The Devil's Armour (Gollancz S.F.) (92 page)

‘It’s not locked,’ offered Van.

‘How could the horses have brought the coach up here by themselves?’ wondered Captain Aliston.

The question made Lukien’s jaw drop. He had the answer in an instant. Suddenly he knew it wasn’t Thorin’s head inside the box.

‘Magic,’ he declared. He looked dreadfully at Breck. ‘The magic inside the armour.’

Confused, Breck studied the box. ‘How’s that possible?’

‘It’s possible,’ said Mirage. ‘Believe me.’

‘Then what’s in the box?’ asked Aric Glass anxiously. ‘Sir Lukien, if it’s not from my father.’

‘You misunderstand me, boy,’ said Lukien. ‘It’s from your father, at least in a way. It was Onikil’s coach that brought it here, but it was your father that sent it.’

Breck nodded his agreement. He knelt down before the chest and undid the simple latch holding closed its metal lid. When the mechanism sprang he paused before opening it. He looked in the box for only an instant before turning away in disgust.

Count Onikil’s bloated, unmistakable face glared back at him, eyes bulging, tongue swollen and pulled out of his mouth. Through his tongue was a pointed metal rod, skewering a paper to the dead, red muscle. The women in the room shrieked when they saw it, hiding their children’s eyes and hurrying them out of the room. More than one of Breck’s men retched. Lukien stared at the head, horrified by it.

‘Onikil?’ he asked.

Breck nodded. ‘Yes.’ He reached into the box, pulled the spike from the tongue to release the note, then quickly closed the gory package. He read the note in silence, which only took him a moment. His face grave, he handed it to Lukien. ‘It’s for you,’ he said. ‘And it’s for all of us.’

With Mirage looking over his shoulder, Lukien read the shocking letter.

Tongues will wag, and traitors always suffer. Surrender the city or share the traitor’s fate
.

Two bold names ran along the bottom.

Jazana Carr, Queen of Norvor

Baron Thorin Glass

It was Thorin’s handwriting; Lukien recognised it easily. He had even signed Jazana’s name.

‘What does it mean?’ asked Mirage.

‘It means we’re too late,’ said Lukien. ‘It means I’m not going anywhere.’ He stared at Breck, who already seemed to understand everything.

‘It means,’ said Breck to his officers, ‘we have a fight on our hands.’

Gilwyn spent four days in Grimhold with White-Eye before finally leaving for Jador. He had done his best to explain himself to White-Eye, to convince her of the rightness of his plan, but she had remained unmoved throughout their time together and had wept when he’d left. After his promise to be her ‘eyes’, she could not understand why he was leaving for Liiria or why he believed he could reach Thorin, whom she was convinced was too deeply in the clutches of Kahldris for anyone to save. In truth, she had made Gilwyn doubt that he had any chance at all of saving Thorin, but she had not swayed his determination to try. He loved her too much, he explained, to let her fall prey to Kahldris again. If Lukien had failed to save Thorin, then the time had come for him to try.

Unhappily, Gilwyn left White-Eye, promising to see her again but completely unsure when that would be. Nor had his goodbye to Minikin been any better. Gilwyn could not tell what future she predicted for him, and if she had consulted with the Akari about his fate she did not reveal it. She simply looked sad, as if she doubted he would return.

Gilwyn rode back to Jador, not rushing as he had on the way to Grimhold. There was much on his mind, and he was not really eager to tell the Jadori the news of White-Eye’s blinding. Though most Jadori had never even met White-Eye, they all worshipped and adored her. She was their kahana, born of the great Kadar. They would not take the
news well, he knew, for they were still reeling from the battle with Prince Aztar.

During his first day back in the city, Gilwyn tended to his usual business. He was relieved to hear that no more Seekers had crossed the desert, but there were shortages of everything still, and life had yet to get back to normal. He told no one of his plans to leave for Liiria, not even his closest Jadori friends, though he could not hide from them what had happened to White-Eye – they were intensely curious from the moment he returned. The sad news travelled quickly, and by nightfall it seemed to Gilwyn that the whole city was in mourning.

That night, Gilwyn planned his departure. In the palace chamber that had once been Kadar’s, he watched the sun disappear from his balcony. The birdcage that had housed Salina’s doves had remained empty since the defeat of Aztar, and he wondered with melancholy what had become of their unseen benefactor. Lorn had mentioned briefly that she had helped him and his friends across the desert, but he had not spoken of her since he’d come to Jador and in truth seemed to know nothing about her at all. Gilwyn leaned out over the balcony, resting his elbows on the stone rail and his face in his hands. Leaving Jador meant leaving everything behind, he realised sadly. He had already decided to leave Teku behind, fearing for the safety of his furry friend on the long trek ahead. Emerald, too, would have to stay behind. Though the kreel would be invaluable in getting him to Ganjor, he would not be able to bring her north, and leaving her in Ganjor was impossible. He would have to take a horse across the desert or a drowa, neither of which appealed to him since he had barely ever ridden either. With Ruana’s help, he was sure he could manage, but it would not be easy with his lame foot and hand. He hoped his ‘gift’ would lend him greater control of a mount.

But it would not be like riding Emerald. There would be little bond between him and a drowa, Gilwyn knew, and no sense of kinship, either. It was a long and dangerous road to
Liiria, and he would be friendless. As he considered how alone he’d be, he realised that he was leaving everyone he cared about behind, not just White-Eye but all the Jadori he had come to love, and even the Seekers, so many of whom had given their lives defending the city. He began to wonder about the soundness of his plan. The prospects terrified him, but he was determined. Soon, he would leave Jador. And he would have to tell everyone that he was leaving, and endure their pleas to stay.

‘I want to stay,’ he sighed. Then he frowned. ‘But I can’t.’

He was a fool to try; they would all say so. But before he told anyone else, there was one man in particular he needed to see. Gilwyn pulled himself away from the balcony’s pretty view, mustered his courage, and left his palace chambers.

At the rear of the Jadori palace, overlooking the western mountains, stood a vibrant garden of lush plants and winding stone pathways. Because it was hidden from the rest of the city, the garden had always been remarkably peaceful, and the dead ruler Kahan Kadar had often opened the garden to his Jadori people, so that they might enjoy its green tranquility. Large enough to accommodate a mass of people, the garden remained a favourite place for lovers and playing children, though it was not nearly so crowded these days, when the deaths of so many had thinned Jador’s population. Yet the flowers still bloomed and the fountain still bubbled, and the many mosaics still caught the starlight in magical ways, just waiting for someone – anyone – to admire them.

Lorn admired beauty everywhere he found it. These days, things that cost nothing were all that was left to him, and he surprised himself by not minding at all. Lorn loved the palace garden, and tonight sat under the darkening sky with a pipe in his mouth, happily puffing while Eiriann bounced Poppy on her knee and her father Garthel slept in a nearby chair. He had spent the day at work digging wells – which
were always needed in arid Jador – and his back ached from the effort. There was always work to be done, it seemed, but the lack of leisure did not bother Lorn. In Jador, he was no longer a king and did not pretend to be. He was just another Seeker, waiting for a chance to knock on Grimhold’s door.

He took a deep pull from his pipe then let the smoke dribble slowly from his nostrils. Except for the four of them, the garden seemed empty. The view of the mountains mesmerised Lorn. He knew the mountains hid Grimhold, and that Grimhold hid the hope of Poppy’s salvation, but he was powerless to change what Minikin had told him, and so could only hope that time would soften the mistress’ heart to his daughter’s plight.

Yet she is fine
, thought Lorn as he looked at his daughter. A few yards away, Poppy crawled happily along the grass, feeling her way toward Eiriann.
She is happy here
.

Eiriann laughed and tickled the child’s nose, bringing delighted squeals from Poppy. Eiriann looked like a child herself, wholly contented now. She was happy here, too. Lorn watched her and grinned.

Because she has a child now
.

They loved each other, he and Eiriann. Lorn had confessed it, finally, and Eiriann had received the news with pleasure. He was many years older than she, but the same boundless faith that had brought her to Jador had made her forget his age and see only the good in him. There was very little good in him, Lorn knew, but somehow Eiriann always found it. He was glad they were building a life for themselves in Jador, and that Poppy had a mother again. Eiriann could never really replace Rinka, of course, nor would she try. She had told Lorn that his precious wife should be a happy memory for him, no matter how long she lay dead.

Good fortune has found me
, mused Lorn. True, he had lost a kingdom, but he had saved his daughter and that was enough.

For now
.

Lorn’s thoughts turned suddenly to Gilwyn Toms. Like everyone, he had heard about Gilwyn’s return, and had learned the bad news about the girl named White-Eye. He knew also that Gilwyn was very fond of White-Eye and that her blindness would be a blow to him. In the short time that he’d been in the palace, Lorn had come to respect the boy.

No
, Lorn corrected himself.
Not a boy. A man
.

Only a man could be regent of Jador. Lorn considered this as he puffed on his pipe. Gilwyn had impressed him. He had also been kind to them, generous enough to let them stay in the palace. Lorn laughed, supposing his defunct title was at least good for something.

A cry from Poppy roused Lorn from his ramblings. He sat up and watched as Eiriann lifted her into the air.

‘She’s dirty,’ declared Eiriann. ‘I’ll go change her.’

Lorn nodded, not wanting to wake Garthel. The baby’s cries did that instead.

‘What?’ croaked Garthel, his eyes fluttering open.

‘I’m going inside, Father,’ said Eiriann.

The old man coughed. ‘I’ll go with you.’

Lorn groaned unhappily. He wanted to stay, but not alone. ‘Sit, Garthel,’ he bade. ‘Sleep some more.’

‘Old men sleep ten minutes a day,’ Garthel quipped, ‘and I’ve just had mine.’

‘Stay if you want,’ said Eiriann to them both. She was about to say more when something behind Lorn caught her eye. ‘Look.’

Lorn turned and saw Gilwyn Toms approaching, unmistakable from his ungainly walk. He gave them each a smile, yet his expression seemed harried. Eiriann lowered her eyes a bit, an act of respect that made Gilwyn uncomfortable.

‘Good evening, Master Toms,’ she said. ‘We were just going inside . . .’

‘Wait, please,’ said Gilwyn. He looked at Lorn. ‘Can we talk a moment?’

Lorn nodded, enough of a gesture to dismiss Eiriann and her father, both of whom said polite goodbyes before departing. Gilwyn grimaced at their dismissal, which made Lorn grin. He was not at all used to giving orders, this young regent.

‘I was hoping you’d come,’ said Lorn. He pointed toward Garthel’s chair. ‘Sit.’

Gilwyn took the simple chair, pulling it closer to Lorn’s own so that they faced each other. The muscles of his young face drooped with fatigue.

‘You don’t look good at all,’ Lorn remarked. ‘I heard about your girl White-Eye. I am sorry.’ He waited for Gilwyn to settle back. ‘What happened?’

‘To White-Eye? It’s a long story,’ said Gilwyn. He shifted as though he was hiding something. ‘I’m not sure I can explain it. It’s about the Akari.’

Lorn nodded slightly, encouraging him to continue. He knew very little about the Akari, only what others had told him. It was the Akari that made magic possible here. Gilwyn searched for the right words.

‘You already know about Baron Glass and his armour,’ he said. ‘There’s an Akari in the armour named Kahldris.’