The Draykon Series (1-3)

Lokant: Chapter Five

'That's not what I had in mind when I ordered Baynson's finest,' she observed.

Tren looked up with a grin. 'No? Then what did you have in mind? You owed me two shirts as I recall, but no less than twelve came out of the box.'

'I was just making sure.'

'Making sure of what? Are you planning to ruin several more of my personal garments?'

Eva grinned. 'It does seem to happen when I'm around.' Tren had ripped up one of his own shirts to bind a hand wound for her, when they had been en route through Orstwych some weeks ago. Later, another shirt had been irrevocably damaged when they both took an unplanned dip in ice-cold salt water. She had promised to replace them, and so she had. She'd even provided an upgrade to the quality. A considerable one.

'This silk is remarkably comfortable to wear, though a little thin,' Tren continued. 'Maybe that's what you had in mind: layers.'

The multiple shirts he wore were in clashing colours. He had a dark red shirt over a leaf-green one, over a beautiful purple colour. Eva chuckled.

'Baynson would have heart failure if he saw you like that. By the way, there are cushions for the books' spines.'

'I know, but if I am to enjoy the luxury of pure silk shirts, why should I deny it to the books? Lulled into a sense of pampered security, they will give up their secrets the more easily.'

'Ah. And how is that working out?'

'Quite well. For example.' Tren leaned forward in his chair and leafed through the book that rested before him. Eva recognised the aged, dark leather of Andraly Winnier's book. 'We - or at least, I - assumed that this book, looking as it does rather terrifically ancient, is the work of a long-dead author. However, there are some entries describing recent events in the Lowers and - this is the good part - they're obviously written in the same handwriting as the oldest entries.' He paged carefully through the book, demonstrating his point, and Eva leaned over the desk to see. She had to agree: the newer script was written in different ink, but the letters were formed in the same manner.

'You're certain the events described are recent? Maybe this isn't the first time that the Lowers have suffered this kind of disruption.'

'Interesting that you asked that. I am certain that these entries are very recent, yes, but there are earlier entries describing the same kinds of things. And these recent chapters refer to that. Here: The re-emergence of the draykon race has upset the balance of Ayrien, causing serious upheaval of a type previously observed and recorded during the Eterna Conflict.' "Ayrien" seems to refer to the Lowers, but I've yet to find any more references to an Eterna Conflict.'

'Ayrien,' Eva repeated. 'I've never heard that term before, have you?'

'Nope. I'm going back to the City Library tomorrow to look for them both. That's not all, though. Look at this.' Tren turned to approximately the middle of the large tome, revealing the roughly-torn stubs of several missing pages. 'There are a few more torn out throughout the book. No indication as to what they discussed.'

'I wonder if Griel removed them,' Eva mused. 'Though I can't imagine why he might have. It's a pity we didn't get longer to explore the tower; maybe we could have found the missing pages.'

'And who knows what else,' Tren agreed. 'What's making me very curious, though, is the identity of the author. Who is Andraly Winnier? This person appears to have been writing for an impossibly long time.'

'That's not confirmed,' Eva replied. 'Handwriting can be imitated.'

'True. But why bother?'

Eva shrugged. 'If it's conceivably possible, then it should be considered and investigated.'

Tren grinned up at her. 'You're a curious mixture. In some respects you're a complete rebel, and in others you're a surprisingly conservative woman. Even, dare I say, pedantic.'

'But imagine how dull life would be if everyone was completely predictable. Please, Tren, for the sake of my sanity, take off the extra shirts.'

Tren laughed. 'That's really bothering you, is it?'

'Yes. It's hurting my eyes. I can't consent to stand anywhere near you while you're like that.'

'That is a grave threat,' Tren replied seriously. He disappeared for a moment under a succession of silk shirts as several clashing colours came off. Eva collected the discarded shirts and folded them up, arranging them into perfectly colour-coordinated pairs. At length Tren was down to only one shirt, a perfectly inoffensive blue one.

'Thank you,' she said. 'Now you may proceed.'

'That's everything I had to report.' Tren pulled in his chair and focused on the book again. 'I'll let you know if I find anything else interesting.'

'I'll send Beane in with some refreshment,' she offered.

He shook his head without looking up. 'Thanks, but I don't want to risk getting the books dirty.'

'Very well; then I shall call you for lunch.'

She wanted him to look up and smile again, but he kept his eyes fixed on his book. 'Thank you.'

She nodded, though he didn't see the gesture, and departed.