The Devil's Armour (Gollancz S.F.) (23 page)

‘Den and Gace, stay here, both of you,’ she told the brother soldiers. ‘Rodrik . . .’

Like a loyal dog Rodrik Varl followed her to the castle.
Having him so close gave her strength. She had never told him all that had gone on here. She wanted to tell him now, yet her voice had fled. And it seemed to Jazana that Rodrik somehow knew the sad tale anyhow. Suddenly, he was more than just a bodyguard or would-be lover – he was her only friend. The thought burrowed its way deep into Jazana’s mind. Here in this place she had had no friends. An only child with a dead mother. Servants who turned a blind eye to her misery. A father who knew no morality. These had been her teachers.

They came to the decimated fence. Jazana stopped her horse. The turret of the castle hovered over her. She got down slowly from her mount and briefly ran her hands over the smooth, moss-covered stones of the fence. Rodrik Varl dismounted and stood to her side, watching her. Jazana took a cautious step forward, entering the yard through a gap in the short wall. Rocks and weeds littered the ground. Field mice scattered as she approached, the only inhabitants the desolate keep had seen in ages. A breeze from the hills pulled at Jazana’s cape, making the shutters of the old keep screech. Jazana spotted a window, its glass still intact. Though clouded with spiderwebs and filth, she could almost see through it into the dining room where she always took her meals and her father always leered at her with expectant eyes.

Jazana stopped walking. She stared into the window. Then, without thinking, she reached into the dirt and picked up a handful of stones, hurling them at the window. When all of them missed, she cursed and scanned the earth for a bigger rock and, finding a perfect projectile, sent it hurtling toward the keep. The window shattered with a satisfying implosion of noise and glass. But Jazana didn’t stop. Hearing the noise snapped something inside her, and she picked up another rock and then another and more, hurling them again and again at the castle. Rodrik Varl watched in stunned silence as his mistress hissed and screamed as she continued her assault, snatching up every
rock she could until there was only dust at her feet. Finally, the rocks depleted, Jazana Carr fell to her knees and clutched at the dry earth. Her body shook with sobs. Unable to lift her head, she watched her tears fall to the ground. Her father’s face glared at her from across the years.

‘You heartless dragon,’ cried Jazana. ‘I’ve beaten you!’

At last she had beaten him. At last she had shown him what a daughter could do. Her broken heart pounded in her chest. She shook her head to stop the sobs but could not still them. In her hands she felt the poisoned earth of Haverthorn. She opened her fingers and let the wind take it from her palms. She remained on her knees for long moments, fighting to compose herself as Rodrik looked on helplessly. It had been so long since she’d known tears, and now they flooded her. The great hatred she had carried for decades was still inside her. She could feel it, gnawing at her bones. But it was different now.
She
was different now.

‘I’m queen,’ she sniffed. ‘Hear me, Father? Queen!’

The castle gave no answer. It just stood there, broken. Had she expected an answer? To feel differently? Jazana didn’t know. At last she felt a hand on her shoulder. Over her stood Rodrik Varl. She looked up and saw his eyes filled with pity.

‘My lady,’ he said softly. ‘Let’s go now.’

Jazana put her hand on his and nodded. ‘Let’s go home.’

The bodyguard smiled. ‘To Hanging Man.’

With a great effort Jazana Carr lifted herself to her feet. Smoothing down her garments, she walked as regally as she could back to her waiting horse. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘to Hanging Man. And then to Liiria.’

At the fence she turned and saw Rodrik staring at her. There was still pity on his face, but now there was disbelief as well.

‘I have only beaten one man, Rodrik,’ she explained. ‘There are others I must prove myself to, a whole world of them.’

When Rodrik said nothing Jazana turned away and saw Den and Gace in the distance, staring at her. She straightened herself, mounted her horse, and rode toward them, preparing herself for Hanging Man, the only real home she had ever known.

Upon hearing the news of the Seekers from Liiria, Baron Glass wanted to see them at once. But Minikin had only just returned to Grimhold, and was unwilling to make the trip back to Jador so quickly. Because Baron Glass could not easily travel alone, he was forced to be patient and wait for the little woman to get her fill of her Inhumans and her strange home while he plied Lukien with questions about the Liirians, questions the Bronze Knight was reluctant to answer. Thorin quickly learned that Lukien had deliberately spent little time with his former countrymen and was unable – or unwilling – to talk about them. So Thorin, already eager to see Gilwyn and put some distance between himself and Meriel, could barely wait to leave for Jador.

But wait he did. For two days he refused to push Minikin on the subject. She was a woman of few words and never argued – she simply told things as they were. What she told Baron Glass was that they would return to Jador within a week. Blessedly, it was far less than a week. After three days, Minikin told Baron Glass to prepare for the journey. They left for Jador at dawn the next morning.

Unfortunately for Thorin, they set out by kreel. Although he could still ride a horse with only one arm, he could do so only slowly and carefully, and so had never made the desert journey on his own. Rather, he shared one of the giant lizards with a Jadori warrior, a slight to his pride he had never gotten used to. Like every day in the desert, this one
started off cool but quickly turned blistering. In his long year in Grimhold, Thorin had only once seen the sky give rain and had almost forgotten what clouds looked like. Today the sky was impossibly blue. The flatlands shimmered with mirages. The distant hills seemed to grow no closer. Thorin knew the kreels would have them in Jador after sunset, and so he tried to relax during the journey, but his mind raced with questions he would pose to the Liirians. There were only five of them making the journey this time, and Lukien was not among them. For a reason Thorin couldn’t guess, Lukien had lapsed into another of his silences shortly after returning home, and showed no interest in returning to Jador right away.

‘Gilwyn will have you to protect him,’ the Bronze Knight had told Thorin. It was his way of making the old Baron feel useful. Thorin made no effort to convince his friend to join them. Lukien had shouldered more than his share of duties lately and needed the rest.

Besides himself, Minikin, and her bodyguard Trog, the others making the journey were all Jadori warriors. As such, they spoke very little during the crossing. Thorin had learned early that the desert folk expended precious little energy on words. They were never disrespectful or unfriendly; they were simply quiet. Like Trog, they said almost nothing at all. Minikin herself was quiet, too. Though she spoke from time to time with her bodyguard, she seldom turned to see how Thorin was doing, and even when they rested her conversation was curt. Baron Glass knew Minikin was worried. He did not need her vaunted mind powers to know what she was thinking – she didn’t want him speaking to the Seekers. She had warned him that they would only tell him things he could do nothing to change. But she had relented in the end, because she knew how important Liiria was to him and because there was simply nothing she could do to stop him.

Baron Glass had never grown close to Minikin, though he did respect her. She had a million problems plaguing her
these days and handled them all with steel and grace. But she had never come to him for counsel the way she had Lukien, and that bothered Baron Glass, fuelling his feelings of uselessness. He would be grateful when they reached Jador, he decided. Then he would see Gilwyn and have some friendly talk.

As expected, they reached the city well after nightfall. The place was awash in moonlight, looking splendid and white. They came through the western gate of the city, which had always been unguarded until Akeela’s army had come. Now, because of Prince Aztar’s raiders, there were still Jadori warriors patrolling the wall. When they saw Ela-daz they opened the gate immediately, giving her entrance to the city. Minikin greeted them warmly, and a pair of the dark-skinned men stepped forward at once, volunteering to escort her to the palace, which was easily seen in the clear night, towering above the rest of Jador, its minarets reflecting moonlight like cut gems. They were all exhausted from the trip, but the thought of seeing Gilwyn buoyed them, particularly Thorin. It had been weeks since he had seen the young man.

Because it was not yet late, Jador’s streets remained full of people. As always, the Jadori welcomed Ela-daz with waves and calls of adoration, offering smiles to Baron Glass as well. Thorin nodded and waved, acknowledging their praise even as it embarrassed him. He was not such a hero as Lukien, whom the Jadori seemed to worship, but he could feel that their respect for him was genuine. The group did not dismount, however, or spend much time with the people. Instead they pressed on to the palace, where they were sure Gilwyn would be waiting for them.

Indeed, the young regent did not disappoint them. It was always impossible to keep news of Minikin’s arrival contained, and so Gilwyn greeted them in the palace’s ornate garden with a huge smile on his face. He looked weary but undeniably happy to see them, and when their kreels sauntered into the garden he rushed forward.

‘Thorin!’ he exclaimed. ‘I knew you’d come!’ Then he produced a wide grin for Minikin. ‘And Minikin. I’ve been waiting for you!’

Minikin let Gilwyn help her down from the kreel. ‘It’s not been so long, Gilwyn. I told you – patience is a good thing for a regent.’

‘You left me wondering, and you know it,’ said Gilwyn. ‘I’m ready to learn.’

‘And I’m ready for some rest,’ said Minikin, stretching her little body. She shook out her long white hair, then nodded at the waiting Gilwyn. ‘I know you’ve been waiting. I promise you – we will talk. But let us rest a bit first, hmm?’

‘And eat,’ said Baron Glass. Eager to be down from his mount, he slid off the reptile’s back after the Jadori rider, who gave him a steadying hand. ‘We feasted on dried bread and fruit all day, if you can call that a feast. Let’s have some wine and meat, all of us.’ He inspected Gilwyn carefully. ‘Have you eaten, boy? You look like one of my saddle sores.’

Gilwyn sighed wearily. ‘No, I’ve been busy tonight talking with some of the warriors.’

Minikin raised an eyebrow. ‘About the kreel again?’

‘Minikin, they’re all worried,’ said Gilwyn. ‘If we don’t find more we won’t be able to defend ourselves.’

‘Kreel breed in their own time, Gilwyn,’ said Minikin. ‘The Jadori know that.’

Baron Glass reached out and tousled Gilwyn’s hair. ‘That big brain of yours needs food, boy.’

‘We’ll go in and get a meal,’ said Gilwyn, then suddenly frowned. ‘No Lukien?’

‘I’m afraid not, Gilwyn, not this time,’ said Minikin gently. ‘Lukien needs some time to himself, I think.’

‘He’s all right, isn’t he?’

‘He’s fine,’ replied Thorin. ‘He’s just troubled about what happened, killing those raiders. We never think it bothers Lukien to kill, but it does.’

Gilwyn nodded. ‘I know. I’m glad he didn’t come. He’s
been patrolling too much lately. Which is why we need more kreel, Minikin. Having Lukien helps, but even he’s not going to be enough if Aztar ever really attacks us.’

Minikin smiled. ‘Let us go inside now.’

‘Minikin, we need to talk about this . . .’

But the mistress was already making her way through the garden, her bodyguard Trog close on her heels. A sour expression crossed Gilwyn’s face as he watched her go.

‘She doesn’t listen to me,’ he grumbled. ‘Some regent I am.’

Thorin was quick to offer support. ‘That’s not it, Gilwyn. She’s got a lot on her mind, just as you do. And it’s been a long ride. She’s tired.’

The explanation appeased Gilwyn. With a boy’s enthusiasm, he asked, ‘Did you hear, Thorin? Minikin’s come back to teach me about my Akari. Finally, I’m going to find out about her.’

‘I know, and I’m pleased for you,’ said Thorin. He put his arm around Gilwyn as he led him back toward the palace. ‘It’s a great mystery to me, this Akari business. If it makes you happy, fine. Me, I’ll never understand it, or how a spirit could ever speak to someone.’

He volunteered nothing of his encounter with Kahldris, or how the dead Akari had spoken to him in his bedroom. He merely left the garden with Gilwyn, eager for food and answers about the Liirian Seekers.