Evastany

28 IV-4

I was halfway to the door when I realised one of them was coming after me.

I was tempted to throw dignity to the winds and beat the hastiest of all possible retreats, but nothing could have been more foolish or more cowardly. So I forced myself to slow my steps, and allow my pursuer to catch up.

It was the woman with the blue dress. She looked sideways at me, and then said in a low voice: ‘Gio is back.’

‘Oh?’ I said, in a neutral tone.

‘You didn’t know?’

‘How long has he been back?’

‘I don’t know, but Myla saw him earlier. He’s running with Ylona’s lot.’

Well, whoever she thought I was, it wasn’t Ylona. ‘Interesting,’ I said.

‘Mm.’ She walked along beside me in silence for a time, and we exited the dining parlour together. ‘He hasn’t been to see me,’ she said after a while.

‘Nor me.’

‘That’s clear enough then, isn’t it?’ The woman sounded bitter, which intrigued me. I might have thought she was some kind of… connection of Gio’s, save that I had never seen any sign that he felt that kind of an interest in women. Why was she dismayed by his absence?

She said nothing more, taking her leave of me a moment later. I walked on alone, deep in thought as I made my way back to my suite. It was time to place myself back where I was supposed to be; I had been long enough absent, and to stay away longer would be to unnecessarily increase the risks of trouble.

I went past the classrooms on my way, and retrieved Tren. He and Faronni were getting on swimmingly, and I almost had to drag him away. He later explained this by assuring me that Faronni had given him masses of useful information, and who knows what else she might impart if given more time? I perfectly believed him of course, but I may have given him cause to imagine that I did not.

It does not hurt to give one’s beloved reason to sweat a little, from time to time. It is unwise to allow them to become too comfortable, lest they begin to take one for granted.

We returned to my suite, and hastily swapped notes. I told him about my adventures with the woman in blue, and he told me about the school. Faronni had given fairly minute descriptions of the two tutors, though I was not able to match them to anybody I had seen in the dining parlour. By her account, her course of study was rigorous and demanding; they were serious about training her up. Susa was the star of the class, quite the pet of both the teachers, and expected to be a great success.

To my disappointment, however, nobody seemed to know what this “success” constituted. It had been strongly implied that they were intended to fulfil some ultimate purpose, but what that might be had been left unspecified. There were merely nebulous promises of “rewards” to be won by those who were sufficiently talented, motivated and generally brilliant.

‘We had better make sure you have a chance to milk her some more,’ I observed, when Tren had come to the end of his tale.

He blinked, and I had to privately admit that my turn of phrase might have been unfortunate. ‘I would be delighted to milk her,’ he informed me, his eyes all a-twinkle.

I narrowed mine at him. ‘Meanwhile,’ I said sternly, ‘this question of a draykon. Did you hear any mention of that?’

‘None whatsoever. According to Faronni, all of her fellow students are like her: partial Lokants from across the Seven, a mix of Daylanders and Darklanders by the sounds of it. All of them are either sorcerers or summoners as well, though few of them are especially talented at those arts — or perhaps they’re merely untrained. I don’t know. I thought it an interesting implication, that those with Lokant blood have typically done poorly at sorc or summoner school.’

Interesting indeed. ‘I wonder if the two are poorly compatible, somehow.’

‘Could be.’

‘And I wonder if these people realise that.’

‘Perhaps they do. I hear that Susa’s sorcerer skills are a bit beyond what was expected for the group. That’s partly why she’s the star.’

‘Mm. So they’re looking for the rare ones who are fairly adept with both sides of their heritage.’

‘Supposing any such exist. Yes.’

‘Of course they do. Am I not proof of it?’

‘Tren looked sheepish. ‘Incontrovertible proof.’

I thought about all of that, but no obvious conclusions jumped to mind. ‘I need to see Gio,’ I said. ‘I wonder if he knows that he’s been rumbled.’

‘I don’t suppose it would surprise him.’

‘No, perhaps not. Intrigue, intrigue. Family politics! Dark rumours! Gossip! It is most exciting.’

Tren made a grimacing face. ‘Too exciting. I am tired.’

‘Then go to sleep. Now that we know the girls are well, it falls to us to be docile and dutiful for a while, and do some waiting. They will come for us eventually. Best to be well-rested when that happens.’

Tren agreed to this. Our leave-taking might have taken rather longer than was strictly necessary, but at length I had him safely deposited in his own room, and me in mine.

Having already napped, I was lively enough to retrieve my journal from its customary spot and make all of the updates you are now enjoying. (You are enjoying them, are you not? Please say yes. I positively refuse to write a dry, staid account of my doings, over which people will yawn and fall asleep. If necessary I will start to embellish — include more improbable events, more colourful occurrences, more… pizzazz. Just say the word).

I have now done. You are brought all up to date, and I have only to do some waiting. In keeping with my desire to entertain rather than bore you, I will not force you to wait with me. Away goes my journal, and I will write more only once something interesting and preferably exciting has happened.

I, meanwhile, resign myself to all the dullness of some hours, or possibly days (…possibly even weeks? Oh goodness please say no…) spent waiting alone. Wish me luck.