Draykon (30 page)

'No drowning,'
she chided.

'Is it time to go
home yet?' he said at last, shivering.

'Nonsense; we've
hardly seen the sights.'

Tren gazed at the
miles of water that surrounded them. 'All right, I've seen them.
Now let's go home.'

Eva spotted a
length of broken tree branch sailing by, and grabbed it. It was
completely sodden with water, as if it had been submerged for days,
but at least it floated.

'That's not going
to be big enough,' she murmured. 'Hold this.' She thrust the bag at
Tren. '
Don't
let it get wet.' Her hands free, she pulled and
tugged at the length of wood until it expanded, widening. She
climbed onto it, dragging the shortig with her, and lay down,
exhausted.

'Pass me the
bag,' she said. It landed beside her and she clutched it
protectively as Tren climbed laboriously onto her makeshift raft
beside her.

'I like that
trick you have there,' he said. 'Why don't you show me how to do
that?'

'It's not me
doing it. It's just the way it works down here. Everything's
more... fluid, I suppose. Malleable.'

'Think between
the two of us we could mould this ocean into a beach?'

She laughed.
'Sadly there are limits to everything.'

Tren devoted
himself to the task of shivering, and didn't reply.

'Should only be a
couple of hours before the next change, if I remember rightly,' she
said, wrapping her arms around herself. 'Then again, the meadow
revolved away faster than it should have. It might only be an hour
before the next change.'

'Only an hour,'
Tren repeated. 'Great.'

Numinar
Wrobsley's words echoed in Eva's thoughts all of a sudden. He'd
said that his suppliers of rylur weren't picking any up, something
about increased dangers. Instability. Perhaps this was what was
meant: the cycles were whirling so fast that there was scarcely
time to collect anything before one found oneself, say, drowning in
a vast ocean of freezing water.

'You're making
the raft shake,' said Tren. Eva realised she was shivering so
violently her whole body shook in spasms. She hadn't felt so
completely bone-cold in her life; it made the settled chill of the
Summoners' Halls seem like summer.

'Speak for
yourself,' she muttered. Turning onto her side, she wrapped her
arms around herself, trying uselessly to conserve her body heat.
'You're the sorc. Can't you light a fire?'

'Light a fire
without fuel, while floating on a sodden raft in the middle of the
ocean. It'll burn for about three seconds.'

She sighed
deeply. 'I suppose so.' She paused for a moment as a particularly
strong shiver wracked her. 'I wonder if it's more pleasant to
freeze to death than to drown?'

'You are a bundle
of joy.' He inched across the raft until he lay directly behind
her, his arms sliding around her waist. She found herself pulled
close to him. Cold as he was, he still radiated some
heat.

'Sorry about
this,' he said. 'Desperate measures.'

'Don't get any
ideas.'

'I don't wish to
ruin your dreams, but a violently shivering woman stinking of
seaweed isn't my idea of the perfect romance.'

She snorted.
'You're certainly no flatterer.'

'An hour, you
said?'

'About that,
yes.' She paused. 'Probably.'

'Probably.' He
sighed. 'I wonder if Vale knows we're down here.'

'No. It's too
soon,' she replied. 'What made you think of that?'

'Oh, just
wondering if Fin made it back to Westrarc yet.'

'Thinking of Mrs.
Geslin?'

'Among other
things.'

She was silent
for a moment, picturing the worn face of Edwae's mother, drawn with
anxiety, surrounded by dependent children. She imagined Tren there,
breaking the news to her, comforting her distress.

'I think you made
the right choice to come here, Tren.'

'You fought
pretty hard against it at the time.'

'How far would
you have got by yourself, do you suppose?'

'Not far,' he
admitted.

'You'd probably
be drowning right now.'

'Steady. Mind the
ego. I concede that you were perfectly right.'

She smiled.
'We'll visit Mrs. Geslin on our way back to the city.'

Tren sighed,
pulling her a little closer. 'Who knows when that will
be.'

A miserable hour
passed - maybe more, it was hard to tell in the Lowers - and the
watery green light remained steady. Eva was forgetting what it felt
like to be warm, dry and comfortable. Her stockings stuck damply to
her icy legs; her skirts were a heavy, clinging mass weighing her
down. Her hair had come loose from its bindings and lay over her
neck like a mantle of ice. She was grateful to Tren for trying to
warm her (and himself), but it was a largely ineffectual
gesture.

'I don't see this
ocean miraculously disappearing,' Tren murmured against her
neck.

'Doesn't mean it
won't, any minute now.'

'It is not
looking hopeful,' he replied. 'Let's make a deal. If it comes to
it, you're to eat me for survival first. I have more meat on
me.'

'Raw, is
that?'

'Well, Lady
Glostrum, if it's a matter of survival I expect you to make
sacrifices.'

'I'll make you a
counter offer. If it comes to it, I'll eat one of your arms for
survival, and you may have one of mine. Which would you
prefer?'

He considered for
a moment. 'The left one, please. There's a shapeliness to the bicep
that's very appealing.'

'Done. Meanwhile,
when the light changes the very first thing we'll do is make a
fire. That's a promise.'

'Great. Here's
your chance.'

Eva opened her
eyes. The unsteady green light was indeed fading. They waited in
silence as a yellowish glow built in the skies and the ocean began
to churn. Eva's makeshift raft dipped and plunged on the choppy
waters, and she nearly slid off into the sea; only Tren's grip on
her waist prevented her descent. She clung grimly to the edge of
the raft, ignoring the bite of the wood into the tender flesh of
her hands. In another moment the sea abruptly disappeared. The now
bone-dry raft lay marooned atop an expanse of white sand dotted
with delicate objects resembling seashells, though Eva didn't think
any living creature could conceivably make a home in these highly
artistic creations.

'You mentioned
something about a beach?' She tried to sit up, but her frozen limbs
refused to obey her. She winced as pain shot through the frigid
muscles.

'So I did,'
answered Tren. 'You think it has something to do with
this?'

'No,' Eva replied
honestly.

'Well anyway,
next time I'll include a timeframe with my request.'

Eva tried to push
herself to her feet, her frozen muscles screaming in protest. 'You
can release me now, Tren.'

'It's no good, I
can't move.'

'How very
defeatist of you.' She unlocked his arms from around her waist and
forced herself into a sitting position, biting her lip on a cry of
discomfort. Tren rose shakily to his feet and stood over her,
swaying. His shirt and trousers were plastered to his body and he
wore a length of seaweed in his hair. He looked so dejected, she
couldn't help but laugh.

'What's
funny?'

'We are,' she
said, simply. 'Like a pair of half-drowned kittens. Let's make that
fire.'

He extended a
hand to her, pulling her up beside him. 'Your ladyship,' he said,
with a half-bow that he obviously regretted. Wincing, he went to
work on the raft, breaking it into pieces.

'Poor raft,' said
Eva. 'It wasn't exactly a work of art, but somehow I feel
responsible for its fate.'

'It's performed a
noble service, and now it shall perform another.' Tren laid the
sodden pieces in a circle. Then he collected driftwood and seaweed
from the beach - mercifully dry - and piled these up in the centre.
Finally he touched a finger to the heap and the wood caught fire.
The flood of light dazzled Eva’s eyes until Tren dampened the
radiance, after which she sat gratefully beside the little blaze,
stretching out her legs and arranging her disgusting, sodden
skirts. Tren seated himself to her right, tending to the fire until
he had a comfortable blaze going. Eva relished the warmth that
washed over her, allowing herself a small sigh of contentment. She
opened her sodden satchel, removing the book. Some of the pages had
taken a little water, but it was largely in one piece. She laid it
open on the sand, weighing the pages down with a couple of the
colourful shells.

Bartel sat as
close to the fire as he could without burning himself, panting
happily. Eva was amused to see Rikbeek clinging to the dog's back,
wings spread out to dry. Neither hound nor gwaystrel seemed to have
any objection to the arrangement.

'Is this the part
where I get to study the book?' Tren smiled hopefully.

'In a minute,'
she replied. 'When it's had a chance to dry.'

'I'll hold you to
that, m’lady.' Tren stretched himself out by the fire, holding the
sodden fabric of his shirt away from his skin, letting the air pass
through it.

'You know, I wish
I'd come down here sooner. There's so much to explore. Studies
should be conducted, publications written-'

'All of that's
been done before,' Eva interrupted. 'There's one of them right
there.' She waved a hand at the book.

'I've never seen
any research material on the Lowers.'

'Obviously they
aren't left on the public shelves.'

'Obviously?'

'What do you
think would happen if any of this was publically talked about,
documented? There'd be a stampede to see the wondrous Lowers;
hundreds of people would be jumping through the rogue gates, people
poorly equipped to deal with the dangers down here. Most of them
would never come back.'

Tren frowned.
'People should
know
, at least. They can make those choices
for themselves.'

She snorted.
'When you're a little older, you'll understand about the essential
idiocy of the average human being.'

'Not that that's
in any way patronising.'

She shrugged.
'Patronising or not, Glour's citizens are alive and well in the
Middle Realms. Down here, most of them would perish. Or did you
forget the part where I said even I tread very, very carefully in
the Lowers these days?'

'Where are these
mythical publications kept?'

'I can't tell you
that.'

'Oh my, it's a
conspiracy
,' Tren said, delighted. 'How do you even
know?'

'Because when
research teams are sent down here, a couple of summoners with
experience of the Lowers are always sent along.'

'And sorcerers,
right?'

'Right,' she
said, warily.

'Where do I sign
up for that job?'

'It's more that
you're signed up for it.'

'Well, I want to
be.'

'You may well be
anyway, once it's known you've spent time down here and
survived.'

Tren sat up,
turning his still-damp back to the fire. 'That's not the whole
story, though, is it? People come down here pretty regularly.
Summoners, herbalists after the plant life, and what about the
tales?'

'What
tales?'

'Tales of the
people who go looking for gates because they feel like they
need
to be down here. The ones who're never seen again in
the Seven Realms, and all that.'

'The fact that
they're never seen again seems to bear out the notion that it's a
bad idea, doesn't it? As for the others, well. Summoner groups are
sent down by the guild to collect examples of approved companion
species. That's a regular thing. Other than that, there's a huge
market for rare Lowers plants and animals, and as long as that's
the case there'll be people who flout the conventions and mount
their own expeditions. Some of them are successful, if they know
what they're doing.'

'Some of them
aren't?'

'Mm. People will
risk a lot for untold wealth.'

'Untold wealth?
Maybe I'll join that team instead.' Abandoning his efforts to dry
his shirt, he shifted until his back was turned to her and stripped
it off. For a scholar and a sorcerer, he was in surprisingly good
shape.

'You've gone
quiet.' Tren threw her a curious look over his shoulder. To her
dismay, Eva actually felt herself blush. That hadn't happened in
years.

'Er, I was just
thinking.' Eva busied herself with rearranging her skirts, turning
so the wetter parts were nearer the fire. She absolutely wasn't
staring at the play of firelight over Tren's marvellously supple
back muscles. Not even a little bit. 'All this upheaval. Gates
appearing and vanishing, animals going bonkers, the landscape
convulsing. It seems to have started when the istore was dug up.
But none of it makes any sense.'