Pensould was a true draykon. He had never before taken human shape, and had little understanding of what it meant. Human customs were beyond him, and he had slept through most of human history. It had taken Llandry some days to effect her transformation back into human form, and considerably longer to teach the technique to Pensould. He wasn't particularly taking to it.
Sitting with her mother listening to Pensould speak, both his talents and his shortcomings were equally obvious. He spoke Glinnish haltingly, and he revealed his ignorance of her world with almost every sentence. But that he could speak her tongue at all was remarkable; he remembered every word that he heard and he seemed to have no difficulty understanding their meaning. His progress was slower outside of the Upper Realm, but still he was (she would have said) impossibly quick. It was as though he absorbed the sense of their utterances by some means other than a purely intellectual understanding of the words themselves.
'Soon, you will do that too,' Pensould informed her, interrupting himself.
She blinked. 'What?'
He tapped her head, hard. 'Your senses are dull. Flat. Too human. But I can feel you waking.'
'Waking?'
'Becoming more clever. More draykon.'
Llandry scowled. 'I am human.'
Pensould smiled, a rather frightening expression displaying too many teeth. 'No. Human-shaped outside, draykon inside.'
'I can assure you, Llandry is entirely human. I gave birth to her myself. I detected no sharp teeth, no claws, no unusual proportions.' Ynara kept her voice steady and her eyes on Pensould.
'Wings, though.' He grinned. 'I have seen humans before, long ago. No wings then. Why do you have wings now?'
'I...' Ynara faltered. 'Theories have been made, but no entirely satisfactory explanation has been found.'
Pensould leaned forward suddenly and grasped one of Ynara's wings. He tugged it, ignoring her discomfort, pulling it partially open.
'Not feathers like a bird. Not thin like a daefly. Webbed, strong. Draykon wings.'
Ynara opened her mouth, but nothing emerged.
'You, Sire-of-Minchu, are maybe half draykon. No, more. But you stay human; you wish it. Minchu-'
'Mother,' interrupted Ynara. 'And who is Minchu?'
Llandry's cheeks warmed. 'It appears to mean "mate", Ma.'
Ynara's grey eyes settled on her. Her brows lifted, ever so slightly. Llandry coughed.
'I'm not "minchu".'
'Minchu,' continued Pensould, unfazed, 'she is almost all draykon. I can feel it, not so much here but in Iskyr, she is strong. Draykon heart.'
'Iskyr?' queried Ynara.
'Upper Realms, Ma.'
Ynara was looking increasingly bewildered. 'Llan, please. Slow down. Who is Pensould? Where did he come from?'
'How much did Lady Glostrum tell you?'
'Everything she witnessed herself, I believe.'
'Well, Pensould is the draykon that the Ullarn sorcerers resurrected. His were the bones that I found. I know what he means, Ma.' Llandry shifted in her chair, sitting more upright. 'In Iskyr - the Uppers - I could sense his presence. I found his bones, and I felt him waking. It's like having several more senses than humans -'
'I used you,' Pensould interrupted. He sounded faintly abashed. 'Your energy. I needed it, to come back. It hurt, yes?'
Llandry frowned at him. 'Hurt? Yes, it hurt. A lot.' She didn't like to remember that experience. As she had felt Pensould's essence roar into life under her hands, she had been struck by incapacitating pain, unable to prevent herself being dragged through the boundaries between the worlds and deposited in the Lower Realms where Pensould in his draykon form was stirring into life.
'I suppose it was you who pulled me through,' Llandry said darkly.
'Yes,' Pensould admitted without remorse. 'You were too far away.'
Ynara groaned, and Llandry looked with quick alarm at her mother. 'Ma? Are you well?'
'Yes,' she replied faintly. 'I'm told my daughter is not a human but a draykon - a creature that, until recently, was not thought to exist at all; I learn that she has become the "minchu" of another draykon and that she has recently been made to suffer extreme pain and discomfort by her self-elected spouse; and after weeks of absence she suddenly reappears and now she sits in my living room, chattering with astonishing comfort about her new form, as if such things were no sort of surprise to her at all. Of course, I am quite well.'
Llandry was silent. It was true that it had taken her precious little time to adjust to her draykon form; instead of feeling uncomfortable in the new shape she felt rather as though her human body was the wrong one. As a draykon she was a different person: no longer shy, afraid, out of step with her own peers, but strong and comfortable in her skin. The experience had been a revelation. She knew in her heart that Pensould spoke the truth, but it was hard to admit such things to her mother.
For now, she elected to change the subject. 'I have more to tell you, Mamma, and Pa as well. Will he be home soon?'
'Your father,' Ynara said slowly, 'is in the Uppers, looking for you.'
Llandry was speechless. She would never have imagined that Aysun, with his lifelong fear of the Uppers so deeply ingrained, might go so far as to go after her.
'How long has he been gone?' She felt a stab of fear as she spoke, imagining the dangers that could have befallen him.
'You returned Dev to us,' Ynara replied. 'He left six days after that.'
Llandry nodded briskly. 'I must find him,' she said, coming to her feet. 'I'll bring him home to you, Ma.'
'How are you going to find him, Llan?' Ynara looked so weary and confused that Llandry's heart sank. She pulled her mother to her feet and caught her in an embrace.
'Same way I found Devary,' she answered. 'Is he... did he recover?'
Ynara hesitated before she replied. 'He did not die.'
Llandry frowned. That answer was cagey and incomplete, but there was no time to pursue it, not while her father wandered Iskyr on a fruitless hunt for her. 'Send him my love,' she said. Pensould frowned at that, but she ignored him. 'I must find Papa at once. We'll return soon.'
'I - Llan, wait-'
Llandry was already running back out to the balcony with Pensould behind her. She jumped and soared, climbing above the glissenwol canopy. Once she was above the level of the trees, she changed. In an instant she was draykon once more, arrowing through the air; in the blink of an eye she flashed through the barrier between the worlds into the Upper Realm of Iskyr.
***
Aysun had gone no more than three steps before his father's next words froze him where he stood.
'I've seen Llandry.'
Aysun turned. 'What.'
'She was here,' his father repeated. 'Not long ago. Come inside and I'll tell you about it.'
'I'm not coming inside,' Aysun grated. He was almost too angry to speak, but he forced himself to remain calm - at least outwardly. 'Come out and we'll talk about it.'
The old man grumbled at this, but eventually consented to shuffle onto the path before his house. His shoulders were hunched and he leaned heavily on his stick as he walked. He stopped a few feet away from Aysun and regarded his son expressionlessly.
'Where's Llandry?' prompted Aysun.
'She left,' was the cool reply.
'Couldn't you have... you should have...' Fierce anger swallowed Aysun's words and he could only stare at his supposedly long-dead father in pure disbelief.
'I brought her through, and you should thank me for that because she was in danger of her life,' said his father - Rheas - with chilling calm. 'I tried to protect her, but she refused to stay. No doubt she inherited that wilfulness from her parents.'
'You could have sent word.' Aysun forced the words through gritted teeth.
Rheas actually chuckled. 'Where to? It is not as though I have your address.'
'The fault for that is your own.'
'Is it? You stand ready to go to your daughter's aid, but you never came looking for me, did you? Nobody did.'
Aysun could find nothing to say to that. 'Tell me where Llandry went.'
Rheas shrugged. 'She has been caught up in matters far greater than you or I. She could be anywhere.'
'What? What matters?' Aysun took a step forward, his fists clenched. He was shocked to find that, for an instant, he truly wished to hit the old man.
Rheas lifted his chin. 'Llandry will show you herself. We will wait for her here.'
Two days passed and Rheas made no attempt to explain himself. Two days of withering coldness on the old man's part and a stubborn show of indifference on Aysun's. Rheas would not speak of his secret life in the Uppers, and Aysun refused to ask. His father spent most of his time tucked into a rocking chair in the central room of the house; Aysun therefore found it more convenient to wander out of doors, or to sit brooding in the bedchamber allocated to him. Not even Mags, the cheery and good-natured woman who inexplicably consented to live with his father, could draw him out.
He was sitting in this very chamber, sitting and brooding and trying to smother his anger, when a dark shape flew across the sun and cast a shadow over the house. Then came his father's shout, a cry somewhere between triumph, dismay and fury.
'Come down, son, ' his father cried.
Aysun went instead to the window. Two enormous beasts sailed through the air before him, rapidly drawing closer to the house. One was smaller than the other, its hide ghost-grey and pale. The larger beast wore scales of green-touched blue. They were impossibly big, impossibly winged and clawed. Aysun stared, briefly mesmerised by their grace and vivid colour.
'Aysun!'
He jumped, shook himself. There was emotion of some kind in his father's shouts, which was more than he had shown since Aysun had arrived. He descended to the ground floor, taking his time. Rheas and Mags were both standing at the door, blocking Aysun's view of the outdoors.
'Is this some trick of yours, old man?'
Without turning, Rheas barked a laugh. 'Your suspicion blinds you. If you want your daughter, I suggest you put that aside.'
'Llan? What's this got to do with her?'
Rheas didn't reply. He hobbled slowly out of the door, leaning on Mags' arm. One hand gestured impatiently to Aysun. Follow me, it said.
Mystified and annoyed, Aysun followed.
The two beasts had reached the house. As Aysun watched, they spiralled to the ground, one playfully nipping at the other's flanks as they descended. Behind him, Aysun heard Nyra's quick female step approaching, but he couldn't turn his attention to her. The sight of this strange, magnificent, outlandish pair of beasts utterly absorbed him.
'Aysun,' muttered Nyra, coming to a stop next to him. 'What's going on?'
'No idea.'
On the ground, the creatures were ungainly but nonetheless marvellous. Their hides were minutely scaled as though they were covered in a million beads of glass. They were four-legged, with pearly-silver talons and tails of immense length. Their wings reminded Aysun of his wife's in their construction, though these bore considerable differences in size and shape.
He wanted to go closer, despite their size, and examine the flashing trails of silver that outlined each tiny scale. But just as he formulated this wish, the air rippled - in the same way it did when a gate was opened between the realms - and the two beasts vanished.
In their place stood two human figures. They were not yet close, but in one of those figures Aysun could detect a familiar short stature and lithe form, black hair and lofty grey wings...
'Now do you understand?' came Rheas's soft whisper from behind him.
'No,' said Aysun. 'Not at all.'
The two figures didn't seem to notice that they had an audience. They were arguing; as they approached Aysun was able to discern their words.
'... why say you are not Minchu? To your mother, you say that!'
'I'm glad you've consented to use that word at last. I said it because it is not true!'
'But I say that it is true. But why must we speak with our lips and our tongues, Minchu, when we are alone? It is so clumsy.'
'Because you must practice your Glinnish before you meet my father.'
'Father?'
'Sire. We will come upon him any- oh.' Llandry looked up at last and saw Aysun standing before her, flanked by Nyra, Rheas and Mags.
Llandry's face filled immediately with relief. 'Pa! I was afraid you might have been hurt or worse but when I sensed you I felt you were well, only now I'm so glad to be able to see for myself that you are...' She threw her arms around him and continued to babble into his chest, but her words were too muffled to be discerned.
Aysun instinctively tightened his arms around his daughter, though his attention was distracted by her companion. He was a study in contrasts, stark white and deep black, vivid blue. Aysun was alarmed to realise that he viewed both Llandry and her friend with more than just his eyes; he sensed something different about them, a quality that they both shared. He had never noticed such a thing in his daughter before.
'Were those... was that you?' He spoke to Llandry, his voice emerging as a dry croak.
She drew back from him. 'Can you not know? Oh, Papa, this is a terrible surprise for you. I'll tell you everything, I promise. I see that you found Grandpapa?' She released him, and with a sunny smile she danced into the house. Her friend and Mags followed, leaving Aysun and Nyra staring dumbly after them.
'She seems well,' said Nyra.
'Quite,' Aysun agreed feebly. How far changed his daughter now was, Aysun could not imagine; but he was very certain he had never seen her so bright, so happy, and so entirely without the fears and the awkwardness that had plagued her since she was a child.
'Well,' said Rheas. 'Shall we go in?' He hobbled inside without waiting for an answer. Aysun and Nyra had no choice but to follow.