The Devil's Armour (Gollancz S.F.) (47 page)

‘Of course, Sir Breck, but my men—’

‘Your men will be reassigned as needed,’ said Breck. ‘So will you. Most of them will still report to you, don’t worry. I have need of good commanders. But you’ll report directly to me. You’ll do what I say. Do you understand?’

Nevins gave no argument. ‘I understand.’

‘Good.’ Breck seemed relieved, even pleased by the man’s acquiescence. ‘Then you and your men are welcome here.
You’ve given us a fighting chance, Major. With your men and mine, we might just be able to hold off Jazana Carr.’

Nevins and Aliston gave each other doubtful glances. Nevins replied, ‘That’s a tall task, Sir Breck.’

‘Aye, but a worthwhile one. Your colonel thought so.’

‘He did,’ said Aliston. ‘If he were here now he’d say the same thing.’

‘Then rest,’ said Breck, ‘and when you’re ready bring all your men to the library. We’ll find lodging for them if we can, if not on the hill then in some of the nearby homes. Aric, get a detail together to see to it.’

Aric Glass, who’d been sitting silently the whole time, affirmed the order before leaving the room. Breck was about to rise himself when Lorn interrupted.

‘Wait,’ he said, getting out of his chair. ‘Breck, there’s other questions that need asking.’

‘Not now. There’s time yet for that.’

‘No, there’s no time. Not for me.’ Lorn went to stand before the two former mercenaries, who looked up at him from the table with suspicion. ‘We need to find out everything they know.’

‘And we will,’ warned Breck, ‘just as soon as they’ve rested. In the morning you can talk to them.’

‘That’s not good enough. I have a decision—’

‘Excuse me,’ Breck interrupted, ‘but we are done here.’ His eyes became like burning coals. ‘In the morning. All right?’

Nevins and Aliston watched Lorn curiously. So did Van and the other officers. For a moment Lorn remained still, refusing to yield, but noting Breck’s seriousness he nodded.

‘Very well.’

Nevins’ eyes sharpened on him. ‘You have the accent of a Norvan, sir.’

‘That’s a high royal tongue you detect, sir,’ replied Lorn. ‘And you and I have business to attend to on the morrow. Excuse me, now . . .’

Furious, Lorn turned and left the chamber without
waiting for Breck to dismiss him. He was still a king, despite the loss of his throne, and having his wishes curtailed irked him. There wasn’t time to wait until tomorrow. By tomorrow he needed to decide.

Outside the chamber he paused in what was once a grand hall, now bland and stripped of finery. His mind was on fire with questions. The news Nevins had delivered was awesome. To Lorn, it changed everything. Finally, he had another chance to battle Jazana Carr. And not with treacherous men, either, but with stout-hearted defenders of their own homes. Men who would die before betraying their country. Lorn leaned against the stone wall of the hall to organise his thoughts. He could hear Breck and the others murmuring in the meeting chamber, but otherwise the hall was quiet. What would he tell Eiriann, he wondered? She had such faith in him . . .

‘Lorn,’ called a voice. It was Van, coming down the hallway alone. ‘Guess what they’re talking about in there?’ he asked.

‘I know. I made an ass of myself. What are you doing here?’

‘I left so I could talk to you.’

‘About what?’

‘About what you’re thinking. I know you well enough to read that look on your face. I’m here to talk you out of staying.’

Lorn smirked at his companion. ‘You’re very clever. But I have to stay now. Didn’t you hear what those two said in there? Jazana Carr is in Liiria. This is my chance.’

‘No,’ said Van. ‘This is your chance to do something right for a change. Eiriann and the other Believers need you. Poppy needs you. If you stay here and fight you’ll lose that chance and Poppy will die with the rest of us.’

‘Gods, this is agonising! Why can’t I make any of you understand? I have to fight Jazana Carr! She took my country, she took my manhood, she took everything from me!’

‘Did she take your brains as well? You fled with Poppy to protect her, didn’t you? How do you think she’ll fare in a siege?’

‘But we can win this time . . .’

‘Stop, now. You saw Nevins’ face. You know what we’re up against. If you stay here you’ll be killed, and Poppy with you.’ Van shook his head with a sneer. ‘But that’s all right with you, isn’t it? You’ll risk that little girl just to get one more chance at Norvor. You’re a greedy old reptile, Lorn.’

‘Don’t talk to me,’ Lorn hissed. He turned his back on Van and started down the hallway.

‘You know I’m right!’ Van called.

The taunt echoed after Lorn, chasing him down the hall. He did his best to ignore it, flipping an obscene gesture over his shoulder before losing Van around a bend. He was glad his friend didn’t pursue him; his argument was pointless. It was impossible to ask him to go now, when Jazana Carr was so close.

‘Ask me to stop being a man,’ Lorn growled as he prowled through the library. ‘Ask me to give up everything. For what? Damn fool.’

His decision made, he knew that now was the time to break the news to Eiriann. She would no doubt wail and weep like a woman, but he would be steeled for that and have none of her sobs.

‘She will not manipulate
me
,’ he vowed. ‘Not with a flood of tears.’

It no longer mattered to him that Eiriann had grown so attached to Poppy, or that he had shamelessly used her to look after the infant. Guilt was the emotion of weaker men. He would battle it now, he decided, while his determination remained. He left the hallway and exited the library. From the main door of the place he pointed himself to the yards where the women worked, mending and washing clothes. Eiriann always took Poppy with her during chores, constantly protecting her from harm. There were other children under her care, too, but Poppy was special to
Eiriann and so got special attention, never wanting for affection or milk. As he’d hoped, Lorn found Eiriann in the south yard with some of the other Believers, two women and a man whose name he didn’t know. The man sat on a stool tanning tack leather. The two women had carried a spindle outside and were convivially spinning thread in the sunlight. Eiriann, however, was not so hard at work. Lorn halted mid-stride.

She was cross-legged on the grass, her face brightly lit by the sun. Around her sat a dozen children of various ages, enraptured. She was singing, and in her lap was Poppy, lying there still, obliviously deaf to the beautiful sounds coming from Eiriann’s mouth. The children smiled and sang along with Eiriann’s pure voice. Lorn listened, heard the lovely music, saw his daughter lying still and dumb in the woman’s lap, and was enraged.

‘Stop!’ he cried. ‘Stop singing!’

He hurried over to the huddle, frightening and scattering the children. Eiriann looked up at him in shock.

‘What?’

‘Stop singing,’ Lorn demanded, hovering over her. The others stared at him in disbelief. He ignored them and pointed down at Poppy. ‘Fate’s sake, girl, what’s wrong with you? She can’t even hear you!’

Eiriann’s face fell. ‘I know that. I—’

‘What’s this?’ said the man on the stool. Angry, he hobbled over to them. ‘Listen here, brute, don’t yell at her.’

‘Stay out of this,’ Lorn snapped. ‘Eiriann, Poppy can’t hear a word you sing. How dare you have those other children around her, laughing at her!’

‘What?’ the girl erupted. ‘You idiot, Poppy likes it!’

‘She can’t even hear it!’

‘She can feel it! Here . . .’

Eiriann clutched the baby close to her again, tight against her abdomen, and began to sing.

‘Stop it!’ Lorn ordered.

But Eiriann did not stop. She looked right at Lorn and
kept on singing, making that beautiful voice trill from her core, urging Lorn to look down at Poppy. At last he did so and noticed the girl’s remarkable smile. Each breath Eiriann took, every small vibration of her body, curled Poppy’s lips in a contented smile.

Lorn stood, frozen to the ground. He could not bring himself to look at Eiriann or the man who’d sprung to her defence. All he could do was watch his daughter smiling – and hate himself. Eiriann went on singing. Her face was placid again; all her anger had fled. She smiled at Lorn as she sang, but he could not return the gesture. The man backed slowly away, rejoining the others. The children inched a little closer. Ashamed, Lorn clenched his teeth and stared at his daughter.

When Eiriann finished her song, she stood and held Poppy out for him. ‘Don’t be angry,’ she said gently. ‘You see? She likes it.’

Lorn took his daughter and cradled her. He looked into Eiriann’s magnificent eyes and saw undeserved forgiveness there.

‘You were with those men from Andola,’ she said.

Lorn nodded. ‘Yes. It doesn’t matter though.’

‘No?’ asked the girl hopefully.

‘No, and don’t pester me about it, girl. You need me, all of you. There’s no way you’d make it across the desert without me.’

Eiriann’s face lit with joy. ‘You’re right. We do need you.’

‘That’s it, then,’ said Lorn flatly. ‘Two days, right? We’ll be ready.’

‘Two days,’ said Eiriann.

Her smile embarrassed him. Turning away, King Lorn the Wicked walked out of the yard without looking back, still cradling his happy child.

Meriel had never gotten used to the desert. In all her time in Grimhold, she had feared it. The desert was a place of endless quiet, where a single thought could echo forever in a person’s mind. For Meriel, there was a thought that rattled endlessly around her brain. She was alone in Grimhold and lonely, and longed to escape the peace of the place, to return into the normal human world where the day-to-day scratch for survival would make her forget her many demons.

Meriel watched the desert from her private place on the outcrop of rock. The sands were always shifting but never seemed to bring change. Alone and covered in the garments that hid her face and hands, Meriel waited patiently. Today was not just a day like any other. Today Minikin would return. The little mistress had been gone from Grimhold for more than a week. It was said among the Inhumans that she had gone to train Gilwyn Toms in the use of his Akari, and there was great excitement among her peers about this, for all of them knew and adored Gilwyn Toms and wanted him to be be truly one of them at last. White-Eye, the kahana, had spoken of little else of late, and though Meriel mostly shunned the kahana she could not help but hear the news. Like herself, White-Eye waited for Minikin to return. Gilwyn Toms had been gone from Grimhold for months now, busy with the work of the city’s reconstruction. Meriel
pitied the blind kahana. She knew too well what it meant to love a man and yet have him kept away.

Lukien, too, was gone from Grimhold. Like Minikin, he had gone to Jador. Prince Aztar’s raiders continued to harass the Seekers coming across the desert and Lukien was needed there, certainly more than he was in Grimhold. Meriel missed him. She missed his kindness and the way he insisted she show her face around him, as though her hideous burns meant nothing. Not even Baron Glass was so kind to her, though he was a trusted friend and had confessed his own love for her. Lately Thorin had little time for her, and Meriel was grateful for that. She had not wanted to hurt Thorin or rebuke his love. But he was quiet now and had not come to her in many days, not since returning himself from Jador. Meriel wondered what bad news had befallen the baron. In Jador he had met with the Liirian Seekers and had been surly ever since.

He broods
, thought Meriel.
He wants to return to the world
.

They had that much in common, at least. But Thorin was old. A good man, certainly, but he could have been a grandfather.

Meriel cleared her mind with a deep breath. It made no sense to worry about Thorin now. She had made a decision, and if Minikin granted her request she would not need Thorin.

Out on the rock the heat of the sun roasted her. She called on Sarlvarian to ease the pain, but the Akari ignored her. He was there, inside her, like a tremor beneath her consciousness, but he no longer rose to speak or comfort her. She had hurt him. She had not been able to keep her plans from him, for they were one in the way that Inhumans and Akari always become one. She had no secrets from Sarlvarian.