The Eyes of God (30 page)
Authors: John Marco
“Figgis, if I agree to this they will call me mad. The chancellors already think me a lunatic. How can I tell them about magic amulets? It sounds like nonsense.”
Once more the librarian tapped his book. “It’s in the text, my lord. That’s all I need to know.”
“That’s not good enough. You said yourself you haven’t read the whole thing. Why can’t that book of yours be nothing more than a collection of lies? Why must it be the truth?”
“Because I’ve studied Jador, my lord,” argued Figgis. “And everything else I’ve read out of this book is true. It speaks of the kreel, and we already know they exist, and it talks about the city across the desert. That’s Jador, my lord. And Jador is no myth. Why should the amulets be the only thing the book lies about?”
Akeela couldn’t answer. Perhaps it was the drink, but he was starting to believe the old man’s fantasy. Like most Liirians, he knew almost nothing about Jador, just that it was far away and mysterious. And he had seen sorcery before, or at least a semblance of it. Koth’s streets were littered with fortune-tellers and rune-carvers. If they could do magic, why not the Jadori?
“If only it were so,” he whispered. “I would do anything to save Cassandra.”
Figgis seized the opportunity. “The amulets can save her, my lord. If they exist, she can live forever without disease, as young and beautiful as she is now. And you with her!”
“I have no wish to live forever, Figgis.”
The librarian shifted, looking down at his feet. Akeela raised a suspicious eyebrow.
“You’re not telling me something,” he said. “What are you hiding?”
Grinning, Figgis said, “My lord is perceptive.”
“Tell me,” Akeela demanded.
“Well, there is something else.” The librarian grimaced. “Something about a curse, my lord.”
For a moment Akeela thought he’d heard wrong, then he burst into bitter laughter. “A curse? You mean those bloody amulets are damned?”
“My lord, let me explain . . .”
“No, Figgis, don’t you see? A curse is just perfect, for I myself am cursed. Giant lizards, magic amulets, and now a curse! How fitting.”
“King Akeela, please,” said Figgis. “It’s not what you think.” He began running a finger along the page of the book, scanning it quickly. “Here it is,” he said, then began to translate the text. “The wearer of Inai ka Vala—the Eyes of God—shall not be looked at by human eyes. To do so breaks their power, inviting death.” Figgis looked up from the book. “That’s all it says.”
“And you don’t think that’s bad? Are you mad? Are we to be shut-ins, Cassandra and I? Never looked at with human eyes! How are we supposed to live like that?”
“But my lord, think for a moment. It can’t be that simple. Does the Kahan of Jador live alone, without his subjects laying eyes on him? Does his wife?” A sly smile crept over Figgis’ face. “Don’t you see? There’s got to be more to this story than what’s written in this book. If we go to Jador, we can find out the truth of the amulets, discover how they’re truly used.”
“Oh, yes,” drawled Akeela. “I’m beginning to see perfectly. You’re just dying to get to Jador, aren’t you? You said it yourself; you’ve known about these amulets for years. Now you have the perfect opportunity to seek them out, with me to fund your little excursion.”
Figgis’ smile melted away. “My lord is unjust if he thinks me so selfish. What I’m suggesting is for the good of the queen.”
“But you will accompany a party to Jador, won’t you?”
“Well, of course,” said Figgis stiffly. “I’m the only one that speaks even a smattering of the language. To not send me would be foolish.”
“How convenient,” smirked Akeela. He poured himself another glass of brandy, angry with himself for being duped. He hadn’t thought the librarian so ambitious. But he was also sincere; Akeela had learned that much about him. As he sipped his drink, he wondered about the amulets, their stupid curse, and how he could take them from Jador. Figgis watched him curiously, not interrupting his dark thoughts. After a long minute Akeela lowered his glass to the table.
“I love Cassandra very much,” he said. “I know we haven’t been married long, but she’s already the moon and stars to me. I can’t lose her, Figgis. If this tale of yours is some lie just to get yourself to Jador, I will hang your pelt from a wall.”
“It isn’t, my lord, I swear,” said Figgis. “This book says the Eyes of God exist, and I believe it. I’ll bring them back for you, if you’ll let me.” He looked pleadingly at Akeela. “Will you let me, my lord?”
For a moment Akeela couldn’t speak. All he could think of was Cassandra.
“I must be drunker than I thought,” he said. “Go. I give you leave for this mad mission, Figgis.”
The librarian’s face lit the room. “Well done, my lord. Thank you! But I’ll need men, and money and supplies. And I’ll have to leave as soon as possible. By week’s end, I’d say.”
“Get your things together quickly, and come to me for your finances. I’ll pay whatever you need.” Akeela leaned back in his chair, a wicked smile cracking his face. “And as for men, I know just who to send with you.”
15
A
t the crack of dawn, Lukien arrived at the stable and found Trager and Figgis waiting for him. His traveling companions had already packed and dressed for their long trek south, and the grooms had readied their mounts, three brawny stallions that would take them as far as Ganjor. Lionkeep was barely awake, and a mist rolled over the castle. The air was wet with must and hay. Still exhausted from a night of worry, Lukien entered the stable without a trace of a smile. Figgis, the old scholar, was rummaging through his saddlebags and mumbling to himself. He wore an unusual ensemble of mismatched riding garb and his customary wide-brimmed hat. Trager stood imperiously at the stable’s far end, looming over a stableboy and shouting.
t the crack of dawn, Lukien arrived at the stable and found Trager and Figgis waiting for him. His traveling companions had already packed and dressed for their long trek south, and the grooms had readied their mounts, three brawny stallions that would take them as far as Ganjor. Lionkeep was barely awake, and a mist rolled over the castle. The air was wet with must and hay. Still exhausted from a night of worry, Lukien entered the stable without a trace of a smile. Figgis, the old scholar, was rummaging through his saddlebags and mumbling to himself. He wore an unusual ensemble of mismatched riding garb and his customary wide-brimmed hat. Trager stood imperiously at the stable’s far end, looming over a stableboy and shouting.
“. . . and what did I tell you about packing my horse? Not too heavy, isn’t that what I said?”
The boy nodded. “You did, sir.”
“And didn’t I tell you we needed to be swift?”
“Yes, sir, you did.”
“So then what’s the use of all that garbage, eh?” Trager pointed accusingly at his horse. “He’ll be lame before we get out of Koth! Now unpack him and do it over. And leave off that cooking gear. I’m not going on a bloody picnic!”
Lukien tried to ignore Trager, but caught the lieutenant’s eye. There was an immediate iciness between them. Lukien strode toward his own horse. The stallion had been outfitted just as he’d ordered, with all the things Figgis had said they would need. A groom near the horse noted Lukien’s satisfaction and smiled.
“Good work, Gill,” said Lukien, rubbing the horse’s neck.
“He’s all ready,” said Gill. He shot a glance at his fellow groom, being berated by Trager. “But I guess you’ll have to wait before leaving.”
“Yes, about that . . .” Lukien turned to Trager. “What’s wrong with you, Lieutenant? I told you I wanted to get going at dawn. Stop wasting our time.”
“Me?” flared Trager. He pointed at the young groom, who was unpacking his horse. “It’s this waterhead! He packed my horse so heavy we’ll never make it to Jador.”
“He packed the damn horse just like I asked,” said Lukien miserably. He turned back to his own mount, cursing. Akeela still hadn’t told him why Trager was going with them. It seemed the worst choice for their impossible mission. Figgis was obvious, of course, but Trager would be an endless nuisance. Lukien began looking over his saddlebags. It had been days since Akeela had come to him with the fantastic story of the amulets, begging him to go on this quest for Cassandra. And Lukien had agreed willingly, because he would do anything for Cassandra and her illness had shattered him. But he still didn’t believe in their ridiculous mission. Over to one side, Figgis wore an excited smile as he surveyed his horse, checking off items on a square of paper. The librarian had worked day and night putting together their itinerary, but he didn’t look tired at all. His face glowed with a child’s exuberance.
“We’re ready, I think,” said Figgis. “We have everything—maps, food, gold for the trade caravans . . .” He nodded, satisfied with himself. “We’ve done a very good job. We’re well prepared.”
“I’m glad you think so,” said Lukien dryly. He returned to fussing with his horse, hoping Figgis would leave him alone. They had a long trip ahead of them, and if the old man was going to be talking through the whole thing . . .
Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. Cassandra was counting on him. He was her only hope now, and this mad mission might just save her. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—let his feelings interfere.
Yet still he brooded, for the whole thing smacked of folly. He wasn’t a thief, but that’s what Akeela was asking him to become. Somehow, they were supposed to steal these magic amulets from the Kahan and Kahana of Jador. Under the guise of friendship they would pose as emissaries, working their way into the kahan’s good graces. Then, if they could, they would steal the amulets and race back to Liiria. And all in time to save Cassandra.
Tired of waiting, Lukien went outside for some air. The dawn was creeping fast over the horizon. They were losing time, and Lukien was losing patience. He was about to slip back into the stable to hurry Trager when he saw Akeela approaching out of the mist. The young king’s expression was grave, the way it had been for weeks now. He wore a cape of crimson around his slight shoulders. Lukien’s black mood lifted slightly. He had hoped Akeela would come to see them off.
“Ho, Lukien,” called Akeela.
Lukien waved back. “So you decided to say good-bye, eh?”
Akeela stopped before him. He looked weary beyond words. His eyes betrayed a wildness that hadn’t always been there. “I’ve come to wish you luck,” he said. He peered into the stable and saw Trager and Figgis. “Looks like everything’s ready.”
“Everything but Trager. Why do you have that buffoon going with me, Akeela? He’ll only slow me down.”
“Because he’s a good soldier, believe it or not,” said Akeela. “And I need good men for this mission.”
Lukien said, “You need good men against Norvor. If there’s going to be battle, that’s where I should be, not traipsing around solving riddles.”
“Lukien, we’ve already settled this,” said Akeela. “If this quest is going to succeed, I need my best men on it. That’s you, like it or not.”
“But what about Norvor? If a fight comes, what will you do without me?”
Akeela laughed. “You’re not the only knight in the world, you know.”
“Akeela, I’m serious . . .”
“I can handle them.”
Lukien wasn’t satisfied, but he knew Akeela would brook no arguing. They had already agreed on this mission. A sadness overcame Lukien suddenly. Akeela was changing, rapidly and day by day.
“I’ll do my best, you know,” said Lukien, “but I can’t promise anything. Even if we find these amulets, it’s a long way back from Jador. We may not be quick enough.”
“Cassandra hasn’t much time, Lukien.”
Lukien nodded. “I know.” He couldn’t say any more. Akeela’s eyes bore down on him, as if they could see the shame eating his soul. Thankfully, Trager and Figgis emerged from the stable to end the awkward moment.
“We’re ready,” Trager pronounced. He looked at Akeela with a curious trace of scorn. “My lord.”
Akeela ignored him. “Do you have everything you need, Figgis? Can you think of anything more?”
Figgis shrugged. “No, my lord, I think we’re ready. We’ve mapped out our route and shouldn’t have too much trouble. First Farduke and Dreel, then on to Ganjor.”
“It would be fastest if you went through Nith,” Akeela observed.
“Maybe faster,” said Figgis with a grimace, “but more dangerous. They don’t care for strangers in Nith, my lord.”
“Going around Nith will waste time.”
“A bit of time, yes,” Figgis agreed, “but it’s better this way. We don’t want to bring too much attention to ourselves. And going around Nith will only lose us a day or so. Then we’ll go to Ganjor for drowas and a desert guide. That should get us to Jador in a month or so.”
“Just so you hurry,” said Akeela. “Remember the queen, all of you. She’s depending on you.”
Other books
Plagued: The Midamerica Zombie Half-Breed Experiment (Plagued States of America) by Better Hero Army
Her Hollywood Hitman: A Dark Romantic Suspense by Imani King
The Cowboy's E-Mail Order Bride by Seton, Cora
The Vengeance of the Vampire Bride by Rhiannon Frater
Skinner's Ordeal by Quintin Jardine
Exclusively Yours by Shannon Stacey
The Wilder Sisters by Jo-Ann Mapson
Playing the Whore by Melissa Gira Grant
Aventuras de tres rusos y tres ingleses en el África austral by Julio Verne
The White Family by Maggie Gee
