Draykon (34 page)

'Right,' he said
out loud, rising to his feet. The only clue he could recall as to
their whereabouts was the door in the sand that he and Eva had
found. The only sensible course of action open to him was to find
that door, one way or another. But just as he formed the resolution
he noticed that the pink light was beginning to fade. He had time
for a brief curse before the daefly garden dissolved around him,
overtaken by the sickly green light that was building in the
sky.

He grabbed Eva's
bag and the dog, clutching both to his chest as he waited for the
dizzying ripple across the world to resolve into solidity. When at
last it did, he was standing in a jungle. Trees decked with green
and blue foliage rose so high as to block out the sky, draped in
hanging vines and blistering with humid heat. The ground was
virtually impenetrable, bristling with spreading bushes and ferns.
He groaned at the sight.

'Right,' he said
again, taking a deep breath. Thinking of the shortig's sure
progress across Orstwych, he set the dog down and placed Griel's
book in front of him. He couldn't communicate with him the way Eva
did - in fact he had no idea how she gave the dog instructions -
but perhaps the clever hound would understand.

To his relief,
the dog behaved as it had at Edwae's house, investigating the book
with his large nose. Tren had no way of knowing whether he was
picking up enough of Griel's scent to be able to track him, but he
would have to trust the dog. After a few minutes the shortig sat,
finished, and gave a single, high-pitched bark.

'Good,' said
Tren, exhaling slowly. 'Off you go.' He took a couple of steps
towards the dog, who seemed to understand. The hound began to cast
for the scent, trotting in circles with his nose to the ground.
Tren watched, tense. He was staking this course of action on the
theory that only the surface of this world changed; beneath it the
ground stayed essentially the same. He only hoped that some vestige
of a scent would remain on this altered terrain.

The dog stopped,
yipped, then set off at a trot. Tren followed, confused. The hound
had obviously found something, but was it relevant? How did Eva
ensure the dog followed the right trail? He had no choice but to
follow, however; no other idea had occurred to him as a means of
finding Eva. The shortig led him swiftly into the jungle, Rikbeek
taking flight again from the dog's back to resume his guard duties
(at least, so Tren hoped).

He fought his way
through the undergrowth for some time, rapidly growing overheated.
Colours swam alarmingly bright before his eyes, even in the faint
moonlight that filtered through the leafy canopy. Vibrant blossoms
hung down at head height, far larger than any flower had a right to
be. When Tren noticed the size of the bees that fed on the nectar
of those enormous blooms, he resolved on giving them a wide berth.
Insects buzzed incessantly, too loudly; the amplification implied
that the bees weren't the only beasts out here that were
dangerously oversized.

After half an
hour Tren's clothes were wet with sweat, his hands and arms were
covered with scratches and he was gasping for water.

'Wait,' he called
to the dog, helplessly hoping Bartel would stop. He did. Relieved,
Tren stood still for a moment, breathing deeply. It occurred to him
for the first time that he was very exposed in this weird,
jewel-bright canopy. How could he have forgotten to Cloak himself?
He shook his head at his ineptitude and wove himself a
shadow-shroud. Sufficient shadows lurked beneath the trees to hide
him in his little slice of night, or so he hoped. He seemed to be
hoping for a great many things lately. He wondered idly how long
his luck would hold.

The dog was
panting, too, and starting to tire. Where could he find water? Tren
glanced about, uselessly. He hadn't come across any pool or stream
in the last half hour's travel.

Tren sat for a
moment, thinking. He was growing concerned at the length of time
they'd been travelling. Back in the sands, he and Eva had been
within sight of the strange little door in the ground when the
daefly garden had appeared. They'd wandered away after that, but
they hadn't travelled a half-hour's distance from it. Wherever the
hound was taking him, it wasn't to that door. That might mean that
Griel had gone somewhere else recently and Tren was on his way
there instead. Or it could mean that the dog was following some
other scent entirely. Or, perhaps, that book had not belonged to
Griel. The possibilities for failure were endless, and Tren felt a
moment's despair.

He sighed,
letting his head drop onto his knees. He thought briefly of Eva -
Lady Glostrum
, he corrected himself - trapped somewhere,
maybe hurt. Remembering Griel's tall figure with his pair of
whurthags at his heels, Tren suffered a surge of fear so acute that
his breath stopped. What might they do to her? Did Ana's 'purpose'
involve hurting or killing her? He surged to his feet. Lady
Glostrum was a woman who could take care of herself, but even she
had limits. He had to keep going.

***

Eva woke to a
flood of guilt. How could she have slept while Tren was loose
somewhere in the Lowers, alone? She threw off the mysterious
blanket and rose to her feet, shaking her head to clear it. At
least she no longer felt as if she was trying to run
underwater.

She looked down
at the pillow, the mattress and the blanket that had appeared
according to her needs. Had she done that? The ring had stopped
glowing, resting once again dull and ordinary on her finger. She
narrowed her eyes at it, thinking of gloren fruits. A bowl appeared
at her feet, piled high with plump, golden-skinned
fruit.

That's clear
enough
. She worked harder, testing the limits of this new
technique. She pictured the walls squared off, lined with brick and
properly papered. She envisaged a floor of polished wooden boards,
a ceiling of decorated plaster and a long window framed with
cream-coloured curtains. She added a desk and chair, a sofa, a
fireplace and a large rug in the centre of the floor. When she had
finished, she was standing in a perfect replica of her parlour at
home. The only thing that was missing was the door.

She added that
last, then crossed to it and seized the handle. Pausing a moment
for a brief, futile wish, she turned it. The door opened easily
under her hand.

Eva stopped,
shocked. Could it really be so easy? Collecting herself, she pulled
the door open wide and stepped through. A larger room stood beyond
the threshold of her new parlour, a room filled with bookcases and
workspaces. Books lay everywhere, wide open, their pages grubby and
occasionally torn. Eva ventured inside, reassured by its apparent
emptiness. Ana and Griel, apparently, were not here.

She stopped when
the dark head of a whurthag rose above the level of the table in
front of her. The creature growled, paced slowly around the
furniture until it stood before her. It didn't look ready to
spring, more as if it was inclined to play guard. Nonetheless, Eva
wisely didn't move.

Voices rang
hollowly from somewhere nearby, muffled and quiet but it was almost
possible to discern words. Slowly, carefully, Eva inched a little
sideways, then a bit more. The whurthag kept its icy gaze locked on
her, but it didn't move. With another shuffle, the voices
sharpened.

'... almost
ready. Two more pieces ought to finish it, or even one! That rock
the girl was wearing looked big enough.' Ana was speaking in
Ullarni, and for the first time in years Eva blessed those
interminable government meetings. She'd learned a lot of Ullarn's
complicated language out of obligation.

'It wasn't in her
room, but we'll have it soon. If she hasn't hidden it, she must be
wearing it, and I've arranged for pursuit if they try to leave. My
men may already have it.' Griel's voice, of course. 'But, Ana, are
you sure you're ready? I don't want anything to go
wrong.'

'How could it go
wrong? Are we not invincible, you and I?'

'No one is
invincible. Take some care, Ana. This project... it has obsessed
you. I think you would pursue it even if it destroyed you, and it
is dangerous.'

'So am I.' Eva
could imagine Ana's smile, too happy, too confident, undoubtedly
insane. 'Besides, with another summoner to help us we are even more
secure. All will be well.'

'What did you do
with her?'

'She is in the
cell, though I hope she will find her way out soon. We have work to
do. You have work to do, Griel dear. Go and get the last piece!
Quickly, quickly. We're very close, and we haven't much time.
They'll find us soon.'

Griel made a
sound of assent, but said nothing. His footsteps receded, and all
was quiet once more. Eva edged carefully back to her former spot,
unwilling to be caught eavesdropping. Her quick mind worked
briskly, processing what she'd heard. It wasn't very informative.
She still had no real idea why Ana wanted istore - what had she
meant by 'big enough'? Who was the girl mentioned? And what did she
mean by "they"? Surely she could not be referring to Eva herself;
she and Tren had already found Ana, and been summarily dealt
with.

At least an hour
passed, and Ana did not appear. The whurthag did not relax its
vigilance and Eva's muscles cramped, but she dared not make any big
moves like sitting down. It occurred to her, briefly, to try her
luck with the whurthag; perhaps she could subvert the command that
kept it standing at guard and exert her influence over it instead.
But a brief cast of the creature's mind quickly dampened that hope.
It was relentlessly fixed on her, and it badly wanted to kill; even
her light exploration of its mind nearly unbalanced the fragile
control that held it at guard. And she had no sorcerer to open a
gate, and nowhere to banish it to: she was already in the Lowers
and had no wish to send it back through into Orstwych. So she
waited.

At length the
sound of approaching footsteps broke the stifling quiet, and then
Ana's voice greeted her.

'Ah! Lady
Glostrum. Do come in. It took you a little longer than I expected,
but no matter.' Ana came through a door to Eva's right, advancing
towards her with the sort of gracious smile Eva reserved for her
special guests. She glanced past Eva into the room that had
previously been Eva's prison.

'I love what
you've done with the room. Perhaps I'll keep it like that. Cup of
tea?'

'What did you do
with Tren?'

Ana looked blank.
'Who? Oh, the boy! Not sure. He's out there, somewhere.' She
fluttered a hand in a vaguely upward direction.

'I want him
back.'

'Maybe
later.'

'No:
now.'

Ana didn't reply.
She sat down on a pretty, cream-upholstered divan, her beautiful
silken skirts fanning around her. She smiled at Eva over the cup of
tea she held in her dainty hands.

'Do come and sit
down. You look awfully fierce standing there like that. There's tea
in the pot.'

Eva felt herself
beginning to grow angry. 'You were responsible for the death of my
closest friend, and Tren's. Now you've left Tren out in the Lowers
by himself, with the express expectation that he'll die, and you
keep me here for some purpose you haven't explained. Of course I am
looking
fierce
.'

Ana looked at her
critically. 'That just shows you haven't had a cup of tea in a
while. Here.' She set her own cup down and poured a second one for
Eva. Her tea set was a perfect porcelain one, painted with
daeflies.

'Have a sip,' Ana
encouraged. 'You'll feel better.'

Eva controlled
herself with an effort. She made her way to the divan and sat down,
watching Ana warily. The tea smelled of yasmind and rosuis and
tasted like summer.

'Why don't you
tell me why I am here?'

'Oh! That's a
matter of seizing the opportunity, really.' Ana sat back, smiling.
'The truth is, I've a feeling we may need some help. It wouldn't
hurt at all to have another powerful summoner around. And you
presented yourself. Perfect, no?'

'What do you want
my help with?'

Ana gave her a
speculative look, then rose to her feet. 'Well, darling, why don't
I show you?'

Chapter Twenty Three

Llandry rose
early the next day after a troubled, restless night. She stepped
softly through the house, fearing to find Devary still asleep on
the sofa. There was no sign of him, however, and she felt a guilty
flicker of relief. She sat down, tucking her legs under her. She
was wearing the trousers she had bought at Draetre's night market,
and she felt both freed and rather exposed in them.

A clatter from
the kitchen drew her attention, and she wandered thither. Devary
stood with a cup in one hand, the other thrust into the pocket of
his trousers. He was tousled and sleepy, his shirt untucked and his
hair unbrushed. He looked at her expressionlessly, offering no
response to her shy smile.

'Good...
morning,' she said, glancing at the dark world outside. 'Not that
it seems like a morning.'

'It's very early,
but the sun will be up soon. I'll have breakfast ready in a
moment.' He offered her a steaming teapot. She poured herself a cup
and sipped gratefully, finding it to be slightly spicy and
fragrant. She'd barely taken two sips before an urgent pounding
began at the door. Devary frowned.