Evastany

28 IV-3

Not too shabby, right? Faronni became enthusiastic at once. ‘Well — it’s been so fascinating to learn of my Lokant heritage, and I could not be more interested in developing my abilities. But my other nature! My… failure disappointed my mother so terribly, and I have always wished for an opportunity to try again. I can do better, I know it.’

Reading between the lines there… somebody proposed to teach her sorcery, and Faronni was eager to learn. What had Ori said? At school, she had shown aptitude for sorcery but no application. How reformed a student she now appeared to be.

Interesting. We had stumbled over a fine little programme which proposed to turn out well-rounded Lokant-Sorcerers. Why? Good question. No Lokant ever did anything for unselfish reasons, so I am sure they expect to benefit by it at some point. In the meantime, though, Faronni is receiving decided advantages which I and my fledgling school cannot, alas, give her.

It’s growing harder to resent these abductions, though I still deplore the deceitful nature of the operation, and question its usefulness besides. If their goals were much the same as mine (at least as far as training these people up is concerned), why not seek to form an alliance with me? Why not do as Apparently-Limbane claimed to desire, and pool our resources? I don’t understand the secrecy, the deception, the manipulation. Even Faronni would clearly have come out here full willingly, if she had been told the truth about where she was going.

I exchanged an uncertain look with Tren, and read in his face a lot of the same kinds of thoughts. We would need to discuss all this, and soon.

‘We will secure a tutor very soon,’ I assured Faronni, and I felt I could say that with impunity, for no doubt our Lokant hosts would seek to fill that particular post as soon as possible. Which begged a few interesting questions. Where were they expecting to get a fully trained sorcerer from? Who did they plan to approach?

‘Where are your fellow students today?’ I asked Faronni.

‘They are in class.’ She blushed faintly. ‘I was excused from transloc because I am hopeless at it.’

‘That’s all right,’ I said, moved to a little pity by her obvious embarrassment. ‘I am terrible at mending myself, which clearly you excel at.’

She looked briefly delighted by the idea, though her demeanour soon turned to scepticism. ‘Really?’

‘Really.’

She smiled. I tried not to feel too disturbed by her obvious joy in my failures.

Her attention turned to Tren. Or rather, to Archivere. ‘Is this a new student?’ The smile she gave him was very welcoming, which raised my hackles a fraction. Ah well, who can blame her? He looks excessively handsome with the white hair. And the black hair. He’d look excessively handsome bald, come to that.

‘Archivere Dalsy,’ Tren introduced himself, and made her a bow.

‘Welcome!’ she enthused. ‘Erm, did you only just arrive? Shall I show you around?’

Tren looked at me, and I gave him a gracious nod. I didn’t altogether love the idea of leaving the two of them alone together, not considering how overjoyed Faronni clearly was at the prospect. But I shoved the jealousy aside. What better way to investigate than to receive a tour of the operation from someone who was thoroughly familiar with it? It was a little risky, of course; if the other lessons ended before the tour was concluded, Tren might be caught out. He was not, after all, supposed to be out of his suite. But needs must. I trusted him to figure this out for himself, and to take all due care.

I could help out a bit, though. ‘It’s a little unorthodox,’ I said with a confiding air. ‘Mr. Dalsy has yet to be enrolled. He hasn’t even met the tutors, yet, and I’d rather he do so via the official channels.’

‘I’ll keep it quiet,’ she promised, and flashed Tren another smile.

Excellent. With that, and feeling only a little bit heroically martyred, I returned a gracious nod to Faronni’s curtsey and Tren’s bow and watched as she led him away.

So. Turned loose in Sulayn Phay, by myself and equipped with a shiny new translocational device, what did I do?

Well, I went to dinner.

My logic was as follows. I have already noted that lots of interesting and useful things seem to happen over meals. This is because mealtimes gather people together, and when people get together they do fabulously interesting things like talk. A lot. If I wanted to find out what kinds of people lived here, and what sorts of questionable and fascinating things they were getting up to, it wouldn’t hurt to present myself at the nearest dining table.

I’ve already said that it wouldn’t be unusual for them to see a stranger wandering around. And it might prove to be handy. I could pose as a newcomer to the Library, and it therefore wouldn’t seem odd if I asked questions. Famous as I might be at home, I didn’t expect to be recognised in Sulayn Phay. I’m pretty sure the ordinary, day-to-day life of the average Sulayn Librarian doesn’t include reading the gossip papers of the Seven Realms.

I was also hungry. Hunger is an unpleasant state in which to exist, and I never see any reason to bear it if I do not have to.

I did not know where to find a dining room, of course, but the map in my head was not without its uses here. It did not have anything helpfully marked as kitchens, or dining parlours, or any such delights. But I could identify spaces which contained larger rooms, sized to accommodate such activities as group cooking and eating, and I made for those.

After a while I was able to follow my nose, for I began to smell something delicious cooking.

You may wonder how I was so sure that such activities as being fed would prove to be communal. After all, we may call these places Libraries because the nearest translation we have for the word Lokant is Librarian; even so it’s not unfair to suggest that they could more reasonably be compared to a village or perhaps a small town. People live in their own quarters and go about their own lives.

In Limbane’s Library, though, there were central kitchens which supplied a few dining areas. People were free to live entirely separately from everyone else if they so wished, but they were strongly encouraged to share mealtimes and some recreational activities as a group. It worked pretty well for Limbane, for it kept everybody in touch with one another and helped to discourage exactly the kinds of factional disputes which were dividing Sulayn Phay.

Seeing as Sulayn was modelled upon Estinor, I fully expected to find its day-to-day workings largely reminiscent thereof, too. Even if (one might reasonably conclude) they had not been quite so successful at maintaining such comfortable things as basic social order and general harmony.

So it proved. I discovered a large, airy, thoroughly delightful dining room, filled with succulent things to eat, and well-supplied with other diners.

Perfect.

As satisfactory as this was, my fond hopes of going unrecognised were almost immediately dashed. No sooner had I walked in, mustering all my confidence in order to appear as though I belonged, than I was spotted and stared hard at by a whole table full of people situated several feet to my left. There were lots of tables with lots of people sitting at them — a veritable sea of colourfully-dressed people with sleek white hair, it was an attractive sight — but to this particular set, my appearance was apparently significant.

So I stared back with a questioning air, but I did not stop. I went straight for the food. (It was my primary motive in seeking the dining parlour, after all. Hunger does not conveniently vanish just because one has other things to do!) Then, having chosen an array of tempting things, I drifted back in the direction of the table full of curious people.

As I’d hoped, I was invited to join them.

The flaw in this otherwise splendid plan was soon revealed, for though they chattered, they were not chattering in my own language, nor in any other that I recognised. I don’t know why this surprised me. Perhaps because Limbane and others have always talked to me so comfortably in the languages of the Seven, I have fallen into the habit of assuming they are as natural to Lokantkind as they are to us. They did make us, after all; it is not unreasonable to imagine that they also gifted us with their languages.

The words that fell from these people’s lips were close to my own, so close I could almost understand them. But they were not exactly like, and I recalled with some chagrin that I had heard such speech before.

So there I was, trying to eat and accomplish a little espionage at the same time, and foiled by so rudimentary a problem which I ought to have anticipated. And for which I had no solution. There was only one way they could have recognised me, you see: if they realised I was the real Lady Glostrum, I do not think I would have been permitted to continue walking about with such insouciance, for the fact of my escape must have been obvious. Probably they were not even aware that Lady Glostrum herself was in the Library at all; they took me for whoever it was that had taken to pretending to be me, and treated me accordingly.

This was handy, if they were going to talk to me of Secret Things which I otherwise would never have heard. But of course they expected me to speak their language.

Nothing to do but brazen it out.

‘We have a new student,’ I said in my own tongue.

This caused a little consternation, and some mild confusion as they tried to work out why I was speaking a Seven Realms language. It came down to what they would consider more likely: that whoever they thought I was had simply chosen to maintain the facade even in such company as this, or that some random woman from the Seven had somehow gained access to their Library and was now wandering around unsupervised. Moreover that such a person had possessed the gumption to stroll nonchalantly into their dining hall and rob it of several particularly fine dishes.

The latter, of course, struck them as impossible.

‘All right, all right,’ said a youngish man seated across from me, with a roll of his (admittedly rather pretty) eyes. ‘We award you full credit for dedication.’

‘Who’s the new student?’ said someone else, a petite woman with short hair and a violently blue dress.

‘A sorcerer.’ I was feeling my way carefully here, wary of messing up. Best not to say too much.

Some sceptical brows were raised. ‘Another one?’ said somebody.

‘The more, the merrier,’ I murmured.

‘What about that draykon?’

I looked sharply at the speaker, a man who looked roughly of my own age. He had a grim face, most unwelcoming.

Of course, I wanted to say what draykon?? and immediately demand a full explanation. Did they have a draykon here somewhere? Was he or she intended to be a student, or a teacher?

If the former, a student of what?

I could say none of this, of course, so I settled for a noncommittal shrug. If I hoped the gesture might provoke a more informative response, I was disappointed, for the grim-faced man shrugged too and returned to his food, apparently abandoning the subject.

Hmm.

I was beginning to receive some curious looks, perhaps due to my reticence. I had been laconic to the point of remark, after all, and for all I knew I was impersonating someone with a tendency towards loquacity.

Time to go. The fact that I had finished my meal might also have influenced my decision, though that point I can neither confirm nor deny.

‘Back to it,’ I murmured, hoping to convey that I was busy and off to do a range of vitally important things.

Nobody objected to my departure, to my relief, and I left the table feeling like I had got away with it. My heart might have been pounding a bit, but that point I can neither confirm nor deny either.