Evastany Page 30

  I had arrived equipped to subdue her with all possible speed, and with the Council’s full permission to use all necessary force. I had with me a device which delivers a swift, ferocious charge of energy into the body of an assailant, sufficient to render the unfortunate soul unconscious in moments. And within moments, Dwinal lay senseless at my feet.

  Vabind judged it best to co-operate, after that.

  The young Lokantor, Vabind, I turned over to the Council. I had every intention of doing the same with Dwinal, of course, in accordance with policy. Unfortunately, she proved remarkably resilient and recovered from the effects of the shock I had given her with unusual speed. She escaped captivity at an unfortunate moment, and suffered still more unfortunate consequences. A more detailed account of the occurrence may be found in my report, filed within the Council’s archives.

  [Better, but vague. Moreover, I suspect some part of the above to be a pack of well-phrased lies. Such deceit, Limbane, is beneath even you. — Eva]

  You are difficult to please, your ladyship, and disconcertingly astute besides.

  I have not been fully truthful, perhaps, but I hesitate to proceed any further with my narrative. It requires an acknowledgement of certain actions upon my part which I was not fully authorised to perform. Actions which fly fully in the face of Council protocol, in point of fact, and I should not like such an account to fall into the hands of my enemies.

  I am assured that this book will not receive distribution outside of the Seven Realms, however, which must be reassurance enough.

  Having subdued Dwinal, what then was I to do with her? I do not think she much feared Council interference, for she knew what the procedure would be. She would be brought before a panel of judges, some of whom she had (I have no doubt) already corrupted in her favour. She would appeal to the rest by outlining the ground-breaking nature of her academic goals, and the scientific possibilities that would open up to us were she to succeed. She would downplay the brutality of her methods, and point out — rightly enough — that there was little proof of her worst excesses. Few would be courageous enough to testify against her, for fear of the punishments she would deal out upon her inevitable release from incarceration.

  Could there be any doubt of the outcome? Not in Dwinal’s mind, nor, alas, in mine. I had little faith in my fellows to convict her at all, let alone to take the appropriate steps to ensure she would remain incapacitated for the remainder of her lifetime. I came down upon the side of Hyarn, in this instance: if Dwinal were permitted to continue with her projects, a new era of war would indubitably follow.

  I also knew that Dwinal would never relinquish her goals, not so long as she lived.

  I could not, then, turn her over to the Council for judgement, as I did with Vabind. For Dwinal, I felt obliged to make special provision.

  I took her out of Vabind’s Library (I forget its official name and cannot be bothered to look it up. It cannot be considered relevant, for the purposes of this account). Upon arrival, I had observed a rather large number of draykoni occupying one portion of the island, and it occurred to me that many among them had more than sufficient reason to feel displeased with Dwinal. This circumstance having operated to my advantage before, I presumed to make use of it again.

  When Dwinal awoke, she found herself neatly deposited upon the edges of this fine community of draykoni. I do not imagine she was given much time to regret her misfortune. Precisely which draykon belly (or bellies) are now hosting the remains of Dwinal I do not need to know. I only hope, with the utmost cordiality, that the fine ladies and gentlemen in question found their unorthodox repast satisfactory.

  There, Lady Glostrum. Will that do?

  [I consider it a poor effort, but for a man unused to writing with lively energy — so accustomed as he is to the dry, dusty tone of academic report — it is not absolutely terrible. I award you a bonus point for using the word sepulchral. — Eva]

  None of it will do, I fear, for her ladyship was rather angered with me. That, however, I will leave to her own pen to relate, for I have done. No doubt her effusions will far outdo mine for colour and wit, though I do not dare hope that she will refrain from roundly abusing my character, and condemning me at last to the fires of eternity.

  If it helps at all, your ladyship, I do make some small apology for my (as I believe you termed it) dastardly, irritating bloody secrecy.

  Eva: Ouch, and Confound it All

  I was, indeed, rather angered with him. In fact, when I contrived to get him before me I greeted him by way of a roar. ‘Limbane! How could you!’

  I wanted to make a roar of it, that is, but since I was still flat on my back in a white-blanketed infirmary bed and suffering the agonising discomfort of a deeply-torn wound in my side, it emerged more as a hoarse whisper. Nonetheless, I believe he received the desired impression: I was most seriously displeased.

  ‘How could I what?’ he said, characteristically uncomprehending. Perhaps he thought I would be pleased, dear soul.

  (Which is not to say that it was not kind of him to visit me. I had not expected it. I give him due credit for not being entirely heartless).

  ‘Secrets!’ I bellowed (softly). ‘You could not have told me you had made arrangements to intervene? That the third Library would be yours? We thought we were done for! All was lost! And besides that you almost arrived too bloody late!’

  He held up his hands and made pacifying gestures, an attitude which has always infuriated me. I believe he was a trifle concerned, for I was working myself into a fine fit of fury and it cannot be deemed a helpful state of being for an invalid.

  ‘Forgive me,’ he said, and those two words took me so much aback that I was rendered speechless. ‘I ought to have notified you.’

  ‘Why did you not? You had a voice-box connection straight to me! You could have informed me of your plans in a mere two minutes!’

  His brow wrinkled. ‘A voice-bo— oh, I see what you mean. Yes, I confess I forgot about it. I am not used to working with others much, you see, let alone those who are not — I mean, who exist outside of my own society. It did not occur to me to recall that you would still be at Phay, caught up in the midst of it all.’

  And I sighed, for there was no use trying to explain. He had not said it in so many words, but it was evident that he had not imagined that we might be able to help him. Or he had forgotten us altogether, which is just as likely. So he had done it his own way, and I wanted to punch him, for had we known that such considerable help was on its way, we could have shredded the vortex and released our friends slightly later, in peace, and without being shot at.

  And I wouldn’t have a gaping hole in my side.

  That made it hard to forgive him, even if he was being unusually apologetic. I still haven’t, quite, but then the wound has not yet fully healed. Perhaps I will relent, when it does. It will probably depend on the size of the scar, and its relative lack of aesthetic appeal.

  The important point, of course, is that the day was won. The draykoni were severely compromised in ways we could not have foreseen, but they are freed and restored to their customary state of health. Eterna was in favour of burning one of the Libraries by way of recompense, and I did not necessarily think it a poor idea, myself. But no agreement could be reached as to which Library to choose as the target of their justifiable wrath, and since they were eventually outfaced by the sheer size of all three, the project was regretfully abandoned.

  The island of Orlind was restored to its customary position, and anchored there once more. Limbane saw to that, for which we are all grateful, even if he is irritating beyond words. Llandry and her fellows are restored to possession of it, and His Aggravating Lokantorship even saw to the cleaning-up of all the wrecked flyers which were left littering the sands, and the removal of the fledgling Library Dwinal had been building upon it. Was that not helpful of him? I begin to think him altogether reformed, or I would if he was not so adept a secret-keeper. I suspect him of duplicity. I cannot help
it.

  Identifying and ensnaring the four draykoni traitors was a more difficult task. Rastivan and Avane were of great use there; Avane was Avane, and even a damaged, paranoid soul like Rastivan could not resist her sweetness or her relentless insistence upon caring for everything, even a traitor like himself. He told her everything he knew, everything he suspected, and everything he had heard. While Tren, Gio and I we were out digging up collectors and getting shot, Avane and Rastivan were quietly working out the identities of the four, and tracking them down.

  Dan and Tynara were two of them, which by this time may come as no surprise. The two Maevals were the others: Unaris and Lania, both dedicated to showing up at just the right moment, with just the right information. Our two detectives took their information to Llandry, who deliberated a great while as to how to respond. At length she judged it a matter for the attention of all draykoni, and duly shared the news. With Limbane’s help (again), the four of them were retrieved and handed over to the draykoni, who did… something to them. I don’t know how they chose to deliver justice, or what their idea of justice for that betrayal might be. I did not ask, and I do not plan to. Bearing in mind Nyden’s idea of a fitting fate for Rastivan, I imagine I will not like the answer if I do.

  Why did they assist Dwinal? I think that Rastivan’s tales are the key. Out of fear — and hope, for they were Elders, and she made them know their danger. If you were told that your mind balanced always on the brink of disaster, and that you might slip into insanity at any moment, would you not be afraid? And if that person promised that you could be cured, and would be, in exchange for your aid — would you not agree? Many would not, perhaps, but some would. Some did. I leave it to the reader to decide how far they deserve to be condemned.

  For my part, I cannot muster much sympathy for them. I only need to remember the sight of stolen Orlind, littered with the felled bodies of so many of my friends, so many great and fierce and proud draykoni, to lose what little sympathy I am able to feel.

  And so all was resolved and made right, more or less, but there is the small matter of the manner of the resolution. I could not forgive Limbane for his secrecy, nor could I forgive him for swooping in at the last moment and fixing everything with no reference whatsoever to the rest of us. He practically waved a magic wand! Wretched stealer of credit! Waster of our efforts! I told him all of this, and he stared at me with that amused glint in his eyes which I desperately hate, for he was laughing at me.

  ‘I could not have done it without your timely information,’ he assured me. ‘It was your intervention that made the difference, and just in time.’

  This was generous. I acknowledge that freely. And coming from Limbane, of all people? All the juicier.

  But still. One has principles.

  ‘Very well, Lady Glostrum,’ he said gravely. ‘If it will make you happy, I will put it about that you and your friends were instrumental in overpowering Dwinal. Neither she nor Vabind will be in much of a position to contradict us.’

  This was more than I had hoped! There remains this book to record the true course of events, which is a trifle inconvenient; in this I have been too clever for my own good. But as far as Lokantkind is concerned, Tren and Ori and Gio and Nyden and Avane and all the rest of us — and me, absolutely including me — are the heroes who rid their world of a persistent threat. It may not be strictly the truth, but it is quite what we deserve, so I am entirely at peace with the deception.

  Except, perhaps, on Ylona’s account. She congratulated me upon my heroics and their spectacular success, and I felt a twinge inside — of guilt, in a mild way, and alarm, in case she should come to learn the truth.

  But the truth is written only in this book, and I am secure in the knowledge that she will never, ever read it.

  Addendum

  Three moons later, this manuscript is on its way to the printers. It is not intended for mass distribution, but I do intend to finance the production of some few copies, for addition to those Libraries — no! I mean libraries, the ordinary kind — that might benefit from its contents in years to come.

  My wound has healed and I am once again hale. But I have a scar the shape of a crescent moon marring the flesh above my right hip, which sounds a bit lovely but I assure you it is not. It is unsightly in the extreme, and I have therefore made my peace with never forgiving Limbane so long as I live.

  We returned to a water-ruined headquarters and a mess of wedding plans left partially completed. The former was resolved by the simple expedient of paying lots of other people to make the problem go away. The latter we resolved by dismissing my planner and eloping. After so much chaos and complication, I could not face another conversation about the exact hue of the ribbons tying up my bridal bouquet.

  Gio and Ori took inspiration from our approach, and did themselves some eloping, too. Is that not wonderful news? They are both installed at our (thankfully refounded) school as tutors, for the foreseeable future. Since we succeeded in retrieving our thieved students from the island (Fostiger among them, much to Faronni’s relief and delight), our school retained its full complement of eager pupils (mostly eager, anyway). We secured more tutors, both draykoni and Lokant, and the place is thriving.

  Nyden, however, we did not re-employ — though we thanked him most sincerely for his efforts, of course. Not everyone is cut out to be a teacher. Nyden is restored to Orlind, which may or may not have made Llandry very happy. But since Avane went with him, I hope she is not too heartily displeased with me.

  I have taken steps to expand our school into a larger organisation. At the moment we are calling it the Bureau for Lokant Heritage Investigation, Training and Employment, which is a little unwieldy, but I trust we shall come up with a sleeker moniker in time. It is my hope that the Bureau will revolutionise the lives of partial Lokants across the Seven (and we are, at last, beginning to recruit from among the Daylands and Nimdre, as well. Our reach grows apace). We aim to turn out graduates skilled in all the arts available to them, and thereafter to ensure they are employed at the highest possible level, to use their unique mix of abilities for the good of our Seven Realms. A lofty goal, is it not? I am breathless with anticipation to see what comes of it.

  My pen is about to be wrested from me, for Tren has come up behind me and seems intent upon securing it in spite of my fervent objectio

  [You have written enough, love. The book is finished. It must go to print, and you must come to bed.]

  Hmph. So he wrote in his gorgeous scrawl, and he is not wrong. In fact he is right, only I find it hard to relinquish this journal. I have grown used to recording my adventures, my thoughts. I enjoy the idea that the truths of our contributions, our struggles, our failures and our triumphs will be recorded for all of posterity, and read, perhaps, by our descendants, for many years to come.

  It is hard to let it go, but so I must.

  There are, after all, other journals. Empty ones, fresh of page and scent, just waiting to be filled with adventures.

  Perhaps this will not be my last. But if it is: goodnight, sweet book, and dear reader, farewell.

  End Notes

  Thank you for reading Evastany! Want more? check out the next Seven Realms book, Seven Dreams. Experience the first major challenge for Eva and Tren’s Lokant Heritage Bureau; see what Llan, Pense and the crew do with Orlind; find out what Ylona does next; oh, and meet Eva’s Lokant ancestress... Read on for a preview!

  Or sign up for my email newsletter at http://www.charlotteenglish.com/newsletter to sample one or two of my other books for free.

  Seven Dreams

  Seven mortal Realms I saw and seven keys had I...

  Serena Carterett leads a team of masqueraders, shapeshifters and reformed thieves. Their task? To oppose the criminal Yllandu at every turn. It’s a straightforward job — until the Yllandu get their hands on a mysterious stone artefact, and at the behest of a powerful Lokant employer. When a strange riddle appears in the sky, the hunt for the Seven Dreams begins.
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  Who will find the seven keys, and what do they open? Nobody knows, but Serena is determined to deny the Yllandu the prize. Her team must battle Lokants and sorcerers, scholars and thieves to solve the puzzle first. The hunt will take them all the way across the Seven Realms — and far into the darkness of their own past.

  Few aristocrats across the Seven Realms could match the importance of The Extremely Honourable Lady Fenella Chartre. She was the highest of the high; she knew it, and everybody else knew it too. Few would dare to compete with her for the first place at table, at even the most prestigious of dinner parties. No one would attempt to precede her out of a room. She secured the attentions of the most prominent gentleman present at any event, and without even trying. Her importance gathered around her like a cloak; it was evident in her every movement and gesture, every stitch of clothing that she wore, and every coil of her smooth blonde hair.

  Equal in consequence was her brother, The Remarkably Honourable Edlen, Lord Bastavere. Fortunately, his height was a perfect match to his consequence, and permitted him to look down his long nose at the lesser persons around him without much straining his lordship. They made a handsome pair, everybody agreed, and had been enjoying the very best of society for some years.

  Today, they had ventured beyond the borders of Irbel and explored into Nimdre. Their extremely large, thoroughly imposing and almost impossibly shiny carriage was making its way, at approximately half past seven in the evening, along a quiet but reassuringly well-kept road in northern Nimdre. It was drawn, of course, by a team of four high-stepping, perfectly-matched nivvens, their pale grey scales gleaming in the dying light. The destination of the noble pair was the grand country home of Dame Halavere Morann, a lady of lesser importance (naturally) but sufficient consequence to attract the interest of their lady-and-lordships. Lady Fenella reclined at her ease, gazing idly out at the darkening countryside as she reflected with satisfaction upon the delights of prestige, importance and superiority which she would enjoy at the Dame’s autumn ball. Her brother wore the faintest hint of a scowl upon his noble features; he had, perhaps, been obliged to forego some more eligible plan in favour of this evening’s entertainment.