Lokant (27 page)

So she waited,
anxiously and with poor grace. She tried to slide between the
worlds the way she did so easily in her draykon form, but on
passing the walls that enclosed this strange place she encountered
nothing.

Simply nothing, as if
the place really did exist entirely in isolation from everything -
even time.

That had shaken her
badly.

How she wished to be on
the wing in Iskyr again, strong and proud and sure of her place in
the world. Too rapidly was she turning back into the person she’d
been until only a moon ago: insecure, unsure, full of doubts and
anxieties and prone to the distressing attacks of panic that she’d
hoped never to feel again. Pensould’s presence could not wholly
soothe her, for he was as uncertain and confused as she; he had
little calming influence to share. Only Sigwide could comfort her.
Loyal as ever, her orting refused to be parted from her. The warmth
of his small body and the softness of his fur under her hands kept
her stable, more or less, his chattering distracting and amusing
her.

Cold,
he often
said, and she would wrap him in her cloak and hold him close until
he stopped shivering.

Food,
he would
say next, and she’d share the bowls of nuts she begged from the
Library kitchen.

Thanks.
She was
trying to teach him manners, and some of it was finally starting to
take. For a while she had waited for him to communicate in more
detail, hoping that it was her lack of ability that kept his
impressions brief and simple. But he stayed the same. Loyal though
he was, perhaps intellect wasn’t his strongest attribute.

It didn’t matter. She
loved him anyway.

She was sitting in the
middle of the chart room one day - not that days could be counted
anymore - when Tren approached. Pensould, against whom she was
resting, tensed with the usual suspicion he felt whenever anybody
approached Llandry - especially anybody male. Placing a hand on his
arm to soothe him, she mustered a smile for Lady Eva’s friend.

And privately she
agreed with Pensould in wishing him away. He was a stranger and a
confident, good-looking one at that. That combination was painful
to her frayed nerves.

He had obviously taken
her measure, for he approached her with a kind of gentle,
essentially patronising carefulness that she often experienced from
good-natured strangers.

‘Miss Sanfaer,’ he
began.

‘Llandry.’

‘Llandry. I’ve found
something that may interest you.’

She stood up with some
reluctance and followed him, all the way across the vast chamber to
a stretch of the wall that looked the same as any other. It had
been Tren who had discovered how to activate the weird enchantments
that operated the wall’s writings. The text had been plain black
when she had first entered this room, but now the walls glowed with
colour. What the significance of the different shades was had not
yet been determined.

Most of the writing on
this part of the wall was blue, with splashes of purple.

Tren gestured to the
nearest ladder. ‘Up about halfway. Take some care, it’s
wobbly.’

Warily, she climbed.
Pensould stood at the bottom holding the base of the ladder, though
her diminutive, too-thin frame did little to affect its
stability.

‘That’s about right,’
said Tren after a while. ‘Do you see it?’

‘Do I see what?’

‘Keep reading, right
about eye level there.’

Llandry let her eyes
run over the neatly-scribed names. None of it meant anything to
her, and she turned to cast Tren a puzzled look.

‘Keep reading,’ he
said, smiling encouragement.

She obeyed, having
little else to do after all.

Ayla Sanfaer.

Sanfaer? She read on,
faster now, her thoughts suddenly buzzing.
Eron Sanfaer, Octovan
Sanfaer, Liritia Sanfaer.

Ynara Sanfaer.

Llandry Sanfaer.

She blanched, staring
at her own name on that impossible wall. Most of the Sanfaers’
names were written in blue or purple, though predominantly blue.
Hers shone blue, purple and gold by turns.

Bright, bright gold
that dazzled her eyes.

‘What does it mean?’
she asked, her voice shaking.

‘I don’t know,’ Tren
admitted as she climbed slowly down. ‘Have you seen any other names
in gold?’

She shook her head.

‘Eva said the same
thing. It’s something to consider, isn’t it?’

He was too cheerful,
given their predicament. It was impossible that he didn’t chafe
under the confinement as did she and Pensould. It was impossible
that he didn’t feel frustrated at the too-small nuggets of
information that Limbane fed them, and the vast deal more that he
withheld. But he was one of those people whose cheerfulness somehow
never wavered.

She hated those people
on principle. They made her feel wholly inadequate.

‘Thank you for showing
me,’ she said with stiff politeness. He nodded, his eyes quizzical
as she turned away from him.

It was Lady Glostrum
who discovered the next gold-touched name, some immeasurable time
later. In fact she found several in the same section of wall,
though they were not linked by any obvious relationship to one
another.

‘There is some time
scheme here, some kind of chronology,’ she murmured, mostly to
herself. ‘But I cannot understand it.’

This new crop of gold
names was situated a long way around the room from Llandry’s own.
Interestingly, none of them had family names. Further, in this part
of the room many of the names remained plain black, displaying no
colours at all.

Llandry studied them
carefully, though without much effect. Each gold name was connected
to a plain black name. Springing from these groups were more black
names, and an occasional blue or purple one. As the chart
progressed, the colours became more common and each name was in two
parts: given name and family name.

Pensould,
she
said silently.
Can you make anything of this?

Pensould had long given
up on ladders. He spent a lot of time in his draykon form, the room
being quite large enough to accommodate him. Now he flew to her
side, hovering with a skill that impressed her.

I cannot read human
letters. You must describe to me what you see.

She hadn’t realised
that before. Gracious, no wonder he was so bored.

Can’t you learn, the
same way you learned to speak my mother’s language?

Perhaps, if you will
teach me.

I think we have
time,
she replied with a little laugh. She relayed to him
everything that she saw, watching as his keen eyes swept the wall
where she pointed.

What is being
displayed?

Family relationships.
See, here is my name. My mother’s name, and my father’s. The names
of their parents, and so on.

Is there a link between
your name and the other gold names?

Llandry stared round
the room, noting the distance between her own name and the section
where Lady Glostrum still stood.

Pensould, it could take
weeks to track backwards from my name, all the way around to
here.

Well, we appear to
have time.
His tone was disgruntled, for which she didn’t blame
him. It didn’t suit him at all to sit and wait.

True,
she
admitted. At least she could teach Pensould his letters while she
worked.

Long before Llandry
completed this lengthy task, she discovered something else.

Evastany
Glostrum,
marked on the wall in blue. But as Llandry watched,
it melded into pale whitish-silver and back to blue.

Eva greeted the
discovery with irritation. ‘Gold names, silver names,’ she
muttered. ‘What is this, some kind of test?’

Her ladyship’s
composure was crumbling further as time passed. Llandry found it
unnerving to watch the woman’s unflappable demeanour steadily erode
away. She could see that it affected Tren, too, for he moved
towards her with the air of a person anxious to comfort. But she
scowled at him so fiercely that he backed away.

Llandry sighed and
turned her back on them. The atmosphere in this curious puzzle of a
prison was deteriorating further the longer Limbane and Andraly
absented themselves.

‘The silver must denote
Lokants,’ Lady Glostrum said after a while, in a steadier manner.
‘If we could find Ana or Griel, or Krays, we could confirm that
theory.’

Llandry thought fast.
‘If that’s true, then perhaps - perhaps the gold means -’

‘Allow me to assist,’
came Limbane’s voice. ‘Not that you aren’t doing splendidly on your
own.’ She whirled to find the white-haired old gentleman standing
at Lady Glostrum’s elbow. He smiled pleasantly and pointed up at
the dome.

‘My name is up there,’
he said. ‘Near the top. We coloured it in silver. Andraly’s - also
silver - is a little further down. Yours is a weaker hue, my dear,
because while you have a great deal of Lokant in you, your unusual
make-up consists of some other heritage as well. Notably draykon,
and a little human.’ He looked at Llandry. ‘Gold, as I think you
were about to infer, denotes draykoni. Miss Sanfaer, we estimate
that you are approximately ninety percent draykoni, with only
minimal human heritage. That has happened because most of your
ancestors are descended directly from draykoni. You may imagine
that this is a rare occurrence.’

Llandry found nothing
to say.

Limbane pointed without
hesitation to another part of the room. ‘Mr Warvel’s name you will
discover over there. Perhaps seventy percent draykoni heritage.
Mostly from the Everum tribes, which usually results in sorcerous
talent. And with your strong heritage, Warvel, that means a lot of
it.’

‘Wait - what -’

Limbane ignored Tren’s
stuttering and turned on Pensould. ‘Master Pensould is not on this
chart, because his blood has never been mixed with another’s and he
has no descendants. Nor were his parents ever recorded on this
chart, because he predates our system.’

Llandry felt Pensould’s
flash of pride at the idea.

‘Have I now answered
most of your questions?’

‘No!’ Eva said. She
stood glaring at Limbane with her elegant hands clenched into fists
and her mouth set. ‘Questions and more questions you’ve raised and
only partial answers offered. The most important question I wish to
put to you is
why are you keeping us here?’

Limbane patted her arm.
‘You were supposed to be resting, your ladyship, that was the plan.
Though I apologise if I have left you here for longer than I
intended. I am used to the workings of the Library, I suppose, and
that tends to eradicate any real sense of urgency after a
while.’

‘
Resting?’
Eva
spat.

‘Resting,’ Limbane
repeated, with offensive affability. ‘There is much to be done and
you will be needing your strength.’

‘Ah -
what,
exactly, are we to be doing?’ That was Tren, hands stuffed in his
pockets as usual and watching Limbane with a befuddled air.

Limbane began to appear
annoyed. ‘That is not a constructive question, Mr Warvel. We have
another Eterna Conflict brewing, thanks to the efforts of our
draykon friends here; Krays is up to something and I usually
dislike anything Krays is up to; and I fear he has altogether lost
his grip on some of his trained partials, and that means rogue
Lokants, and -’

‘What,’ said Eva with
studied calm, ‘is the Eterna Conflict?’

‘That has been
discussed,’ replied Limbane, a dangerous edge to his tone.

‘No. It hasn’t. After
you explain
that,
you might also be kind enough to inform
me
of who, or what, I am.’

‘And me,’ Tren put
in.

‘And how is it that I
could be draykoni and never know it?’ added Llandry.

Only Pensould had
nothing to say, choosing only to bare his teeth at Limbane.

Limbane inhaled
sharply, his expression turning testy. ‘If I am to have to repeat
myself
every
time I see you I imagine it would be more
efficient to find assistance elsewhere.’

‘Now, Limbane.’ Andraly
appeared beside him. ‘You know how you forget things. I imagine
you’ve left a few gaps in our new friends’ knowledge.’

‘I feel certain that we
discussed the matter of Lokant heritage and the Eterna Conflict,’
Limbane replied stubbornly.

Eva shook her head.
‘You abandoned that story halfway through.’

‘Very well,’ he sighed.
‘Conduct them to my room if you please, Andraly.’ He vanished.

Andraly grinned at
them. ‘He’s old,’ she said. ‘He gets forgetful. And crabby. Follow
me, please.’

Llandry found
Pensould’s hand and gripped it hard as Andraly led them out of the
chart room and through a muddling series of corridors, staircases
and chambers until at last they arrived once again in Limbane’s
quarters. He was already seated in the most comfortable chair,
sipping at a glass full of dark liquid. Andraly offered her some of
the same; tasting it, she found that it was sweet and alcoholic.
The effect it had was calming, much the same as the tonic she had
used to take.

Andraly winked at
her.

‘Beginning at the
beginning, then,’ said Limbane after they were all settled. ‘A long
time ago, draykoni were relatively numerous. They arranged
themselves largely into two tribes: one lived mostly in Iskyr, what
you call the Upper Realm these days, though some of their kind took
up residence in the connected world of Arvale. Now called
Glinnery.’

‘That is not the
beginning, Limbane,’ said Andraly.

He smiled at her.
‘Don’t interrupt, Andra, please.’

She sat back with a
chuckle.

‘The other,’ continued
Limbane, ‘preferred the realm of Ayrien - the Lowers - and its
Middle World counterpart, Everum or, these days, Glour. Humans
never set foot in Iskyr or Ayrien in those days; indeed they were
unable to. They had little notion that such worlds even existed.
They lived mostly in those areas you now call Irbel, Orstwych,
Ullarn, Nimdre and Orlind.’