can't get a
straight answer out of anybody as to why. Something about increased
dangers.'
That dovetailed
with a few odd reports she'd received recently from summoners. A
few of them felt that the Lowers were growing more unstable, more
difficult to navigate. She hadn't taken them too seriously; it was
the sort of conclusion newer summoners often reached when they
found themselves out of their depth down there. But perhaps there
was something in it after all.
'Here,' said
Numinar at last, shoving a bottle into her hands. 'Next batch I
make is yours, okay?' He was already heading back up the stairs,
anxious to return to his plants.
'Thanks,' she
said, belatedly. She didn't bother to say goodbye; she knew he
wouldn't hear her. She made her way back down the cramped staircase
to the lower floors.
There were no
lights anywhere in the Wrobsley home. This was not unusual; the
Night Cloak had been in place for generations across the whole of
Glour and the surrounding irignol forests, and the eyes of
Darklanders were accustomed to the gloom. However, silvery
light-spheres mimicking moonlight were popular for indoors. Eva
kept some lit in her own home, and she knew that Meesa did
likewise. Perhaps she was in the garden.
Eva let herself
out of the house, stepping carefully through the gardens. Meesa and
Numinar both would be incensed if she crushed any of their plants.
She kept to the pathways between the neatly tended rows, watching
for bobbing light-globes in the darkness.
She rounded the
north corner of the building. There - a silver gleam announced a
sphere at low ebb, bobbing hazily a few feet from the ground. She
followed the little drifting beacon, calling her friend's
name.
No answer greeted
her, nor sign of movement. She caught up with the globe, dousing
its light by tucking it inside her cloak. She stood still,
searching the darkness.
'Rikbeek,' she
murmured, opening her cloak. 'Search for me.' She pictured Meesa
for him, offering an image made up of movement and sound. The
gwaystrel sneezed in protest, but stretched out his webby wings and
took flight.
Within a few
minutes she caught the faint sound of Rikbeek's signal. She walked
in the direction of his call, puzzled. He was using his warning
sound. How could that be?
'Stop pranking
me, you little beast,' she grumbled. 'Just because you didn't want
to be disturbed-'
She stopped
speaking. Her nose was registering a new scent: sharp, wrong. She
tensed, her heart suddenly thudding.
An inert, dark
shape lay on the darker ground. She released the light-globe, its
feeble glow lightening the gloom by a few shades.
Meesa lay among
the crushed remains of blooming milkleaf plants. She was barely
recognisable, her upturned face displaying long gashes running from
her temple to her chin. Deep wounds latticed the flesh, blood still
glistening wet and red in the low light. Her flesh was cleaved
through, glimpses of pale bone visible beneath the shredded
meat.
Eva clenched her
jaw against a desire to retch. She knelt resolutely, searching for
signs of life. Nothing.
It occurred to
her that the fresh wounds indicated a very recent demise. Was
Meesa's attacker still nearby? She leapt to her feet and tried to
listen, both with her ears and her summoner senses. Her heart
thumped wildly, rushing blood drowning other sounds, but she felt
the imprint of an alien beast's mind not far away. Too
close.
As Rikbeek crowed
and dived, Eva caught a glimpse of movement near the ground to her
right. Pale eyes gleamed coldly in the darkness. She backed away,
horrified, unable to look away from those icy orbs. Seconds passed.
Then the blue-lit eyes winked out, and the presence vanished. She
breathed, then turned, stumbling in her haste to reach the
house.
Numinar's
reaction was swift. He didn't wait to ask questions; he merely tore
outside, leaving Eva to follow at a slower pace. She stepped into
the street and accosted the first person she met, a young man who
she sent hurtling away to
straight answer out of anybody as to why. Something about increased
dangers.'
That dovetailed
with a few odd reports she'd received recently from summoners. A
few of them felt that the Lowers were growing more unstable, more
difficult to navigate. She hadn't taken them too seriously; it was
the sort of conclusion newer summoners often reached when they
found themselves out of their depth down there. But perhaps there
was something in it after all.
'Here,' said
Numinar at last, shoving a bottle into her hands. 'Next batch I
make is yours, okay?' He was already heading back up the stairs,
anxious to return to his plants.
'Thanks,' she
said, belatedly. She didn't bother to say goodbye; she knew he
wouldn't hear her. She made her way back down the cramped staircase
to the lower floors.
There were no
lights anywhere in the Wrobsley home. This was not unusual; the
Night Cloak had been in place for generations across the whole of
Glour and the surrounding irignol forests, and the eyes of
Darklanders were accustomed to the gloom. However, silvery
light-spheres mimicking moonlight were popular for indoors. Eva
kept some lit in her own home, and she knew that Meesa did
likewise. Perhaps she was in the garden.
Eva let herself
out of the house, stepping carefully through the gardens. Meesa and
Numinar both would be incensed if she crushed any of their plants.
She kept to the pathways between the neatly tended rows, watching
for bobbing light-globes in the darkness.
She rounded the
north corner of the building. There - a silver gleam announced a
sphere at low ebb, bobbing hazily a few feet from the ground. She
followed the little drifting beacon, calling her friend's
name.
No answer greeted
her, nor sign of movement. She caught up with the globe, dousing
its light by tucking it inside her cloak. She stood still,
searching the darkness.
'Rikbeek,' she
murmured, opening her cloak. 'Search for me.' She pictured Meesa
for him, offering an image made up of movement and sound. The
gwaystrel sneezed in protest, but stretched out his webby wings and
took flight.
Within a few
minutes she caught the faint sound of Rikbeek's signal. She walked
in the direction of his call, puzzled. He was using his warning
sound. How could that be?
'Stop pranking
me, you little beast,' she grumbled. 'Just because you didn't want
to be disturbed-'
She stopped
speaking. Her nose was registering a new scent: sharp, wrong. She
tensed, her heart suddenly thudding.
An inert, dark
shape lay on the darker ground. She released the light-globe, its
feeble glow lightening the gloom by a few shades.
Meesa lay among
the crushed remains of blooming milkleaf plants. She was barely
recognisable, her upturned face displaying long gashes running from
her temple to her chin. Deep wounds latticed the flesh, blood still
glistening wet and red in the low light. Her flesh was cleaved
through, glimpses of pale bone visible beneath the shredded
meat.
Eva clenched her
jaw against a desire to retch. She knelt resolutely, searching for
signs of life. Nothing.
It occurred to
her that the fresh wounds indicated a very recent demise. Was
Meesa's attacker still nearby? She leapt to her feet and tried to
listen, both with her ears and her summoner senses. Her heart
thumped wildly, rushing blood drowning other sounds, but she felt
the imprint of an alien beast's mind not far away. Too
close.
As Rikbeek crowed
and dived, Eva caught a glimpse of movement near the ground to her
right. Pale eyes gleamed coldly in the darkness. She backed away,
horrified, unable to look away from those icy orbs. Seconds passed.
Then the blue-lit eyes winked out, and the presence vanished. She
breathed, then turned, stumbling in her haste to reach the
house.
Numinar's
reaction was swift. He didn't wait to ask questions; he merely tore
outside, leaving Eva to follow at a slower pace. She stepped into
the street and accosted the first person she met, a young man who
she sent hurtling away to
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