Lokant

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

‘Who would you recommend as your successor?’

Guardian Islvy Troste regarded Eva with some sadness as she posed the question. Eva’s eleven years as High Summoner had just come to an end; Islvy had been at the head of Glour’s government for seven of those years, and the two women had often worked together. They had never been close friends, but they had been able to rely on each other.

‘Roys Alin,’ Eva replied. She hadn’t had to think hard for an answer to that question. Roys was no aristocrat, and that must speak against her when it came to government appointments. But she was a summoner whose natural strength almost equalled Eva’s own, and had long been Eva’s second in command. She was a rational, dedicated woman; she would do well in the role of chief of the realm’s summoner practitioners.

The Guardian nodded. ‘That’s as I expected. I agree with you entirely, and I’ll make sure there are no objections from the rest of the Council. Would you prefer to postpone your departure, or is your resignation effective immediately?’

‘Immediate,’ Eva replied without hesitation. It cost her something to say it, but she ensured that no trace of doubt appeared in her manner. ‘There is much to be done regarding the draykon problem, and I have already lost a great deal of time.’

The Guardian frowned slightly. ‘That issue has already been passed to the university. Some of their finest scholars are at work on it. Not that I doubt your ability to contribute to the research, but is it indeed so vital that you participate immediately? I don’t wish to lose our best High Summoner in a generation unnecessarily.’

Eva permitted herself a small smile. ‘They are at work, yes, but you must admit that many of them barely believe me. They think that I spoke of some other large, winged species, perhaps, or that some variety of shock damaged my ability to clearly interpret the events happening around me. I have even heard it said that I was under the influence of some one or other of the hallucinogenic substances that can be harvested in the Lowers. I was, after all, in the company of a youth of twenty–five and everyone knows that all young people are fond of recreational drugs. Few are giving the matter any real attention.’

Islvy smiled rather grimly. ‘Is that so? Then they will be addressed on the matter.’

Eva shook her head. ‘They cannot be forced to take me seriously, not without any real evidence other than my testimony, and Mr. Warvel’s. Even if they could, there is only so far I can help them by describing what I saw. My eyewitness experience is of paramount importance in understanding recent events. At present there are only two of us who can claim that experience.’

‘Mr. Warvel has been excused from his duties as Angstrun’s aide, I understand?’

‘Yes, he is currently working full time on research. It is my intent to join him at once. I do not believe this spell of quiet will last indefinitely; we will see something of these draykons before long, and it would be well to understand the possible consequences of that.’

Eva didn’t add her private fears. Llandry’s fate had been remarkable, but was it safe to assume that it was isolated only to her? Could there be others across the Seven who might likewise possess the latent potential to metamorphose? If so, it could be extremely important to identify them before they transformed for the first time. And Eva feared that those transformations may be triggered by proximity to a fellow draykon, as Llandry’s appeared to have been. She needed to answer these questions, fast, before Llandry found her way home.

‘Very well,’ sighed the Guardian. ‘You are already a Fellow of the university, yes?’

‘I am. I have never before exploited the privileges of that post, but I will now.’

Islvy nodded. ‘I sincerely regret your departure, but I wish you success with your new endeavours.’

Eva rose, recognising that as a dismissal. ‘Thank you, Guardian Troste.’

The Guardian dropped her formality for a moment, and smiled with real warmth. ‘Take care, Eva.’

Eva smiled back. ‘And you, Islvy.’

Eva left the Guardian’s office with a heavy heart. No matter the strength of her motives, it was hard to relinquish a role she had occupied for so long, and which had been the centre of her life for more than a decade. It would be strange to be excluded from the processes of government in the future, no longer summoned to meetings, her contributions and advice no longer sought. But she was beginning a new phase of her life, and the questions at hand were more than enough to excite and inspire her.

And Tren would be waiting for her at home. He had arrived early in the morning, as usual, and when she had left the house he was already deep into his study of Winnier’s memoirs. Thinking of this, she quickened her pace.

She arrived home to find an empty box in the hallway of her house. The box was of the sort her tailor, Baynson, packed garments in when they were to be sent to the gentry. Strewn around it were wisps of scented paper.

Eva gave her coat to a servant, then followed the trail of discarded packaging into the study. Tren sat at her desk with several books and notebooks open around him. He was wearing at least three shirts, and several more were being used to pad the spines of the books he was studying.

‘That’s not what I had in mind when I ordered Baynson’s finest,’ she observed.

Tren looked up with a grin. ‘No? Then what did you have in mind? You owed me two shirts as I recall, but no less than twelve came out of the box.’

‘I was just making sure.’

‘Making sure of what? Are you planning to ruin several more of my personal garments?’

Eva grinned. ‘It does seem to happen when I’m around.’ Tren had ripped up one of his own shirts to bind a hand wound for her, when they had been en route through Orstwych some weeks ago. Later, another shirt had been irrevocably damaged when they both took an unplanned dip in ice–cold salt water. She had promised to replace them, and so she had. She’d even provided an upgrade to the quality. A considerable one.

‘This silk is remarkably comfortable to wear, though a little thin,’ Tren continued. ‘Maybe that’s what you had in mind: layers.’

The multiple shirts he wore were in clashing colours. He had a dark red shirt over a leaf–green one, over a beautiful purple colour. Eva chuckled.

‘Baynson would have heart failure if he saw you like that. By the way, there are cushions for the books’ spines.’

‘I know, but if I am to enjoy the luxury of pure silk shirts, why should I deny it to the books? Lulled into a sense of pampered security, they will give up their secrets the more easily.’

‘Ah. And how is that working out?’

‘Quite well. For example.’ Tren leaned forward in his chair and leafed through the book that rested before him. Eva recognised the aged, dark leather of Andraly Winnier’s book. ‘We – or at least, I – assumed that this book, looking as it does rather terrifically ancient, is the work of a long–dead author. However, there are some entries describing recent events in the Lowers and – this is the good part – they’re obviously written in the same handwriting as the oldest entries.’ He paged carefully through the book, demonstrating his point, and Eva leaned over the desk to see. She had to agree: the newer script was written in different ink, but the letters were formed in the same manner.

‘You’re certain the events described are recent? Maybe this isn’t the first time that the Lowers have suffered this kind of disruption.’

‘Interesting that you asked that. I am certain that these entries are very recent, yes, but there are earlier entries describing the same kinds of things. And these recent chapters refer to that. Here: The re–emergence of the draykon race has upset the balance of Ayrien, causing serious upheaval of a type previously observed and recorded during the Eterna Conflict.’ “Ayrien” seems to refer to the Lowers, but I’ve yet to find any more references to an Eterna Conflict.’

‘Ayrien,’ Eva repeated. ‘I’ve never heard that term before, have you?’

‘Nope. I’m going back to the City Library tomorrow to look for them both. That’s not all, though. Look at this.’ Tren turned to approximately the middle of the large tome, revealing the roughly–torn stubs of several missing pages. ‘There are a few more torn out throughout the book. No indication as to what they discussed.’

‘I wonder if Griel removed them,’ Eva mused. ‘Though I can’t imagine why he might have. It’s a pity we didn’t get longer to explore the tower; maybe we could have found the missing pages.’

‘And who knows what else,’ Tren agreed. ‘What’s making me very curious, though, is the identity of the author. Who is Andraly Winnier? This person appears to have been writing for an impossibly long time.’

‘That’s not confirmed,’ Eva replied. ‘Handwriting can be imitated.’

‘True. But why bother?’

Eva shrugged. ‘If it’s conceivably possible, then it should be considered and investigated.’

Tren grinned up at her. ‘You’re a curious mixture. In some respects you’re a complete rebel, and in others you’re a surprisingly conservative woman. Even, dare I say, pedantic.’

‘But imagine how dull life would be if everyone was completely predictable. Please, Tren, for the sake of my sanity, take off the extra shirts.’

Tren laughed. ‘That’s really bothering you, is it?’

‘Yes. It’s hurting my eyes. I can’t consent to stand anywhere near you while you’re like that.’

‘That is a grave threat,’ Tren replied seriously. He disappeared for a moment under a succession of silk shirts as several clashing colours came off. Eva collected the discarded shirts and folded them up, arranging them into perfectly colour–coordinated pairs. At length Tren was down to only one shirt, a perfectly inoffensive blue one.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Now you may proceed.’

‘That’s everything I had to report.’ Tren pulled in his chair and focused on the book again. ‘I’ll let you know if I find anything else interesting.’

‘I’ll send Beane in with some refreshment,’ she offered.

He shook his head without looking up. ‘Thanks, but I don’t want to risk getting the books dirty.’

‘Very well; then I shall call you for lunch.’

She wanted him to look up and smile again, but he kept his eyes fixed on his book. ‘Thank you.’

She nodded, though he didn’t see the gesture, and departed.

Later that day, Eva sat in her carriage on the way to the city’s sorcery school. The weather was finally warming a little; for once she had no need to bundle herself into her furs, and she went without the stone bottle filled with hot water that usually warmed her feet while she travelled. Outside, the moon was high in the sky and nearly full, casting a strong silver glow across the city of Glour.

She was on her way to see Lord Angstrun, who held the post of the realm’s High Sorcerer. His duties within that role were similar to her own, now former duties as High Summoner. He was responsible for maintaining the enchantments that kept the Night Cloak in force across the realm, keeping out the strong sunlight that would cause severe and irreparable damage to the important Lowers–native plants and animals on which Glour society relied. He had a number of assistants in that task, of which Tren had been one until recently. Angstrun was also responsible for overseeing the training of the relatively few citizens of Glour who possessed sorcerous talent. Eva knew from his secretary that he was at the school today, giving a lecture. She was timing her arrival to coincide with the end of his teaching duties.

Her carriage pulled up outside the large, old building that housed the academy, and she was swiftly conducted inside. Angstrun was in his office, still wearing his professor’s robes and his customary thunderous expression. He had an imposing demeanour and was obviously afflicted with a flammable temper, but there had been times in years past that Eva had seen him considerably softened. Unlike many, she had no fear of him.

‘Darae. I hope I’m not interrupting.’

Angstrun fixed her with a keen stare. ‘I had a feeling I would be seeing you.’

Eva gave him a cool smile. ‘You’re the expert in these parts. I need your opinion on the matter of dual abilities, such as I discussed before the Council not long ago. Do you recall?’

She expected him to dismiss the idea with his customary bad language, but instead his expression turned thoughtful. ‘I’ve never seen or heard of a person who could manage both sorcery and summoning with any success. I could dredge up some dusty reports of curious happenings in childhood – kids who show some small ability in both directions for a time – but those children always seem to lose the duality as they grow older. By the age of five, in general. After that they develop adult abilities in only one of those two areas.’

‘You’re very knowledgeable.’

‘Your report to the Council was intriguing. I did some research.’

Eva nodded. When she had reported her recent experiences to her colleagues in the government, she had highlighted the fact that the two people responsible for the recent chaos, a pair of Ullarn citizens named Ana and Griel, apparently demonstrated strong skill in both schools of magic. That was previously unheard of: it was common knowledge that magically talented individuals were unable to access both skills. It was so widely accepted, in fact, that Eva had encountered a great deal of scepticism. She was grateful to find that Angstrun at least was willing to take her seriously.

‘Has anyone ever conducted a study into this phenomenon? I know that magical training has qualifying children divided into the two groups by the age of eight, and after that they are trained in their given ability. Has anyone ever tried to train a child in both?’

‘I found one such study, but it was later discredited. The researchers were accused of manipulating the results. The effect on their careers was highly damaging, and it seems no one has been brave enough to repeat the research.’

Eva shook her head. ‘I can’t help thinking it strange, than a society so fond of scientific enquiry could have completely failed to pursue this.’

Angstrun shrugged. ‘There are many other questions worth pursuing, most of them less potentially damaging to a scholar’s credibility. You do realise that addressing this question much further may get you labelled a crank.’

‘If so, so be it. There’s also the small matter of Ana’s disappearing trick. I can’t currently imagine how that’s possible within either magical tradition, but one mystery at a time.’

He snorted. ‘Let me guess. You want me to teach summoning to my sorcery students.’ He leaned back in his chair and lifted his heavy black brows at her.

‘Yes. And vice versa. I’ve already cleared it with Roys.’

‘Ah yes. Congratulations on your retirement, by the way. Though apparently you aren’t planning to spend the next few years living the good life.’

‘Quite. I retired because I have more pressing things to do. I take it that the lack of instant objections means you agree to my proposal?’

‘It doesn’t, but who could possibly refuse you anything?’

Eva thought immediately of Finshay, one of Lord Vale’s agents. She had worked with him for a time during the search for Edwae Geslin, and he had made it clear he resented every moment. ‘Some certainly could, but I’m delighted to find you aren’t one of them.’ She rewarded his compliance with a smile, and rose to leave. ‘Thank you, Darae. I’d like to be involved with the teaching, if I may.’

‘You may. Uh – one moment. Don’t leave yet.’ He stood up and shrugged off his black professor’s robe, clearing his throat. ‘When’s the wedding?’ he inquired, turning to face her.

‘We haven’t set a date yet.’

‘Ah.’ He paused. ‘Does your engagement mean you’re no longer available to… ?’

He tailed off, but she understood his meaning. He had been her lover for a time, about ten years ago, and they had occasionally renewed that relationship when it suited them both.

‘It doesn’t,’ she replied. ‘I warned Vale that complete monogamy was probably beyond me, and he didn’t object.’

Angstrun laughed. ‘How like you. Well then, how about dinner? Say tomorrow night?’

Eva paused to consider. Despite what she’d said, she hadn’t had any lover besides Vale since her engagement. But Vale had been gone for a week and was due to be absent for at least a week more.

She was about to consent when Tren’s face appeared in her mind and she experienced some momentary doubt. For the last few days he had remained at her home until late in the evening, working relentlessly on the books she had given him. She frequently joined him during those hours, working alongside with another book set close to his. There was a companionableness to the arrangement which she enjoyed.

But why should she hesitate? She could forgo Tren’s company for one evening. There would be more such nights.

‘Dinner would be perfect,’ she said. Angstrun nodded, a rare smile smoothing all the severity from his face. He kissed her hand and bowed her out, and she walked slowly back to her carriage alone.