her to be comfortable around him. But the idea that he might have died alarmed her more than she expected. And the fact that he had been wounded in the defence of Lady Eva appealed to the romantic side of her nature.

‘Maybe I could see him, soon,’ she decided. ‘Both of them, of course. But first, I want Sigwide.’

‘You must allow me to carry you for some of the distance,’ Pensould said immediately. ‘I know you wish to go to the kitchens at once, and I have no doubt we will find your disreputable furred friend there, but it is some way from here.’

Llandry noted with satisfaction that he made no attempt to dissuade her from going. ‘If I fall over, you may carry me,’ she said firmly. ‘But not until then.’

Pensould shook his head. ‘Straight from extreme indolence to stubborn over-exertion. A puzzle you are, my Minchu.’

To the relief of Llandry’s pride, she was able to reach the kitchens without being carried. They were obliged to pause a few times as she regained her breath and rested her shaking legs, but at last they arrived. The kitchens were situated on the lowest level of the Library, and they were large enough to cater to far more Lokants than seemed to reside here. A Lokant of the name of Bune presided over them with astonishing efficiency, aided by a small army of mesmerisingly complex and clever machinery. Llandry had spent some time down here before her illness, collecting food for Sigwide and watching the machines — and Bune — at work.

He saw her at once as she entered with Pensould, and his broad face split into a grin.

‘Well, Miss Sanfaer!’ he greeted with more than his usual joviality. ‘Limbane gives me the report whenever he comes down, but I’d not heard you were awake.’

‘Only just,’ she smiled. ‘How do you do, Bune? How kind of you to think of me.’

He was, as always, urgently busy cooking some great culinary masterpiece, but he maintained a conversation just as if he wasn’t tending to the contents of four or five pans and at least two ovens at once. ‘I could hardly forget, what with that terror of yours driving us all to distraction.’ He nodded at the far side of the room, where a cage rested on a wide shelf. Llandry realised with horror that Siggy was inside it.

With a cry of dismay she darted towards him, forgetting her weak legs. She would have fallen had Pensould not been speedily after her, bearing her up again. He helped her to reach the cage.

‘But why is he locked up?’ she asked, casting an anguished look at Bune.

‘Nothing cruel’s been done to him, don’t fear,’ said Bune. ‘It’s the only way we could get him to eat. As long as he was anywhere near you he wouldn’t touch his food. He couldn’t be removed from you either except by some measure of force, and then he had to be restrained down here or he’d be straight up to your room again. Had to keep him here ‘til he was too tired to fight more, then he might eat a bit.’

‘Oh, Sig,’ Llandry whispered. He’d seen her, and she felt his relief and excitement all mixed up with a powerful rush of affection. But he didn’t rush towards her as she expected him to, nor did he make any effort to escape from the cage.

‘Honestly, we were worried he wouldn’t survive,’ Bune added. ‘He’s that weakened now, what with starving himself and worrying over you.’

Previously Llandry would have said that the one thing Sigwide loved most in the world was not, in fact, herself but his food. Apparently she had been wrong. Unlatching the cage, she gently lifted him out and held him close. He was thinner than she’d ever seen him, and weighed far too little.

She looked at Pensould, properly taking in his appearance for the first time. He, too, was thinner; his eyes were shadowed with weariness and his pale face was newly lined with care.

A sigh escaped her. Guilt, that all-too-familiar emotion, swamped her again. Her loved ones loved her more than she realised, but in her fog of a dream she’d focused only on her own wishes.

‘Don’t blame yourself for that, Minchu,’ said Pensould, guessing her thoughts. ‘You were not in a state for rational reflection.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I suppose not.’

Bune appeared at her side, with a bowl of Sigwide’s favourite foods in one hand. ‘Here,’ he said, thrusting it at her. ‘It’s fresh. Perhaps he’ll eat better now.’

She smiled at him gratefully. ‘Thank you for taking care of him, Bune. He’s more important to me than I expect anyone realises.’

He winked at her. ‘I know, miss. You get back to getting well, now. From what I hear, you’ll be needing your strength.’

She nodded, allowing Sigwide to smell the contents of Bune’s bowl. He showed a faint flicker of interest, but hesitated.

Llan? he said, and she smiled.

It’s me.

Staying now?

Planning to.

She felt him relax. Good, he approved. Then, food, he added, with a note of interest. To her relief, he began to nibble.

Llandry petted him, taking care not to interrupt his meal. Her thoughts whirled. How much had she missed? She must catch up, and right away.

‘I must see Mamma,’ she said. ‘Then we must find out what’s keeping Papa so busy. I imagine he’ll have all the news about Waeverleyne.’ Her stomach dropped with fear as she said it, though she kept her voice calm. Last time she had been in Waeverleyne, three draykoni had attacked the city. She had no idea how long she had been asleep; how many might now be menacing Glinnery? The realm would need all her father’s engineering skill to best this foe, and they would be missing her mother’s diplomatic skills and connections.

‘I need to be stronger,’ she said in frustration as her legs threatened to buckle beneath her once more.

‘Peace, Minchu,’ Pensould said gently. ‘Remember that time is slow in Limbane’s Library. Not so much has happened in the outside world as you fear; you may rest until you are strong.’

Llandry shook her head. ‘Not now I’m awake and I know what is happening outside these walls. How can I lie abed any more, Pensould? We must do something.’

He sighed. It occurred to her belatedly that Pensould hadn’t had much rest at all while she lay unconscious; his weary face showed that. Perhaps he wished to recover his strength, too.

‘A little while,’ she conceded. Pensould rewarded her with a smile, and Bune handed her a plate of something that smelled delicious.

‘Back to your room now, miss,’ he instructed. ‘Then have a bite of food. You’ll be amazed how much stronger you’ll feel just for eating something solid.’ He glanced narrowly at Pensould. ‘The same goes for you, too.’

‘Eating,’ Pensould agreed, his eyes brightening. ‘We shall be sure to do some of that, Mr Bune.’