Draykon (17 page)

She dived,
grabbing Sigwide and rolling out of reach. She screamed in pain as
her injured arm hit the ground, but she didn't pause; she was up in
seconds, darting away, clutching her brave but foolish orting to
her chest.

Devary appeared
in the doorway, wielding a pair of wicked-looking daggers. Gaping
in astonishment at this incongruous sight, Llandry almost lost her
healthy arm to a snap of the beast's jaws. She rolled again,
narrowly evading its strike. Her senses were suddenly crowded with
information: she felt the beast's confusion and fear, its
desperation at finding itself stranded suddenly in wholly
unfamiliar territory. It had emerged through a gate, a direct
escapee from the Uppers, but it wasn't here by its own
desire.

Devary charged
the beast, daggers ready to hack into its beautiful leaf-green
hide.

'Don't kill it!'
She released Sigwide and bounded to her feet, mentally reaching out
to the creature. Its mind was little different from Sigwide's, its
aggression a product of its fear and disorientation. Clumsily she
thrust herself into its thoughts, trying to replace its notions of
danger with sensations of safety.

The technique
might work with Sigwide, but this beast shrugged off her
interference. Recognising Devary as the greater threat, it turned
on him and leaped.

'Wait, please,'
Llandry gasped. Devary dropped his daggers and wrestled with the
thing, holding its jaws away from his face by sheer strength of
muscle.

'You might...
hurry, with whatever you are doing,' he panted.

Cajoling wasn't
working: the beast was too enraged. Collecting herself, Llandry
matched aggression with aggression and bore down with a fierce
will, forcing it to obey. To her immense relief, it gradually
ceased its attempts to swallow Devary's face and slowed. She felt
the shift in its mind, from viewing her as a threat to seeing her
as its master.

Tentatively,
Devary loosened his grip, his muscles still tense and ready to
fight. When the animal didn't react he surged to his feet,
collecting one of his daggers as a precaution.

'Can you open a
gate?' Llandry's words were strained; the unaccustomed effort of
holding the beast to her will was tiring her fast.

'Yes, it will
take... a moment.'

'Faster would be
better.'

'Cannot be
helped,' he murmured. While he worked, Llandry turned her thoughts
back to her temporary captive. She had no wish to exacerbate its
terror, so she adjusted her ideas, trying to meld the force of her
command with the security she'd tried to give it before. Her
untrained attempts were clumsy, and she came close to losing her
grip on it altogether.

The gate
appeared, a ripple in the air. It grew steadily more solid, until
Llandry could see the little slice of the Uppers to which it was
connected. Distracting, that vision: vivid colour and golden
sunlight, and a hint of a rich aroma that teased at her
senses.

'Llandry?' Devary
prompted.

'I... yes.'
Llandry refocused, shoving the beast towards the gate. In her
anxiety she had probably overdone the command: the poor creature
shot forward and straight into the gate. Devary grimaced and the
gate faded gradually, too slowly for Llandry's frayed mind. At last
it disappeared and the balcony grew still and quiet once
more.

'Quite good,'
Devary said at last. His hair had come down out of its ponytail,
but other than that he looked remarkably unperturbed. Llandry was
too muddled and disturbed to answer. Feeling the warning buzzing in
her limbs and tightness in her chest, she bolted from the room
before she could humiliate herself by suffering a bout of panic in
front of her mother's friend.

Chapter Twelve

When Eva arrived
at Vale's office, she found Tren waiting.

'Mr. Warvel,' she
said coolly, wondering what he was doing there.

'Lady Glostrum.'
He looked up, smiling. 'What brings you here?'

'I was going to
ask you the same. Surely you aren't...?'

'Aren't
what?'

'Did Lord
Angstrun send you? For Vale's job?'

'No,' he said
slowly. 'I come here every moonrise to admire the view.' He looked
at the cluttered office, covered with Vale's maps and
papers.

'Oh,' she said,
feeling suddenly very weary. She sat down in Vale's chair,
surveying Tren as he stood near the doorway. Youthful: that was the
primary impression she gathered of him. Young, and with an air of
optimism that suggested a lack of experience. 'You'd better be here
because you're his best.'

'I am,' he said.
'Thank you.'

She lifted her
brows. 'At... what was it? Twenty-three?'

'Twenty-five. How
old were you when they made you High Summoner?'

'Older than
that.'

'Not by very
much.'

Eva sat back,
huddling into her coat. 'If you read the papers, you'll know that I
was the beneficiary of some revolting elitism and probably a dash
of nepotism as well. What's your excuse?'

Tren laughed. 'Or
you were the best candidate for the job. It depends on the point of
view.'

'Oh?' She
surveyed him, trying to read his expression. 'To which
interpretation do you subscribe?'

'I haven't
decided yet.'

The door opened,
revealing Chief Investigator Vale with an armful of papers. He
looked startled to find his office occupied.

'Am I late, or
are you two peculiarly eager?'

Tren checked his
watch. 'The latter, it appears.'

Vale looked at
Tren. 'No sign of Fin, I suppose?'

'Not
yet.'

Vale dropped his
papers on the desk. The stack landed with a thud that shook the
furniture. Eva lifted an ironic brow at him.

'I need three
secretaries to keep on top of all of this,' Vale grinned. He picked
up Eva's hand, his smile fading. 'There's talk of more activity
from the Lowers. More gates, more beasts. I suppose it's no use
asking you to reconsider?'

'None
whatsoever.

He sighed. 'I
didn't think so.'

'We won't be gone
long, Eyde, and I don't anticipate encountering anything that Tren
and I will not be able to deal with.'

He eyed her
sceptically. 'You don't, hm?'

She smiled
encouragingly, trying to impart some of her own sense of confidence
to him. He grunted and looked away.

'Here,' he said,
handing her a freshly-printed daily newspaper. The headline read:
Missing sorcerer suspected of Night Cloak crime
. A picture
of Edwae Geslin was printed below: a young man with dishevelled
hair, rather plain features and a hesitant smile. The overall
impression Eva received was one of mildness, even blandness. She
frowned.

'He doesn't look
like the type.'

'He isn't.' Tren
took the paper from her, reading it with a gathering
frown.

'Do you know
him?' said Eva.

'We're close
friends,' said Tren, tossing the paper aside in disgust. 'I can't
think of any reason why Ed would do such a thing.'

Vale spoke up.
'Did he tell you he was leaving?'

'No.'

'Has he said, or
done, anything recently that struck you as out of
character?'

Tren thought. 'He
seemed anxious lately, but he's often worried about money. I didn't
think it out of the ordinary.'

'Why does he
worry about money?'

'His mother's a
widow and he has younger siblings. He sends most of his earnings to
her.'

'Good,' murmured
Vale. 'Where does the mother live?'

'Orstwych.'

'Clear motive,'
said a new voice. Eva glanced up, startled. The door had opened so
quietly she hadn't noticed. Another man stood behind Vale, dressed
for travelling. He surveyed the office expressionlessly, then
softly shut the door.

'Ah, Fin,' said
Vale. 'Sit down.' The man took the seat nearest to the exit,
without looking at anyone.

'This is Finshay
Arrerly,' said Vale. 'My agent in this business. Fin, you already
know Tren. The lady is Evastany Glostrum, High
Summoner.'

Finshay turned
cold grey eyes on her. She returned his stare coolly, assessing him
rapidly. She detected more than a hint of arrogance in his
manner.

'You're sending
your fiancee with us.' Finshay's voice was chill and
quiet.

'She's the best
person for this job,' said Vale. Eva raised her brows, surprised at
his change of attitude. He'd been trying to talk her out of it ever
since she suggested it.

'Oh?' said
Finshay. 'A noble and a bureaucrat?'

'She's a fine
working summoner,' said Vale, a hint of steel creeping into his
tone. 'She's one of the strongest in Glour, and besides she's in
possession of some useful tools for this task.'

'Such
as?'

'A shortig hound,
and a gwaystrel.'

That seemed to
silence Finshay, at least for a brief time. He cast another glance
at her, only slightly less contemptuous than before, and
subsided.

'Sir,' said Tren,
tentatively.

'Don't tell me
you're going to object too, Tren.'

Tren shifted
uncomfortably. 'Not exactly, sir, but I'd prefer to be excused from
this mission.'

'Your reasons
being what.'

'Ed's a close
friend, sir. I don't feel right about tracking him down like
this.'

'I'm sorry, but
that's exactly why I need you to be involved. You know him better
than anyone else; that knowledge may prove invaluable.' Tren opened
his mouth to object but Vale cut him off. 'You know it will go much
easier for Geslin if he's brought in for civilised
questioning.'

Instead of what?
Eva wondered uneasily. She pictured again that mild young face and
shivered slightly.

Tren bowed his
head, but made no further objections.

'Gentlemen,' said
Vale in a steely tone. 'I can do without this quibbling. You're all
involved for good reasons and the matter is non-negotiable. Work
together and you'll find Geslin quickly. I suggest you make your
peace with the job and get it done.'

'Of course, sir,'
said Tren. Finshay nodded coldly. Eva just watched.

Vale exhaled
slowly. 'Good. Fin, what were you saying about motive.'

Finshay shrugged
indifferently. 'Most people will do just about anything if they're
stuck for cash.' Tren looked as if he wanted to argue, but he
glanced at Vale and thought better of it.

Vale nodded.
'It's a fair point. You should talk with the mother, see if she
knows anything. Maybe you'll find Geslin there.'

'Doubt he'd be
stupid enough to hide somewhere so obvious,' said Fin.

'Maybe, maybe
not. Check it out anyway. Any other leads?'

'None,' said Fin.
'He's a bloody Master Sorcerer, isn't he? He'll be stealthed up to
the eyeballs.'

'Then it's lucky
you have the services of a summoner with a tracker dog and a
gwaystrel,' said Vale pointedly. Fin rolled his eyes.

'Tren. Any
thoughts on where your friend Geslin would go?'

Tren looked
troubled. He opened his mouth and closed it again, then shook his
head.

Vale looked hard
at him. 'Think on it well, Tren,' he said easily, but with a cold
glint in his blue eyes. 'I've no doubt you'll think of
something.'

Tren nodded. He
looked miserable, and Eva felt a pang of sympathy for
him.

'Lady Glostrum,'
said Vale, turning to her. 'Am I right in thinking that the shortig
will follow the man's scent, even if he tries to disguise
it?'

'As far as we
know, yes,' she replied. 'The shortigs seem to be immune to the
known methods of disguise there. Either that or they're clever
enough to see past them.'

'Good,' said
Vale. 'And the gwaystrel will see through any disguise he adopts.
Between the two, you've a fair chance of catching him.'

'The gwaystrel's
that good?' Finshay's question dripped scepticism.

Eva turned a cold
stare on him. 'Gwaystrels aren't fooled by sorcerer stealth tricks
because they don't use their eyes. They're all but blind, in fact.
They recognise people by sound, smell, patterns of movement - all
the things that are harder, maybe impossible, to conceal or change.
Geslin can cloak himself any way he likes, but Rikbeek will be
looking for the things he can't easily manipulate.'

'How will he know
what to look for?'

'I was hoping
Tren could help with that.'

Vale looked
inquiringly at the sorcerer. Tren slouched a little further into
his chair, but he nodded.

'I can build a
walking image of Ed as I remember him. It'll move, sound, probably
even smell like him. I can only keep it up for a couple of minutes,
but hopefully that'll be enough.'