The Draykon Series (1-3)

Chapter Nine

   Llandry swung her legs out of bed and stood up, gingerly. Her legs trembled, but she didn't fall. She moved her arm carefully, gently working the muscles. Days of her mother's diligent care had considerably lessened the pain, and she felt herself to be healing. She still felt weak and shaky, but that was due to inactivity as much as injury. It was high time she left her bed.

   She took a few steps, smiling when she didn't topple. Sigwide sat on his haunches, watching as she pulled a woollen shawl around her shoulders. He was overwhelmed with excitement when she moved towards the door; he raced around her feet and then darted on ahead of her, making his way unerringly to the kitchen. Obviously he'd been making himself at home while she slept.

   'Ah, Siggy.' She felt a surge of affection for her friend. He had barely left her side during her confinement to her room. Whenever she had woken, she'd found him curled up on her stomach or tucked against her side, purring at any sign of life from her. If she was immobile, he would be immobile too. It was comforting to be the object of such unconditional devotion.

   Her pleasant feelings evaporated as she reached the kitchen door and heard two male voices inside. The dark, gruff voice was her father's. The other was Devary Kant. She froze. She had assumed he would have left by now.

   Peeking into the kitchen, she saw Devary sitting in one of the dining chairs with a large book spread across his lap. She hung back in the doorway, studying him covertly from the safety of the shadows.

   He wasn't a young man precisely, but he didn't look very old either. Perhaps he was about her mother's age, just entering his forties. His skin was a little weathered, as if he travelled a great deal. He said he was from Nimdre, and his accent seemed to confirm it, but his complexion was as pale as any Darklander's. He wore his longish brown hair tied into a tail. She noticed smudges of ink on his face; as she watched he absently brushed back an errant lock of hair, transferring more coloured inks from his fingers onto his temples.

   Ynara wasn't visible, but her voice could be heard speaking.

   '...timing is interesting, Dev. Twenty years without a word from you, and then you turn up, all of a sudden, in the middle of an inter-realm crisis?' Devary started to say something but she cut him off. 'I don't care to hear your tales again. You can't expect me to believe this is just a social visit.'

   'But it is,' said Devary. 'Wait a minute, let me explain.' He sighed and closed his book. 'I admit my arrival at this time is no accident. I was sent, yes. But when I said I was retired, I spoke the truth.' Ynara snorted derisively but he ignored her. 'My employers have refused to accept my resignation from duty. They required somebody to visit this household and discover the truth about this istore stone. I believe their motives are above board, as far as that counts for anything. If I had not accepted the assignment, they would have sent someone else - someone less sympathetic to your family. And, Ynara...' He leaned forward, his expression growing earnest. 'This is a social visit. I've wanted to come back, for years I've thought about it. This merely gave me a reason to overcome my fears of seeing you again. I don't know if you'll forgive me, but I want to make it up to you. I do. Just tell me. Anything I can do for you or your family, I'll do it. Anything.'

   Llandry felt curiosity and discomfort in equal measures. As interesting as this was, she shouldn't be eavesdropping. She backed away from the door, meaning to return to her room and await her mother's visit, but Sigwide had grown tired of waiting for her. He ran heedlessly ahead and nudged open the door with his nose. His thoughts were full of food - as usual - and he sent her an excited image of a bowl brimming with fruits and nuts. Before she could prevent him, he had darted into the kitchen.

   Devary had seemingly learned that where there was Sigwide there was generally Llandry, too. His sharp hazel eyes followed the orting's casual progress across the kitchen floor, then travelled to the doorway where she stood. He smiled, looking remarkably at ease for a man with ink all over his face.