The Devil's Armour (Gollancz S.F.) (25 page)

‘Rahos,’ said Paxon. He held up two fingers. The woman nodded and disappeared into the crowd. Though Thorin knew very little Ganjeese, he knew that rahos wasn’t shrana. Rahos was a much harder drink, a clear alcohol often used to liven up a cup of shrana. Some drank it straight, though, like Paxon. Thorin had tried rahos twice before and hadn’t liked it, but he was suddenly in the mood for a hard drink. He didn’t say anything to Paxon while they waited for the woman to return, and the head of the Liirian Seekers offered nothing in return. The awkward silence was brief, however. The woman returned with two cups and an entire jug of rahos. Apparently, she knew Paxon’s drinking habits. The Liirian picked up the jug and poured a cupful of the stuff for each of them, then emptied his own cup quickly down his gullet before refilling. His eyes watered a bit but he didn’t cough at all.

‘It helps the pain,’ he explained. ‘I have a cancer, Baron Glass.’

‘I know,’ said Thorin. ‘I was told. I’m sorry for you.’

‘I came here thinking I’d find something better than liquor to aid me, but the real medicine is being kept from me. It’s being kept from all of us, Baron. I wonder how it is you can live with yourself.’

‘The power of Grimhold is not for me to give, my friend. To be truthful, I hardly understand it at all. But you must know this – Minikin does not withhold it from you maliciously.’

‘She would rather watch a man die? Or a crippled child wither?’ Paxon shook his head as he stared into his cup, as if the concept seemed unbelievable. ‘In Liiria the legend of this place grows. When the men came back from the war they told us of the miraculous things that went on here, and now I have seen these things for myself. The one called Ghost who makes himself disappear; he could make a
believer out of anyone! So there is magic here. We weren’t wrong. Not everyone believed, but we did. Others laughed at us but we came across the desert anyway.’ Finally, Paxon looked up from his drink. ‘Do you see why I’m so angry, Baron Glass?’

Thorin nodded with sympathy. ‘To have come so far . . . Truly, I am sorry for you, Paxon, and all the others. But you must realise – there is not the room for all of you in Grimhold. The magic you speak of is . . . well, it’s hard to understand. I don’t comprehend it myself, but I know you can’t just summon it. It must be given freely to a person. There are spirits in Grimhold, spirits that choose to work with people or heal them. You don’t know that because no one has told you anything. But it’s true.’

‘And is it not within the power of this Minikin to bestow such a spirit on a person? I have spoken to the people here, Baron Glass. They have told me it is the midget woman who grants these spirits and their magic.’

‘Bah, it is all babble you overhear. I tell you it is complicated.’ Thorin toyed with his drink but did not sip. ‘I have been here a year now, and still I do not understand things. I know only that Minikin has a good heart and suffers as you do, because she sees your plight.’ He pushed his drink aside with annoyance. ‘Paxon, I didn’t really come here to speak of Minikin.’

‘No,’ said Paxon, understanding. ‘You want to know about Liiria.’

‘That’s right.’

‘I’ll tell you anything you want to know, Baron Glass. Let’s see, where shall I start? Do you want to know about the warlords that have torn our country apart? Or about the lawlessness? I know of a child trampled by a horse in one of their battles. Should I tell you about him?’

The news made Thorin blanch. ‘As bad as that?’

‘The country has collapsed, Baron. Once we learned that King Akeela had died, it was chaos. He bankrupted us, did you know that?’

‘I had heard,’ said Thorin. ‘Go on.’

‘Well, there was no money for anything, and the army was broken, too. I don’t know how many men were killed here in the war. You’re more of an expert on that than I am, but those that survived didn’t all return to Liiria. Some did, though, and because General Trager was dead they had no one to follow, so they went to anyone who could pay them. Baron Ravel got most of them, I think. He had enough gold to keep them fed.’

Hearing Ravel’s name made Thorin’s blood curdle. The merchant-baron was a quiet but ambitious man, who had long fancied himself a man of war. Now it seemed he had bought the title others had rightfully earned.

‘I know Ravel,’ said Thorin. ‘To call him a dog would be a kindness. He hasn’t taken Koth, has he?’

‘Not by the time I left, but he has designs on the city, that’s certain. And I’ve been gone many weeks. Koth may be his now.’

The news was too much for Thorin. At once he took back his cup of rahos and drank, gulping the liquid thoughtlessly. It burned all the way down.

‘That is horrible news, Paxon. To imagine Ravel in charge of my beautiful city . . . It’s too much to bear.’

‘As I said, I’ve been gone from Koth for some time now, Baron. It may be that Ravel has defeated the library folk, or perhaps not. Perhaps they still hold on.’

‘Library folk? Who are they?’

Paxon looked peculiarly at Thorin. ‘They are the men in the library, the army that fights for Koth. Haven’t you heard of them?’

‘No, Paxon, I told you – I’m deaf and dumb here. Tell me who these men are.’

The Liirian shrugged. ‘I don’t really know them, to be honest. They’re soldiers mostly, men who didn’t side with Ravel or other warlords when they came back from the war. They’re loyal to King Akeela, or at least his memory.’

‘And they live in the library?’

‘It’s their fortress now. It’s on a great hill, overlooking the city. Even Lionkeep isn’t as good a position.’

The news was astonishing to Thorin. Suddenly he was full of questions. ‘They’re soldiers, you say? Royal Chargers, even?’

‘I think so. There aren’t many of them, but they’ve been rallying anyone they can to their banner for the defence of Koth. For the old ways, you might say. The man who leads them is an old-timer, too. A fellow named Breck.’

‘Sweet mother of Fate.’ Thorin leaned back as if struck by a stone. ‘Breck?’

‘That’s his name, I’m sure of it. You know him?’

‘I know him,’ said Thorin, remembering the man as clear as sunshine. It was Breck who had gone to Norvor with Gilwyn to take him away from Jazana Carr. After that he’d gone off with his family, leaving Koth to escape Akeela’s wrath while the rest of them fled across the desert. It boggled Thorin’s mind to think of Breck holed up in the library, defending Koth once again. ‘What a good man,’ he said with a smile. ‘Gods, what a hero.’

‘He may be a hero, but he doesn’t stand much of a chance,’ said Paxon. ‘He’s outmanned by Ravel’s army.’

‘I’ve seen Library Hill, my friend. A skilled group can hold off an army up there. Ravel will be no match for them, not at first. Ravel will have to wear them down, though I have to admit it won’t do Breck much good if no one comes to help him.’ Once again the agitation grew in Thorin. ‘What else do you know, Paxon? What have you heard of Jazana Carr?’

‘Ah, that one!’ Paxon shook his head ruefully. ‘She’s the one Breck should really worry about. Last I heard she had King Lorn on the run. It was just a matter of time before she conquered Norvor. She’s done it by now most likely.’

‘No . . .’

‘Oh yes, Baron Glass. Jazana Carr’s a wicked one, and she has the means to do whatever she wants. She has her own designs on Liiria, you know. They say even Ravel fears her,
because his army is no match for hers. If she wants Liiria, she’ll take it. And no one’s going to be able to stop her.’

A sickening lurch shook Thorin’s stomach. He looked down at the table, suffocated by a sense of utter helplessness. ‘So it’s too late,’ he muttered. ‘My family . . .’

Paxon frowned. ‘You have a family, Baron? You mean still in Liiria?’

‘Still in Koth, for all I know,’ replied Thorin. ‘I haven’t seen them in years. They’re all grown now. Or dead.’

The images of his family – as they had been years ago – flashed through his mind. His wife Romonde, his sons Aric and Nial, both boys when he’d left them. And of course there were his twin girls, perfectly the same like two shining pennies. For a moment he saw them clearly, and the memory was painful. He had been forced to leave them, all of them, sent to the Isle of Woe by Akeela to be eaten by cannibals. But he’d been saved by Lukien and Jazana Carr and he had never looked back. He had never even told his family he was still alive.

‘I don’t know,’ Thorin wondered aloud. ‘I don’t know what they think of me.’

Paxon was still staring at him. The Liirian had lost his sour expression and now looked wholly sympathetic. ‘It is a cruel thing to lose one’s family. I’m sorry for you, Baron Glass. You must miss them.’

Thorin thought about this, but was unsure how to answer. ‘I would miss them, if I knew how. I don’t even know what they look like now. I left them to keep them safe. I could never tell them I was alive because that would have put them in danger from Akeela. Ah, it’s a long story . . .’ Thorin found the jug of rahos and poured himself some more. He drank, trying not to be embarrassed by Paxon’s pity. ‘I owe them, that’s all. If Jazana Carr is on the move, then they are in danger.’

‘If they’re still in Liiria,’ said Paxon. ‘You say you don’t know where they are?’

‘Or even if they’re still alive.’ Thorin snickered blackly.
‘What a father and husband I am, eh? Bloody one-armed coward. Bloody useless.’

He finished his cup of rahos in one big gulp, then licked his lips.

‘Not much good I can do anybody here, though. And how can I get across the desert to help them, or help Breck? That cursed Aztar has us all sealed in here like insects in a jar.’

‘There’s nothing for you in Liiria anyway, Baron Glass,’ Paxon cautioned him. ‘There’s nothing left there for any of us.’

Thorin looked at him and grimaced. ‘No. No, you’re probably right.’

‘Our lives are here now. The others that came with me, they need a life, too.’ Paxon took hold of Thorin’s hand. ‘You must make Minikin understand that. If there’s any way for us to enter Mount Believer . . .’

‘I told you, there is no way.’

‘But if there is a way, any way, you must convince her. Will you do that for us, Baron Glass? Will you speak to the woman Minikin for us?’ Paxon sighed as if he knew the answer. ‘Or will you simply forget us?’

About to reach for his cup, Thorin stilled his hand. Suddenly he wanted no more of the liquor. ‘I will not forget you, Paxon. Or Liiria.’ He shoved aside his cup. ‘Thank you for the drink, and for the company,’ he said. Then he rose from the table and left the shrana house.

Outside, he felt his anger crest. Over the white wall he could see the palace of Jador and knew that Minikin was in there somewhere. He looked around and saw what was still a vibrant town, alive despite the hardships of isolation. But it was a Ganjeese town, a place for desert dwellers. It was not a world for Liirians. Liirians belonged up north, Baron Glass decided.

Liirians belonged in Liiria.

Gilwyn Toms stood at the edge of a rocky cliff, awestruck by the sight of the world far, far below. A warm wind blew across his face and hair, whistling in his ears like the voice of a lover. The sun was rising in the east, climbing ever upward, lighting the world with its infinite glow. He could feel the newness of it growing hot on his skin. To the north sat Jador, calm and silent, miniaturised by distance, looking perfectly serene as the day awoke. The great unceasing desert sprawled across the earth in every direction. At this height, it seemed to Gilwyn that nothing could reach him, not even sound. He had never been so high in his life but he had dreamed of it as a boy, climbing mountains his clubfoot would never let him traverse. Now, with Emerald’s help, his life had no such limits. The willing kreel had taken him and Minikin to this high mountain peak, bearing them both with stout-hearted effort into the thin air of the sky. The reason had been a mystery to Gilwyn but he hadn’t questioned Minikin. She had ordered it and he had obeyed, feeling the strangeness of sharing Emerald’s back for the first time. It was, apparently, a morning for firsts, because Minikin had not brought Trog with her either. Gilwyn had never seen the woman without her bodyguard before. But it was to be just her and him, she had explained. On the mountain together. As Gilwyn looked out over the world he called home, he stopped asking questions. Enchanted, he merely let the majesty of the desert unfold before him. Like
a picture book it opened, revealing secrets he had never known.