Draykon (5 page)

The coach was
moving at a steady pace, just passing a mail station. Eva called
for a halt and went inside, assuaging her unease by dispatching a
note to Ynara. She watched the pale-winged bird fly away into the
night, her note forming a neat ring around its leg. She remembered
her own words to Llandry at the market:
If I were you, I would
keep the location quite a secret. I think this will prove to be
very valuable.
Apparently Llandry had followed her advice. Had
she been right to suggest it? No doubt the profits were princely by
now, but Llandry would not be left in sole possession of the gem
for long.

Eyde was waiting
for her when she arrived home. He greeted her with delight,
enfolding her in an embrace. She submitted to it for a few moments
before pulling away, gently but firmly. She allowed him to kiss
her, briefly, then busied herself pouring a drink for
him.

'Is the
announcement up?'

She blinked at
him, confused. 'What?'

'Of our
engagement.'

'Oh. Yes. It's
all over the bulletin.'

He nodded. 'The
boys'll know about it by now, then.' The 'boys' were his team of
investigators; almost all men, because the job could be a dangerous
one. Women didn't often sign up. Eva had met very few of them, but
those she encountered impressed her with their earnest manner and
intensity of focus. On the other hand, they did tend to seem
horrifyingly young. It made her feel old.

She realised she
hadn't answered him. She gave him a distracted smile as she donned
a silk shawl, wrapping the fabric closely around herself. She
curled up in her favourite chair, conscious of his eyes on
her.

'Any news on the
robbery at the jewellers?'

'I'm afraid not.
I've got a couple of people working on it, though. We'll get your
ring back.'

'I'm not that
worried about the ring, Eyde.'

'No? You seemed
very attached to it.'

'I shouldn't have
been. It's not healthy to be so fascinated by a stone.'

He frowned at her
quizzically. 'What's brought on this change of heart?'

'Don't you think
it's odd, how people are behaving over it?'

He chuckled. 'No
more so than any other trend. Remember when you wore that gown with
one shoulder missing? I don't think any seamstress in Glour got a
proper night's sleep for a whole moon afterwards.'

She laughed. 'And
that's hardly the only time it's happened. Perhaps you're
right.'

'Of course I am.
What happened to that gown, by the way? I liked it.'

'Oh, I have it
somewhere.'

'You should wear
it again. Maybe at our wedding.'

'That would be
far too cruel. Those poor tailors need time to recover.'

'Maybe a new
gown, then, in a similar style. In blue. I like you in
blue.'

She tugged her
shawl closer around herself with a sharp movement, feeling
unaccountably irritable. 'It's too soon to be thinking about the
wedding.'

'It's barely a
moon away. We ought to begin planning it soon.'

'Only a moon? No,
surely not.' She frowned, silently counting the days. He was right.
A sigh escaped her at the prospect, and she avoided his
eyes.

'Eva,
darling.'

Obliged to look
up, she arranged her features into a cool expression.

'Are you quite
sure about this?'

'This?'

'The wedding.
Marrying me.'

'You have asked
me that already, Eyde.'

'Yes, but still,
you don't seem...' He floundered, groping for the right
word.

'I don't seem
what? In love?'

Her bluntness
made him blink. 'I- yes. I suppose that's what I intended to
say.'

'We've discussed
this.'

He sat down
opposite her, running a large hand through his close-cropped grey
hair. 'Why did you ask me to marry you?'

'I believe I
explained that at the time.'

'Tell me
again.'

'It makes sense.
You are of a similar social standing; of a suitable age for me; we
have known each other for long enough to have a comfortable
friendship. A partnership between us is likely to be
beneficial.'

He looked at her
sadly. 'Beneficial? Sense? Friendship? Eva. That cannot be all that
you expect from a marriage.'

'Why should
anybody expect more?'

'You've heard of
love, I presume.'

Her lips twisted.
'I've heard of it. I've also heard of a few other things that don't
exist.'

'Love doesn't
exist
?'

'Not in the way
people describe.'

'If you believe
that, why marry at all?'

'It's
time.'

'I see. And these
are your reasons for choosing me.'

She sighed,
growing impatient. 'Why wait until
after
the announcement to
question me about this? It's going to be awkward to change your
mind now.'

'Oh, I've no
intention of changing my mind. I've drawn the greatest prize in
Glour, you realise.'

'Only you wish it
was different.'

'No.' He paused,
thinking. 'No. But I might hope you'll come to think differently in
time.'

She looked at the
ceiling. 'If anyone can change my mind I daresay it will be
you.'

He didn't answer
for a while. When she looked back at him, he gave her a tiny,
tenuous smile. 'Maybe.'

He stood up
suddenly, breaking the tension. He smiled down at her. 'I ought to
be going. Oh, how's my shortig coming along?'

'Well. He's
almost ready.'

'I hope he's
getting on well with that gwaystrel of yours. They might be working
together someday.'

'Rikbeek
bites.'

'Surely Rikbeek
doesn't bite
everyone
.'

'Everyone and
everything. Your hound is not exempt from the biting, I'm
afraid.'

'Ah well. He's
too small to do much damage.'

Eva inspected her
scarred hands. 'Not for lack of trying.'

Vale chuckled.
'How long before the dog finishes training?'

'Half a moon,
maybe? Certainly no more.'

He nodded, then
swallowed, jangling his hands nervously in his pockets. 'Kiss me
before I go.'

She grinned,
amused. 'Don't say it as if I'll bite you for asking.' She rose,
letting the shawl drop onto the chair. 'After all, we agreed on the
merits of
kissing
a long time ago.'

He eyed the
expanse of shoulder and bosom revealed in the absence of the shawl.
'True, but a few things have changed since then.'

She slid her arms
around his neck, smiling. 'Some things haven't changed.'

Eva felt the
anxiety drain out of him under the kiss, replaced by a new kind of
tension. He drew her close, stroking her bare shoulders. She
grinned.

'Do you really
have to go this very moment?'

'Not at this
exact moment, perhaps, no.'

Chapter Five

The letterbox
rattled loudly as letters began to tumble into Llandry's hallway.
The sound was intrusive, a metallic clatter that frayed her nerves
as she tried to work. She braced herself, knowing that the
disturbance would take some time. She was receiving more and more
mail every day, ever since the Market. Orders for jewellery came in
so fast she couldn't fill them all. She hated having to raise
prices - it made her feel greedy - but it was the only way to
reduce the clamour. Even so, she was working at a ferocious speed
day and night trying to keep up. The craze for her jewellery was
completely astonishing, but she knew it wouldn't last.

The letters that
bothered her more were the solicitations from other jewellers,
enquiring after her supply. She'd considered writing back with the
full details, until she recalled Lady Glostrum's advice. Her
mother's friend was perfectly right: a true businesswoman knew
better than to give away the source of her success. She'd refused
the requests - politely, of course - though more recently she'd
taken to ignoring them. It seemed as though every jeweller in the
Seven Realms was petitioning her for information.

The letterbox
shrieked again, loudly, as something large was forced through it.
The sound shattered her concentration and she quickly placed down
her tools before she could damage the ring she was working on. She
padded through to her tiny hallway, Sigwide at her heels. If she
answered the door she could accept all the mail in one go and
silence that abominable racket. Stepping over the small mountain of
paper on the floor, she unlocked the door and opened it.

A young man stood
on the ledge, struggling with a sack of mail. His arms were full of
envelopes, some of which threatened to spill over and sail away to
the floor far below. She stepped forward, extending her
arms.

'I'm so sorry.
Let me take those.'

The boy looked
harassed. He muttered a thanks as she relieved him of his burden,
then glanced around nervously.

'I wouldn't hang
about, miss. Get back inside, quick.'

She lifted her
brows. 'Why?'

'Um,
because-'

'Miss Sanfaer!' A
woman's voice broke in as a slight figure swooped down from the
skies, landing so swiftly that she almost knocked the mail boy off
the ledge. She held up an image-capture and light flashed in
Llandry's astonished face. 'Miss Sanfaer, I'm from the Herald here
in Waeverleyne. Our readers are anxious to hear more about your
remarkable jewellery. What can you tell us about the
istore?'

Llandry was too
amazed to speak. She stared as more figures appeared behind the
reporter, many carrying image-captures and notepads. They hovered
in the air around Llandry's front door, and more flashes of light
assaulted her eyes. More figures appeared on the staircase below,
wingless men and women from the other Dayland realms and even one
brave (or desperate) man from Glour, his nocturnal eyes completely
enclosed inside black-lensed goggles.

Stunned, Llandry
felt panic racing through her as this swarm of people converged
upon her. The mail boy saved her, shoving her gracelessly back into
her house and slamming the door behind her. The stacks of mail fell
from Llandry's numb arms as she fumbled with the key.

A knocking
sounded at one of the windows. She darted through her house,
breathless and shaking, slamming each window shut and barring the
shutters. Only when each possible entry into her house was firmly
closed did she slow down. She slumped to the floor, fighting with
herself for every breath of air. She felt ready to asphyxiate.
Stumbling through to her kitchen, she found her cordial and took a
long swallow, her hands trembling so badly she almost dropped the
bottle.

It took her an
hour to calm down, an hour that she spent curled up on her kitchen
floor with Sigwide in her arms. The orting was alarmed, too; her
latent summoner senses caught his fear, but she was too thoroughly
disturbed herself to do more than hold him close and wait until
they both felt soothed. At length her breathing eased and she felt
stable enough to brew tea without shattering her teapot and cups.
She rose to her feet a little shakily, tucking Sigwide into the
carry sling she always wore around her waist. He would be happier
kept close.

The letters were
more of the same. She perused a selection of them as she sipped her
tea, choosing several at random. There were forty letters today,
half of them containing orders for jewellery together with money in
several currencies. Many of them had vastly overpaid her, even
though her prices were already (so it seemed to her) extremely
high. She laid a cool hand against her hot forehead, her thoughts
buzzing. She had fifteen orders already outstanding, so that made
thirty-five, and she had only enough istore left to fill
approximately ten of them. But with that swarm of bodies outside
her house, how could she possibly reach her cave without being
accosted, questioned, petitioned, detained, or possibly
worse?

She thought
briefly about giving the whole thing up. It was a tempting thought,
but would it bring the desired results? Would the letters stop
coming? Would the pushy petitioners stop crowding her doorway?
Doubtful. It was too late for that.

Besides, if she
was honest with herself, the prospect of giving up her istore was
painful. No matter how much trouble it brought her, she still felt
soothed when she held a nugget of that stone in her hands. Wearing
it made her feel stronger in some way, calmer, more in control of
herself. She lost some of that feeling of dislocation, that sense
she always carried of being out of place and out of sync with the
rest of the world. Spending her days working with it, running it
through her fingers, polishing its beauty and setting it into a
succession of equally beauteous items made her satisfied, proud,
happy. She couldn't imagine just abandoning it.