Draykon (4 page)

'What's this dark
one, the one with the silvery sheen? What's it called? Istore?
Never heard of it! Where does it come from?'

Llandry wanted
desperately to answer all of these questions, but when she tried
her lips trembled and she felt a constriction in her throat. It was
all she could do to force a few words out. She was frowned at, less
in irritation than in puzzlement at her odd silence. Words circled
dizzyingly through her thoughts, words she would never be able to
articulate. She hovered on the edge of panic, only the soothing
warmth of her tonic keeping her largely under her own control.
This was a very bad idea. Why did I allow myself to be
persuaded?

Still, those
whose questions went unanswered still bought, and Ynara's
conversation satisfied the more persistent ones. The moon still
shone high in the sky when Llandry's wares were almost gone. And
still a stream of market-goers visited her stall, asking about the
stones they'd seen their friends wearing. The word
istore
was repeated, over and over. Llandry's head swam. She brought more
and more pieces out of her boxes until they were almost empty, and
at last she found herself with only one of the istore items left: a
silver ring set with a large oval of the dark, beautiful
gem.

There was a
little bustle as she brought it out, a stirring and a muttering
among the crowds around her table. She looked up to find a tall,
richly dressed woman in front of her, a native of Glour judging by
her pale hair and dark blue, slanting eyes. Her clothes, her
bearing, her manner all revealed her to be of considerable wealth
and probably of high standing. Llandry inclined her head and the
woman returned the gesture, smiling.

'Elder Sanfaer. I
may have expected to see you in front of a stall, but not, I
confess, behind one.' Llandry stiffened, but the woman's face
betrayed no malice. Rather, she seemed amused. Ynara laughed,
taking no offence at all.

'Lady Glostrum,
what a pleasure. I am assisting my daughter.'

The lady's gaze
flicked back to Llandry, studying her quite intently. 'So this is
Llandry. You've spoken so highly of her.'

'Never highly
enough, I assure you.'

'I've been
hearing the buzz about a certain night-coloured gem. Your work, is
it, Miss Sanfaer?' She pierced Llandry with a direct,
uncompromising gaze. There was no getting out of giving a
response.

'Yes, Lady
Glostrum.'

Is
that the best you can do? Pathetic.

'Very, very
impressive. I don't say that merely because I know your
mother.'

Llandry
swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump that occupied her throat.
'Thank you.'

'Tell me about...
this one.' She reached out a slender hand and picked up the istore
ring, the very last one. Llandry sensed a renewed tension in the
crowds around her as they watched her movements, listening for the
response.

Don't panic;
just talk to her
. Llandry focused on Lady Glostrum's face,
pleasant enough in expression and bare of judgement.

'Istore. I mean,
that's what I call it. The stone.'

'I see. I have
never seen it before, and I am quite an experienced collector of
jewels. Who do you buy it from?'

'I - I don't buy
it. I collect it myself, from - from -'

'Oh? Is it
local?'

Llandry nodded.
'There is a cave, not far from - near to where I live. It's in the
walls.'

Lady Glostrum
nodded thoughtfully. 'If I were you, I would keep the location
quite a secret, Llandry. I think this will prove to be very
valuable.' She opened the elegant reticule she wore on her wrist
and withdrew a handful of coins. Handing them to Llandry, she
turned to the admiration of her new ring, sliding it onto one of
her long white fingers.

'There. That is
quite my favourite purchase of this moon's market.' She smiled at
Llandry, then looked at Ynara.

'Why don't you
visit me sometime soon, Ynara? Bring your daughter. I'd love to
visit you, of course, but the light of Glinnery would probably kill
me.'

Ynara chuckled.
'We'd love to visit, Eva. Soon, certainly.'

Lady Glostrum
nodded and left the stall, leaving a quick, gracious smile as she
turned away. Llandry let out a long breath, feeling weak and
drained.

'That's enough,
Ma. I can't bear any more.' She quickly packed away the few items
that remained, ignoring the mutters of those still trying to shop.
'Who was that, exactly?'

'Eva Glostrum.
High Summoner in Glour. She's a friend, though I haven't seen her
for a few years.'

'I sometimes
think you know everyone, Ma.'

'I meet most of
them through the Council.'

'I suppose you
would.'

Chapter Four

Images flickered
across the bulletin board in the centre of Glour City, headlines
repeating themselves on a rotating schedule. Eva Glostrum browsed
through to the society pages, seeking her own name. She didn't have
to search long: the story was the first to flash up onto the
board.

This
Author has often remarked on the inability of any Gentleman to
capture the lasting interest of the celebrated Lady Glostrum. The
High Summoner's independent status is to come to an end at last,
however, as it has just been confirmed that she is to wed Lord Vale
on the eleventh of the Seventh Moon of the year! Lord Vale also
revealed his intention to resign as Chief Investigator immediately
after the wedding. Speculation is rife as to who will take over the
coveted role...

The article was
accompanied by portraits of the couple. Eyde's was respectable
enough, but Eva winced when she caught sight of hers. It was not
particularly flattering. Her hair was a little disordered and
shadows smudged the pale skin beneath her eyes. When had that image
been taken? She hadn't noticed anybody with an image-capture in the
last day or two. The bulletin team was getting very good. If only
they had used an image from last night's ball, she would have been
rather happier with the report.

The article had a
great deal more to say about the matter, not resisting a comment or
two about Lady Glostrum's 'reputation' and the suitability of the
match. Eva smiled to herself. Yes, it was a highly suitable match;
she had made sure of that.

'What an unusual
picture.' Eva's friend Meesa Wrobsley stood at her shoulder,
studying the board with the closest attention. 'Wherever did they
get that?'

Eva shrugged one
slim shoulder carelessly. 'Probably somebody caught me on my way
home the night before last. I was a little tired.'

'More
importantly, you were
disordered
. I'm sure there's at least
one hair out of place in that picture. Maybe more.'

Eva gave a mock
shudder. 'I know. Unthinkable. I'll have to make up for this lapse
somehow.'

'Don't get too
much more perfect, I beg you. An occasional lapse in you is
comforting for the rest of us.'

'Perfect?
Nonsense. I just like things to be in their proper places, that's
all.'

'I know it well.
That's why I'm surprised you let that pretty ring out of your
sight. Its proper place was firmly on your finger, I
thought.'

Eva glanced down
at her slender white hand, bare of jewellery. 'It had to be
resized. It kept sliding off my finger.'

'But you lost the
ring anyway.'

'How could I know
that the jeweller would be robbed?' Eva turned and began to walk
slowly back towards the carriage that awaited her nearby. The theft
of her ring had disheartened her more than she was prepared to
admit. More than that, it troubled her. She had left the ring with
the jeweller overnight, and by the time the Night Cloak lifted at
moonrise, the ring was gone. The jeweller, poor man, knew himself
to be the obvious suspect, but the sight of his broken windows and
disordered shop convinced Eva that he told the truth: someone had
broken in during the darkest hours with the specific purpose of
finding that one item. How had anybody known that it was there? The
notion that someone had been watching her actions was
disturbing.

'Isn't she a
friend of yours, the maker?'

'Her mother
is.'

'Well, maybe you
can get a new one made.'

'I'm not sure I
want one.'

Meesa blinked at
her, her mouth dropping open in surprise. 'Don't
want
an
istore ring? Everyone
wants
an istore ring, including you. I
hardly saw it off your finger until yesterday.'

'Yes, but now
it's an official trend I can't possibly have anything more to do
with it.'

Meesa rolled her
eyes. 'True; nobody ever caught
you
following a
trend.'

'Setting them,
maybe.'

'Well, set a
trend for something new then. I'm getting an istore piece of my
own, and I don't want everyone to think I was just copying
you.'

'What? I didn't
know you were even interested.'

'Of course I am.
It's far too beautiful to be ignored. Numinar ordered it for me.
It's an anniversary gift.'

Eva found herself
with nothing to say. She felt a vague sense of foreboding that
puzzled her. A few days ago she might have sincerely congratulated
her friend on the acquisition of a prized piece, but now she was
changing her mind. Barely a week had passed since the Sanfaers had
turned up at the Darklands Market with their unusual bejewelled
wares, but enthusiasm for the strange gem had circulated with
astonishing speed. Everybody wanted an istore piece. A popular
fashion paper had rushed through a special article about the
jewellery and its enigmatic maker, doubling its readership
virtually overnight. Eva had been interviewed three times in as
many days for the society pages, finding herself the subject of
some unusual interest for being among the first to acquire an
istore item. With each new article she received a fresh storm of
requests to borrow or offers of purchase. Demand had risen so high
that the prices had swiftly doubled, then quadrupled as the Sanfaer
girl fought to keep up.

And now it seemed
some had taken to theft in their pursuit of this new status symbol.
In light of all of this, Eva could not feel entirely pleased about
her friend's anniversary gift.

'Just be careful
with it, Meesa.'

'No worries
there. I shan't take it off my finger.'

***

In the coach,
Meesa sank back against the comfortably cushioned seats, smiling.
She loved Eva's coach almost more than Eva did herself.

'You know, I can
hardly believe what's become of you.'

Eva glanced
round, surprised. 'What? You speak as though I've become some kind
of delinquent.'

Meesa grinned.
'Stopped being, more like. At school you were the rebel, always
breaking the rules and pushing your luck. Now look at you. A model
peer, a member of the government, and now you decide to get
married. And just like that, you'll turn your favourite lover into
your husband and become the perfect married woman. No doubt with a
perfect brood of children on the way in due course.' Meesa wrinkled
her nose. 'I can't decide if you're still the same Eva under all
that perfect conformity.'

Eva rolled her
eyes. 'Wisdom comes with age, or something. I was stupid when I was
at school. It took me some time to understand why the rules are
there, that's all.'

'And somehow, two
decades later, this translates into a sudden urge to get married
and reproduce.'

'Oh, stop
probing.'

'Sorry, can't
help it. I'm curious. I still can't believe you're actually going
ahead with it.'

Eva sighed. 'I
was fifteen when I inherited my father's title. He spent his whole
life working towards it, and then he died within a year of being
appointed to the peerage. And me? I was just throwing it all
away.'

'I thought you
didn't even like your father.'

'I didn't, but
that's not the point.'

It
isn't?'

'A peerage is
more important than my personal feelings for my father. Anyway, I
feel like maybe my mother would've been disappointed in
me.'

'You didn't even
know your mother. I suppose this is your idea of explaining, but it
isn't making any more sense.'

Eva shrugged. 'I
tried. It makes sense to me, anyway.'

'Fine. I just
hope you won't regret it. I'm pretty sure it isn't really...
you.'

Eva turned her
head and stared out of the window. She wouldn't dream of admitting
that she had doubts, but Meesa knew her well. These, however, were
unproductive thoughts. Her decision was made, for clear, rational
reasons, and she wouldn't be dissuaded from it now.

***

Eva's coachman
dropped Meesa off at the house she shared with her husband, and Eva
rode the distance to her own house in solitary silence. Her
thoughts wandered away from her own concerns and returned to the
curious stone. She remembered Llandry's face, so like her mother's,
completely guileless as she answered Eva's questions. It was hard
to believe that such a thing merely lay in a cave in Glinnery, for
anybody to stumble over, and yet nobody had; even now, it seemed
that Llandry alone knew of its location. She knew that Llandry had
been implored to give interviews; for days the papers had been
printing hearsay about Llandry Sanfaer along with regretful
statements about her lack of availability. She hoped the girl had
the sense to keep her head down, but she feared for her. Something
about Llandry had struck her as a little odd, even a little bit
fey. She'd performed her role as if she viewed the market and her
customers from a great distance, her mind elsewhere. Did she
realise what had become of her presence at the Market? Any second
appearance must be highly inadvisable. The girl would be
mobbed.