Llandry

16 VII-1

16 VII

I Go On a Diplomatic Mission. No, Really.

Oh, and an Arrival!

The mood in Nuwelin was sombre, once we had shared this news.

We gathered late that day in the centre of our little settlement. There is a patch of grass there which we have left as open space, for use when we need to meet or like to socialise, as the others sometimes do. There are wooden benches set in a circle, and space for a comforting fire in the middle. We lit the fire. Meriall sat with Nyden, who crouched, brooding, behind the benches. Pense and I eschewed the benches entirely and lay down beside the fire, tucked up in a large blanket Loret had made. The closeness was comforting and he calmed, though his unease did not dissipate. I could feel it rippling beneath his surface composure, spiking sometimes as some dark thought or other occurred to torment him.

For my part, I was by no means tranquil. I appreciated the warmth of Pense’s embrace, and the blanket that largely hid me from the scrutiny of the people around me.

We ate, and we talked.

‘We must go to Eterna’s folk,’ said Loret firmly. ‘They must be informed, whether they know anything about it or not. This could happen again, and they have to know.’

Larion added his typically laconic support to this. The two men have become friends in recent days, despite their very different backgrounds — Loret is a prosperous, winged Glinnish man of almost sixty years, and compared to Larion’s relative youth and much more straitened upbringing in Irbel, there seems little to particularly recommend the two to one another. But they have grown close, and their opinions often coincide.

‘Then send a letter,’ said Sophronia, and added darkly, ‘Nowt good can come of havin’ aught else to do with that lot.’ Like me, Sophronia was from Waeverleyne, the capital city of Glinnery. I knew she had been present during the conflict. Her resentment towards those who had tried to lay waste to our home was understandable, but I wished — I wish — that it was not so easy to hold on to such feelings. Eterna acted as she did precisely because she could not get over hers.

The debate circled and circled, and went nowhere. Our little group was hopelessly divided and incapable of reaching a majority decision, which disappointed me. I confess, I had been hoping that the first major problem faced by the fledgling community of Nuwelin might be resolved by general agreement, rather than anybody’s having to make difficult decisions which would be unpopular with half of our number.

Or rather, if I must be specific: I was hoping that I wouldn’t have to do that.

No such luck.

You will have to intervene, Minchu, Pense told me silently.

I sighed, fighting an almost overwhelming urge to simply go to sleep. I felt weary beyond belief. Why must it be me? I demanded. It was petulant, I knew, but I couldn’t help it. The product of tiredness and anxiety and fear. I am never at my best under those conditions.

I did not expect a response from Pense, or rather I expected (and hoped for) comfort alone. He has long since come to understand my need for it, and its efficacy upon me; sometimes, all I need is a moment’s warmth and understanding from him, and I can muster myself to almost any action.

This time, he took the less common step of attempting to argue me into it.

I do not think you realise how you appear to our friends, he said. Or to me. In your own mind — and I know this, Minchu, because I have spent a lot of time there, so do not try to contradict me — in your own mind, you are a scrap of a thing, smaller by far than everybody around you. They loom and tower over your estimation of your own worth, and as such, you are cowed.

But to others, you are quite different.

You are quiet, but they do not see this as shyness. They see you as a person who considers her words carefully, and speaks only when she has something useful to share.

You are slow to impose your authority, but they do not see this as reluctance or lack of interest. They see you as a careful, considerate leader who exercises her authority with respect for them all, and will never abuse it.

They do not see or sense your fear, for you are adept at concealing it from all but me. They defer to you because you were the first to Change in modern times, yes, and because you are Lady Draykon. But also because you are the brave defender of Waeverleyne. Your exploits in that conflict are legendary, did you know that? They respect you for that, and for your welcome of them since their arrival in Iskyr. You are a woman of wit, wisdom and bravery, and in their minds, you tower over them.

Fortunately, Pense seemed to be aware that I couldn’t possibly be expected to find an immediate response to all of that. He nuzzled my hair and gave me time to think it over.

Which I did. In fact, I am still thinking it over. My instinct is to treat it with disbelief, and pass it off as Pense’s own bias operating in my favour. But I cannot. To do so would be to insult his judgement, which he does not deserve, and besides… I cannot help hoping, secretly, that it is true.

It has never before occurred to me to imagine how other people see me, or even to imagine that their view of me might be different from my own. It is an intriguing exercise. I do not know how far Pense is correct, but… I was touched beyond words by his faith in me. I feel a glow of happiness even now, just thinking about it.

That’s what I mean about Pensould. He never blames me for my failings, and he has a way of reminding me that I am not all absurdity.

Which is not to say that this speech performed miracles. I wish I could say that I gathered my resolve, strode forth and proceeded to be decisive, forthright and generally amazing. I wish I could say that I resolved the argument on the spot, with all the wit and wisdom that Pense is ready to attribute to me, and that this heralded an era of perfect peace and harmony at Nuwelin.

None of that happened, of course. But I did concede to think that I must, indeed, intervene, and I probably would not be resented for doing so.

My own opinion coincided, generally, with Loret and Larion’s, though I was no more eager to find myself in Eterna’s company again than Sophronia. My heart still breaks when I remember the way those draykoni tore into my home, and the relish with which they destroyed the lives of too many of my people. It is hard to forgive, and I have yet to fully do so.

But I know that to nurse those resentments will only lead to more such wars in the future, and it is imperative that we avoid any further such clashes. It is my duty to do everything I can to ensure peace: between the draykoni and the humans of these worlds, yes, and also between the disparate groups of draykoni that are taking up residence across Iskyr and Ayrien.

A tall order.

And now we face a shared threat. Someone has killed a draykon, and could do so again. The others must be informed. Furthermore, I still hoped that Eterna, or one of her people, may have some light to shed on the force behind the unknown draykon’s strange demise.

Reluctantly, I disengaged myself from the blanket and Pense’s embrace and got to my feet. Everybody quieted as I did so, which unnerved me further, for I keenly felt the weight of their expectant gaze.

I took a deep breath. ‘They must be told,’ I said, quietly but firmly. ‘It is our responsibility to share news of this event. If they had discovered the grave, we would expect them to warn us.’

Ivi was having none of that. ‘All very true, but we were at war with these folk not long ago. They could attack our messenger on sight.’

Which was a possibility, but unlikely. ‘They are obviously aware of us. Nyden’s presence proves that. But they have made no effort to attack any of us thus far, and I think it unlikely that they will do so now.’

I waited, but to my relief, nobody wanted to argue with me on this point.

Before I could speak again, or decide on what else to say, Meriall finally weighed in. She was in her human form, like the rest of us (except for Nyden, who is too supremely comfortable in his own skin to bother with changing his shape). She waved a hand in the air. ‘I will go,’ she offered.

‘Are you sure?’

She grinned at me, swift and mischievous. ‘I am not afraid of the scary lady.’

‘You should be,’ Sophronia muttered.

Meriall ignored this with enviable grace. ‘Anybody coming with me?’

Larion raised his hand, as did Loret. Then, to my amazement, more hands went up. It ended with everybody except Sophronia and Nyden volunteering to go.

Meriall smiled sunnily upon them all, and bowed with a flourish. ‘You are too kind! But I think we shouldn’t all go.’ She looked at me for confirmation, and I could only agree. ‘Nyden, if you would be a dear and bear me company, that will do nicely.’

Nyden fluffed his wings. All the willing volunteers you have and you pick on me? What did I do to deserve that?!

‘I can’t help that you are the most fearsome of us,’ said Meriall coaxingly, with a sweet smile. ‘Also the largest, with the shiniest claws—’

‘And the only person who knows where Eterna’s hiding,’ I put in.

Nyden shot me a filthy look. I left for a reason. I don’t want to see them again!

‘Pleeeaase?’ said Meriall, and fluttered her eyelashes.

Nyden sucked upon one fang, grumbling. You forgot handsomest.

‘Fine,’ said Meriall with a roll of her eyes. ‘There is no one half so handsome as you, Ny, and since I cannot bear to go an entire day without your glorious visage to feast mine eyes upon, I beg you will accompany me.’

The smile she received in response was smug, and regrettably toothy. So, so easy.

Meriall smacked him for that, which of course he deserved.

I sighed inwardly, for I knew that I could not shrink from this. ‘I will also go.’

‘And I,’ agreed Pensould.

Meriall nodded. ‘Four is a good, stout number.’

‘A respectable delegation, but not enough to appear as a threat,’ I agreed. ‘We will leave first thing in the morning.’

With which pronouncement, I gracefully withdrew. Or rather, I fled, and hoped that nobody realised that’s what I was doing. Considering the ironic twist to Meriall’s smile as I departed, though, I don’t think I fooled her.

We were all four suitably draykon-shaped and on the wing very early on the day of our quest to find Eterna. We followed Nyden, whose idea of explaining our travel plan consisted of: “We bear south, and keep going.” So we turned south, and we flew.

Draykoni are strong, powerful creatures, but on the whole we are better suited to short, fast bursts of flight than long journeys. We aren’t able to glide very easily, the way some birds do, and it costs us a great deal of energy to maintain the motion of our wings that keeps us aloft. Iskyr, though, is enormous, and Eterna has stationed her colony a long way from ours. (Actually, it is more likely that we instinctively placed ourselves far from everybody else. I doubt Eterna cares very much where we are). We stopped every hour or so for a rest, which made for a slow journey indeed.

But I didn’t mind. I may struggle in groups of people, but I can manage better with only one or two strangers around me. Meriall and Nyden are both easy-going, and Meri is talkative enough to cover any awkward silences I (inevitably) leave. When we stopped, we talked and dozed together. The first such interludes were a little uneasy, but we swiftly grew more comfortable with each other and I actually began to enjoy the interaction.