The Draykon Series (1-3)

Chapter Fifteen

The Mail Runner stood outside the grand gates of the University of Waeverleyne, nervously shifting her armful of packages. She was new on the job, started only last week; maybe that was why she'd been shafted with the task of delivering to the university. Everyone else had been more adept at dodging this duty.

   She knew what it was she was carrying. The bulletins had been screaming about it for weeks: all istore to be turned in, for the owner's own safety. To be consigned to the care of Waeverleyne's scholars, who wanted it for research purposes. Well enough, but who was willing to cross Glinnery carrying such a thing these days? Remuneration had been offered, but the frightened owners of the remaining istore pieces preferred simply to be rid of them. And so, the mail. They packaged them up and sent them away, leaving the mail runners to take the risk. Her colleagues had been taking packages down to the university all week. Guards roamed the perimeters of the university grounds, a sight which alarmed her as much as it reassured her.

   She shifted from foot to foot, waiting. It was early in the morning, true, but still everything seemed too quiet. She'd been told someone would be there to take the delivery. She juggled her parcels into the crook of one arm and lifted the knocker again, rapping loudly. The crisp, sharp sound split the silent morning air.

   'Mail!' she yelled. A sudden realisation smote her: she was probably at the wrong door. Stepping back, she tried to identify some other entrance, a smaller, more accessible one. Soaring glissenwol trunks in rows met her eyes, many fitted with doors as well as windows. How was she to determine which was the correct door for the mail?

   At last she heard footsteps approaching. The gigantic doors remained firmly closed, but a smaller door further down opened a crack. She drifted downwards, flexing her wings to control her pace of descent. The interior of the gigantic tree was dark; she could see nothing around the door save the suggestion of a figure and the gleam of an eye.

   'Late,' somebody muttered.

   'I'm sorry, uh, sir? It's really quite early for a delivery-'

   'Hand it over.' The door opened a little wider, but she still couldn't make out anything inside the room save a patch of darkness that moved towards her. Trembling, she dropped most of the parcels at the figure's feet. The rest she placed into its hands, shuddering as her fingers touched something chill and damp.

   'Pick those up,' said the voice. 'Bring them inside.' There was nothing in the tone to tell her whether she spoke to a male or a female. Warily she bent down, hands shaking as she scrambled to collect her dropped packages. Something moved in the darkness, moved fast; a beast leapt at her face and heavy jaws snapped at her neck. As pain blossomed in her throat she heard a few sharp syllables, harsh like curses, uttered in an unfamiliar language. Then her vision faded and she heard no more.

***

   Devary Kant stepped beyond the confines of the Sanfaer house with a sense of relief. Not that he had especially minded acting guard over Llandry this past week; she was a sweet enough girl, when she managed to address more than two or three syllables to him, and the days had not passed unpleasantly. It was not in his nature to accept confinement for long, however.

   Aysun was building something. He said it would replace the staircase that wound up the side of the stout trunk of the house, some contraption that couldn't be operated by the slew of beasts that still poured through from the Uppers. Devary watched for a few moments, endeavouring to make out the plan behind Aysun's busy activity. So far he had constructed some kind of metal frame that climbed into the air like a giant insect, swaying slightly in the winds. Now he appeared to be building a box. Apparently it was commonly used in Irbel, but Devary didn't remember seeing anything like it on the one visit he'd paid there, years ago. He shook his head, walking on.