The Draykon Series (1-3)

Chapter Nineteen

   Devary was silent. At last he said, 'Well then, we had better finish our business quickly.'

   Llandry warred with herself, feeling a surge of guilt at his obvious anxiety. She had followed him when she knew she shouldn't, making a burden of herself, and now she had made it worse. But it was humiliating to have to keep apologising for making her own decisions.

   He drove for a while in silence. 'I sent a message to your mother last night, informing her of your whereabouts. I also told her I would not be sending you home yet, and that I would ensure that you are safe. It would be ideal if you could refrain from making that harder.'

   'Fine. I won't do any more wandering.'

   'I am sorry that it must be that way, but it won't last forever. Now, here we are.' He guided the little carriage down an alley, barely wide enough to admit the neat vehicle. Another left turn brought them into a courtyard, inside which a few other carriages were parked. Devary handed her down from the carriage with the utmost politeness, but something in his manner suggested she had annoyed him. Her stomach twisted with miserable anxiety at the idea, and suddenly she was all too inclined to condemn her own behaviour. The notion was frustrating. How long must she rely on others to protect her? And why was Devary's disapproval so painful?

   She hid her face in her hood as they passed through a narrow door into a long, oddly winding corridor. Space opened up either side of her, large rooms glimpsed through tall archways as they proceeded rapidly into the heart of the building. She saw bookcases crowded with books and framed with chairs like supplicants before a throne; each chair bore a silent occupant, absorbed in the pages of a volume.

   'Where are we?' Her voice emerged startlingly loudly in the hushed atmosphere, echoing off the cool stone walls.

   'Draetre's university library.'

   'It really doesn't seem large enough to have a university.'

   'It's of an unusual kind. Here.' He held open a door for her and she passed through it, registering that Devary locked the door behind them both. She surveyed a chamber smaller than the others they had passed through. A woman sat at a table near the window, studying a large book that lay open before her. The book was evidently very old; its leather covers were tattered and decaying, and its spine was supported upon a soft cushion that lay between it and the desk.

   The woman looked up as they entered. Her eyes rested first on Llandry, with a considering stare that made her quite uncomfortable. Apparently around Devary's age, she was clearly Nimdren with her curling chestnut hair and light-coloured eyes. The woman's face changed as she transferred her keen gaze to Devary. She smiled, reluctantly, as if she sought to suppress the expression but it overcame her efforts. She stood up and advanced towards Devary, and he stepped forward to meet her. Llandry noticed that he was wearing the warm smile he'd so often turned on her.

   'Indren. It's been far too long.'

   'So it has. Your fault for moonlighting so long in Glinnery.' The woman, Indren, smiled all the more as Devary carried her hand to his lips and kissed it lightly.

   'And I see you brought one of them back with you.' Indren's eyes, a rather startling pale green, rested again on Llandry.

   'Yes, quite an important one. Llandry Sanfaer, Ynara Sanfaer's daughter. You remember Ynara?'

   'Yes.' The word was said without inflection, and Llandry wondered whether the recollection was a pleasant one for this stranger.

    'Llandry, this is Professor Indren Druaster. She's an expert in Off-World history.'