The Devil's armour

11

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.

‘It’s so beautiful,’ he said softly. Besides Jador, he saw the ranges of the far-off mountains, their jagged peaks fuzzy and obscure. He could see the wind blowing the sands in great arcs of living sculpture, the same way it moves the clouds slowly across the sky. It was, he decided, too beautiful to describe, and he fell instead into a contemplative silence, pleased and excited and sure that his life was about to change. Behind him, Minikin stood back and let him enjoy the moment alone. She wore her magic coat of many colours and kept her hands clasped over her flat belly. She was not a witch, but the way the wind blew her long white hair made her look like one. Gilwyn turned to study her. He wanted to speak but didn’t know what to say. Emerald rested some yards away. The kreel’s expression held disinterest, but Gilwyn could feel the beast’s underlying concern. All the way up the mountain, he had sensed Emerald’s confusion.

‘It feels like we’re all alone up here,’ said Gilwyn at last. ‘Like we’re the only two people in the world.’

‘Our world yet sleeps,’ answered Minikin. ‘Listen to that silence. Even the scorpions are still.’

It was true, and it unnerved young Gilwyn. Today was the day he had long awaited, when at last Minikin would teach him of his Akari. Why had she brought him to such a desolate place?

‘To be alone and undisturbed,’ the mistress answered. ‘To clear your mind. To spend a day in the bosom of heaven. To get closer to the angels.’

As she spoke she kept her grey eyes on Gilwyn, and he could feel her powerful mind probing his own. How effortless it was for her to crawl into another’s skull. Would she gift him with these powers? The blood raced through Gilwyn’s vessels.

‘I want to learn,’ he said. ‘I’m ready.’

Minikin smiled. ‘You’ve waited a long time. You’ve been patient, and I’m glad for it. Our lives have been difficult here. Things have been thrust on you that you never could have expected, Gilwyn, and I have been too busy to watch you. When I first told you about Ruana I asked you to be patient. Do you remember that?’

‘Of course,’ replied Gilwyn. It was impossible to forget that first day he had learned about Minikin and the Inhumans. ‘I think of it every day.’

‘I marked you when you were a baby and made you one of us. You’ve had a year to think about that. Tell me true — have you ever regretted that?’

It made no sense to lie to Minikin, so Gilwyn told her what was in his heart. ‘Never. I feel at peace here, Minikin, like I belong with the Inhumans. And I love White-Eye. If you hadn’t marked me, I would never have met her.’

The answer pleased the little lady. Her smile held a great fondness. She went to Gilwyn and looked out over the desert valley. So tiny was she next to him that Gilwyn had to gaze down to see her face.

‘There is so much in this world to see and try to understand. Your mentor Figgis was a man of science, but he had an open mind, yes?’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Gilwyn. ‘He believed in Grimhold before anyone else did. He was able to convince King Akeela about it.’

‘Hmm, well, we shall forgive him that,’ said Minikin. ‘But it is true that learned men do not often believe in the things they cannot see or hold in their hands. In Liiria they believe in the Fate and other deities because they must, because they are desperate to believe and would drink sand if they were told it was water. But outside of these orthodoxies they do not believe. Or they fear.’ The little mistress looked up at Gilwyn. ‘But you are not like that, Gilwyn, and you have never been. You are a dreamer. That’s a good thing to be.’

Gilwyn grinned. ‘I’m always full of questions, Minikin. Even Figgis used to say that.’

‘And now you have questions for me, yes?’

Gilwyn nodded.

‘All right, then,’ said Minikin cheerfully. ‘Let us get you answers.’ She surprised Gilwyn by taking his hand. ‘Walk with me.’

Letting the tiny woman guide him, Gilwyn stepped away from the edge of the cliff, walking with Minikin to the clearing where Emerald rested. There were large stones with smooth surfaces for sitting, obviously used for dozens of years. There were markings on the rocks, too, scratches that had been made over the decades by people unknown to Gilwyn, yet he was sure they had been pupils of Minikin. A towering outcrop of rock blocked the worst of the wind. Minikin let go of Gilwyn’s hand and bade him to sit. He did so, setting himself down on one of the smooth rocks, finding it surprisingly comfortable. Minikin remained standing.

‘You have guessed that I have taken people here for many years,’ she said. ‘You are right. This place is holy to me. From here we can see all of Jador, and almost get a hint of Grimhold, too.’ It was rare to see melancholy on Minikin’s face, but Gilwyn saw it now. ‘Kadar was the one who showed me this place. We sealed our pact right here among these rocks.’

The pact, Gilwyn knew, was the one between Grimhold and Jador. It was a bond that had lasted generations, and when he realised he was sitting in the place of its genesis Gilwyn shivered.

‘It was the perfect place to create something sacred,’ Minikin went on. ‘Kadar and I both knew it. Ever since then I’ve been bringing people up here. People like you, Gilwyn. Inhumans who are special, who have gifts.’

‘Gifts. You keep mentioning that word, Minikin. To be honest, it scares me. Do all the Inhumans have gifts?’

‘No, not all. Some of the strongest Inhumans have no gifts at all, only the aid of the Akari. The Akari make them strong, let them see or hear or walk, but that’s not a gift. A true gift is more than that. It’s not something an Akari can give you. It has to come from within.’

Gilwyn still wasn’t understanding, though he tried gamely. ‘Does Trog have a gift?’

‘No,’ said Minikin. ‘His Akari helps him to hear and comprehend, but that’s all. But Meriel has a gift. She has fire deep within her, deep in her skin and deep in her soul. The fire burned her, but it also became part of her. That’s the special element that makes a true gift. Fire is something uniquely part of her, something that changed her life forever and made her what she is today.’

‘And I have a gift?’ The notion perplexed Gilwyn. He glanced down at his clubbed hand. ‘Because I’m like this?’

Minikin at last sat herself down on the rock opposite him. Her coat fell open and the amulet at her chest — the Eye of God — pulsed red with life. Her elfin face was inscrutable in the light of the gem.

‘I’ve watched you closely this past year, Gilwyn. You may think other things have distracted me, but I have not ignored you. I know how badly you’ve wanted to see Ruana. And I have waited because you needed to grow, to show me who you really are, and what you can do. If a person has a gift, it must be nurtured. To do anything less would be unforgivable. You have seen how I take children to Grimhold, yes?’

‘Yes,’ said Gilwyn. ‘Because they’re more willing to believe.’

‘Precisely. But children so young do not yet have these gifts I speak of. They have not yet had the time to develop or experience. They have open minds, but it is only adults that have gifts. Like Meriel and Ghost. They were not children when I found them, but they were special. As you are special.’

‘How am I special, Minikin?’

‘Ah, that is the question I have asked myself! How might you be gifted? You are not burned like Meriel or albino like Ghost. What would your gift be?’

‘I’ve been crippled like this all my life,’ Gilwyn offered. ‘Shouldn’t that be my gift? To be able to walk normally, without this boot Figgis made me?’

‘Is that what you assumed?’ asked Minikin. ‘That your Akari would help you walk normally?’

‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘I’ve never run a day in my life. When I was a boy and saw others running and jumping, all I wished was to be like them.’

‘But you’re older now, Gilwyn. You’re no longer a boy. Do you still wish to run and climb trees?’

Was she mocking him? Gilwyn nodded sheepishly. ‘I’ve seen Inhumans like Monster,’ he said. ‘He’s much worse than me, and he can run and do all sorts of things. His Akari gave him grace.’

The little woman leaned back, her brow furrowing. ‘It can be like that for you, too, if that’s what you wish. Ruana has the power. She can make your foot work like it was never bent. But your boot can already do that for you, Gilwyn. Not as well as Ruana, I admit, but you walk fine and here in Jador no one judges you for limping.’

‘I know,’ said Gilwyn. He shrugged. ‘So what is my gift, then?’

Minikin’s smile was mischievous. She said simply, ‘Teku.’

‘Teku?’

‘Teku, Gilwyn. She is the kernel of your gift.’

Gilwyn was dumbfounded. ‘I don’t understand. Teku’s a monkey.’

‘Yes, and she has been with you for many years. She’s become a part of you, more of a part than I think you realise.’ The little woman leaned forward. ‘Let me ask you something. Have you not noticed your abilities with the kreel, Gilwyn?’

‘The kreel?’ Gilwyn thought for a moment. ‘You mean that I can command them?’

Just then, as if she were summoned, Emerald raised her head. The reptile blinked at Gilwyn, her eyes knowing. The gesture confused Gilwyn even more.

‘All the Jadori warriors can command the kreel, Minikin.’

‘Yes, but you are not a Jadori warrior. You’re a northerner, Gilwyn, from nowhere near Jador and without a drop of Jadori blood in your veins.’

‘So?’

‘So, that is very odd, Gilwyn.’ Minikin pointed at Emerald. ‘Look at the way the beast stares at you. It knows what you’re thinking, and you it. I have never seen such a thing happen with foreigners like us. This thing you do — it is a trait of desert people. Or it is a gift.’

The words surprised Gilwyn, who glanced between Minikin and Emerald in confusion. It was true that he and the kreel had bonded superbly, but he had always thought it more a matter of Emerald’s ability, not his own. In that moment he shared a thought with the creature, receiving a powerful message of friendship.

‘She is just a part of me,’ said Gilwyn. ‘It’s not something I can explain. I hardly have to work at it to understand her.’

‘Indeed,’ noted Minikin. ‘And that is not common either. Even the best Jadori warriors take years to form such bonds with their kreel. But not you, Gilwyn. You speak of it as if it were as easy as talking to me. It is that easy for you?’

‘Yes, mostly,’ admitted Gilwyn. ‘But what does Teku have to do with it?’

‘Teku has been part of you for years,’ said Minikin. ‘Just like the fire that burned Meriel. And you have made a bond with the monkey. In the time when you were the most vulnerable, when your body and brain were going through a burst of growth, Teku was given to you and became part of your life. Part of you, really. You were adolescent when Teku was given to you, yes?’

‘Yes, that’s right.’

‘And Meriel was an adolescent when she was burned. Oh, those are years of such turmoil, such growth! It’s the time when gifts are made.’ Minikin got up from her rock and stood before Gilwyn. ‘Without any trouble at all, you can read this kreel’s mind. Think how amazing that is, Gilwyn. I can’t do it, and I can do many things. And if you tried hard enough, I bet you could read the mind of that monkey of yours.’

‘Minikin, what are you saying?’ Gilwyn got up and loomed over her. ‘That my gift is to read the minds of animals?’

Minikin laughed. ‘Nothing as silly as that, Gilwyn! No, it’s more. There are no warriors that can command the kreel as you can. You will be a master of these creatures, without peer. There is no question about that. With training and time — and the help of your Akari — there will be no kreel that will not obey you.’ The little woman paused. ‘Do you know what that means?’

‘I’m afraid to ask!’

‘It means that White-Eye chose well when she made you regent, for there will be no equal to you. The kreel are the soul of the Jadori. To command them means to rule this place.’

The claim left Gilwyn stunned. He sat himself back down on his rock and stared uneasily. ‘Minikin, I. . I don’t want to be a ruler. If that’s what this gift means. .’

‘There is more,’ said Minikin. ‘Maybe much more. Your power over the kreel may be just the beginning. I do not know yet, but this gift may extend to other creatures as well.’

‘You mean Teku?’

‘Not just Teku, Gilwyn. Maybe any creature.’ Then Minikin shrugged. ‘And maybe not. I cannot tell yet. It will take time for this to develop, and you will need Ruana’s help.’

The thought of his Akari spirit guiding him through the minds of monkeys and lizards made Gilwyn spin. ‘How could that be?’ he asked. He looked at Emerald, and the connection between them was instant. He could feel it coursing through him like warm water. For the first time, it frightened him. ‘Minikin, I don’t want this,’ he said. ‘I just wanted to walk like a normal person. If this gift means all you say it does, then I refuse it.’

The mistress looked contemplative. ‘You can do that if you wish. But this decision is a heavy one, and should not be made quickly. Every road we choose in life has consequences, Gilwyn. This one especially.’

‘Of course,’ groaned Gilwyn. ‘I should have known. Tell me.’

‘I don’t need to remind you of the danger Jador faces. You have been pestering me about the kreel, telling me we need more of them.’

‘We do,’ Gilwyn insisted.

‘And I’m not arguing with you. You’re right — Jador is at great risk. Without more kreel to defend the city, Prince Aztar might well overrun it. But what are we to do? There are places where more kreel live, but bringing them here may not be possible. They will not follow a normal warrior. Not even Kadar could have commanded so many kreel, and he was powerful with them.’

Finally, Gilwyn began to understand. The realisation made him blanch. ‘You mean me, don’t you?’

Minikin nodded. ‘There is a valley where there are kreel by the hundreds. It’s very far from here, and the trip would be dangerous. But even if you reached the valley it would be for nothing unless your gift was nurtured. Only then could you shepherd the beasts back here to Jador.’

‘But why me? Why not just send all the warriors we can to the valley? They can ride the kreel back themselves.’

‘That might work, but think for a moment. What would happen to Jador if all her warriors were to leave?’

Gilwyn sank back against his rock. The logic was inescapable. ‘The city would be vulnerable.’

‘Exactly.’ This time Minikin went to sit beside Gilwyn. Once again she took his hand. Gilwyn marvelled at its smallness. The lady said, ‘It’s a burden, I know. I’m sorry to lay it on your shoulders. But you are Regent of Jador, Gilwyn. You must know what that means.’

‘I do,’ said Gilwyn somberly. ‘Every hour of my life is spent worrying about this place, about the Inhumans and White-Eye. But I didn’t expect this, Minikin. I’m. .’ He paused, unable to admit the word.

‘Afraid?’ Minikin offered.

Gilwyn nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘Then I’ll tell you something to make you less afraid — you will not be alone in this, Gilwyn. Ruana will be with you. You do not yet know what an Akari spirit can bring you. She will give you more than just ability. She will give you strength.’

For a moment Gilwyn had forgotten why they were on the mountain. He was to finally meet his Akari spirit, but Minikin’s news had knocked that from his mind. Now that he remembered, he wasn’t sure he wanted to meet her any longer. He looked out over the horizon toward the rising sun. Other than Jador, he could see only desert and mountainous vistas. His nerve was slipping and he knew it. Suddenly he wanted to be down from the mountain, back in Jador with its normal, human problems.

‘You say Ruana will guide this gift in me?’ he asked. ‘Will she tell me what I can do and what I can’t?’

‘In time you will learn that together,’ said Minikin. ‘She will draw out the gift in you, make it more powerful than it could ever be without her. But it’s your choice, Gilwyn. If you want Ruana to do nothing more than give you a normal gait, she can do that. She can ignore the gift in you.’

‘Can she?’ asked Gilwyn.

‘Of course. The Akari do only what we ask of them, nothing more. Ruana will not guide your gift unless it is your will. The choice is yours.’

‘I don’t want to choose,’ said Gilwyn. ‘I don’t want to be so powerful and rule Jador, but I don’t want the city overrun, either. How can I make such a choice? It’s impossible!’

Minikin said nothing, and Gilwyn knew by her silence that his choice wasn’t impossible, really. The only impossible thing was leaving Jador prey to Aztar.

‘Gods,’ he muttered, shaking his head. ‘I’m stuck.’

Laughing, Minikin squeezed his hand. ‘Yes, we’re all stuck, Gilwyn!’

‘I’m not even sure I can do this, Minikin. You say I’m powerful, but I don’t know. .’

‘Ruana will help you,’ the mistress repeated. ‘And so will I. And you will be powerful, Gilwyn. You will be the most powerful kreel rider Jador has ever known, because it is your gift.’

She was so certain, yet Gilwyn couldn’t believe her because it all seemed so impossible. He was no warrior. Back in Liiria he had been a librarian, and an apprentice at that. With his clubbed hand he couldn’t even wield a sword, much less finesse the long whips the Jadori riders used. All he could do was ride Emerald. And yet, he could ride the beast effortlessly. He was magnificent at riding and communicating in Emerald’s wordless way, and he knew it. He just didn’t know why.

‘I have so many questions,’ said Gilwyn. ‘Questions for Ruana, I think.’

‘You are ready, then?’

Gilwyn nodded. ‘I’ve waited long enough. I want to meet Ruana.’

Together they sat on the rock. Minikin shifted to face him. Opening her coat, she fully revealed the Eye of God dangling at her chest. Instantly the amulet seized Gilwyn’s gaze. Alive with colour and pulsating breath, it calmed Gilwyn immediately. As she spoke, Minikin’s voice was soft and melodious.

‘In this amulet is Lariniza, the Akari that keeps me young and vital. She is powerful, almost as powerful as her brother the great Amaraz.’

Gilwyn nodded, already knowing this.

‘You are about to leave this world and enter another, Gilwyn, and you’ll need Lariniza to guide you. She’ll take you beyond the bonds of this mortal realm to the place where Ruana dwells.’

It made little sense, yet Gilwyn couldn’t speak. He merely stared at the amulet, unafraid.

‘Touch the Eye, Gilwyn. Take it in your hand.’

Slowly, Gilwyn did as Minikin commanded. He reached out and touched the smooth gold and gemstone, cradling it carefully in his fingers. Warmth flooded his hand, seeping quickly into his arm and body. Around him, he felt the world shudder. The light from the ruby dazzled his eyes, expanding in a scarlet sphere. The sensation panicked him, but he was unable to let go of the amulet. Just when he thought he would shout out for help, the red firestorm abated. .

And Gilwyn entered a whole new world.

He was alone, and the mountain was gone. So too were Minikin and Emerald. Instead, a forest surrounded him, green and chirping with life. Ahead of him stood a lake, its surface shimmering with fog. Dew gleamed on the grass and the leaves of the trees. The air felt warm and still. Birdsong tumbled from the tree limbs and the sun glowed opaque behind a canopy of moss. It was early morning, or it seemed to be, and the peace of the new day filled Gilwyn with calm. The lapping of the water on the shore called to him. Bewildered, he looked down at his hands to test their realness and found them translucent and ethereal. But he could stand; he had substance. And he was not afraid. Even in his confusion the strange new world delighted him.

‘Where am I?’ he asked. His voice sounded odd to him, as though it echoed before ending. He glanced around, thinking to find Lariniza, but the Akari was nowhere to be found. Had she transported him here? And where was here? It was not Jador, surely, because the land was lush and wet and even the sky looked different. ‘I’m dreaming,’ he told himself. It was like the greatest, most realistic dream he’d ever had. Here in this world he could do anything and he knew it. He took a step and found that his limp had fled. Though his mechanical boot still wrapped his clubfoot, there was no pain from the appendage now. Gilwyn laughed and took another step, staring at his feet as he did so, seeing a normal gait for the first time in his life.

Up ahead, the lake beckoned. He walked toward it, studying its shining waters and the way the fog moved across its surface. Like a black mirror it stretched out for miles toward a distant shore. As he neared it the trees parted, revealing its sandy shore. And more. Gilwyn paused.

At the shore a woman waited, leaning against a wooden boat. He could see her profile as she stared across the lake, the water lapping at her naked feet. She wore a dress of white linen, the hem of which floated in the lake around her ankles. Her hair shone gold, her complexion was milky fair. She did not turn to look at Gilwyn, yet she seemed to know he was watching her. Her lips turned up in a sly smile as her eyes moved across the misty lake. Gilwyn paused, amazed by her. Her whole body seemed to shimmer in the feeble light. This was not Lariniza, he was sure. This was Ruana. Somehow, he knew her instantly, and was enchanted. When he said her name, it was like a poem.

‘Ruana.’

The figure at the lakeside at last turned to face him. A pair of dancing eyes embraced him as she smiled. ‘Come ahead,’ she beckoned. ‘You are safe here.’

As the sand pulled at his feet, Gilwyn walked over to the woman. He could see she was very young, just as Minikin had explained. Ruana had died young, and apparently had never aged, at least not in this netherworld. She was lovely, too, with bright eyes and golden ringlets of hair that stirred in a non-existent breeze. What surprised Gilwyn most, though, were the tips of her ears, which were turned up in an elvish fashion, just as Minikin’s were.

‘You are Ruana,’ said Gilwyn. ‘I know you are.’

‘How do you know?’ asked the woman.

‘Because I feel it.’

Ruana nodded. ‘Precisely right.’

She leaned against her little boat as Gilwyn stopped to stand before her.

‘Ruana, what is this place?’ asked Gilwyn. ‘Is this a dream?’

‘This is the place of the Akari, Gilwyn,’ replied Ruana. ‘This is our land, as it was, as it remains in the world beyond yours. And no, this is no dream.’

‘I don’t know how I got here,’ said Gilwyn. ‘I touched Minikin’s amulet, and then I was here. I saw the lake, then I saw you.’ It was so absurd he laughed. ‘It’s so strange!’

‘Lariniza brought you here, as Minikin said she would,’ Ruana explained. ‘She brought you here so we could talk, and so you could see me.’ She smiled, and the warmness of it melted Gilwyn. ‘It is time that we met, no?’

‘Yes,’ said Gilwyn eagerly. ‘I wanted this for so long.’

‘As did I. I have known you all your life. I have been with you since you were a baby, Gilwyn.’

The idea was staggering, though Gilwyn had known it for some time now. ‘Yes, Minikin told me. She marked me as a child in Koth, gave you to me. And you’ve always been watching over me?’

‘In a sense.’ Ruana looked out over the lake. Her expression turned sad. ‘I have lived in this place for ages, but time has no meaning here. One moment is like the next or the one before. Still, I was given to you and I waited for you to come to me.’

Gilwyn noted the stillness of the lake. ‘This is the place of the dead.’ He glanced at Ruana. ‘Am I right?’

‘This is a place for the Akari dead,’ Ruana answered. ‘This is my place of death.’ She touched the boat and smiled. ‘This is where I died, Gilwyn, falling out of this boat. I drowned here, and yet I still come because I love this place.’

‘Is that how it is when we die?’ Gilwyn asked. ‘Like this?’

Ruana’s answer was cryptic. ‘For Akari, it is this way. For me it is this way. This is the world as it was when I lived, Gilwyn. Look around — is it not beautiful? This is the land of my people, before time turned it dry and the Jadori killed us all.’

It was lovely. No longer was Gilwyn in a desert surrounded by mountains and sand. The old Akari world was lush and bursting with life. Gilwyn could tell why Ruana didn’t want to leave it.

‘Why have you brought me here like this?’ he asked. ‘Is this how we’ll always communicate?’

‘No,’ Ruana chuckled, ‘not at all. Now is your time of knowledge, Gilwyn, the time for you to know me as I have known you, to see the world I came from as I have learned of your world. I brought you here to meet me, to see me as I was, when I was real and alive like you. That is all this is — time for you to learn.’

Gilwyn went closer to the woman. He touched the boat, then slipped his hand over hers and found it real and warm. The sensation troubled him. ‘I have so many questions, Ruana. About you, about my gift, about all of this.’

‘I will help you to understand,’ said Ruana. ‘But first. .’ She stepped into the boat then held out her hand. ‘Come with me and let me show you my world.’

‘You mean on the lake? I don’t know. .’

Ruana lifted a thin eyebrow. ‘Come now, Gilwyn — you must trust me.’

Gilwyn grimaced. ‘You’re right.’

Forgetting his hesitancy, he took her hand and let her guide him into the boat. There were no oars and no sail, yet as soon as he was seated the strange vessel disembarked, sliding soundlessly off the beach and into the swirling mists.

Within moments, the fog had swallowed the shore, and all the trees and birds disappeared. Ruana sat in the front of the boat looking out over the water. Her self-assured presence relaxed Gilwyn. He sat still in the seat behind her, not speaking, watching as the mists bloomed around the boat and the water parted silently beneath its prow. He didn’t know where she was taking him, or if Minikin worried about him back in the world. But he trusted Ruana in a way he’d never trusted anyone before. She was part of him; he could feel her presence in his mind as sure as his own. Suddenly, the million questions that plagued him abated, satisfied by Ruana’s mere presence.

The windless air carried them for what seemed a long time. At last the mists lifted to reveal a foreign shore. Gilwyn sat up and peered across the lake. In the distance was a city, quiet yet alive with activity, with tall buildings twisting skyward and aqueducts rushing with water. Amazingly, he could see people in the streets, busy with commerce, dressed as Ruana was dressed in fine linens and golden jewellery. He could not hear them and he could not imagine why he could see them so clearly when they were so far away, yet Gilwyn knew he was in the midst of magic and so he did not question it. He counted the spires of the many constructs — one. . two. . a hundred. . a thousand — as if there were no end to them, as if the city and its beautiful people stretched out ceaselessly across the world.

‘Kaliatha,’ said Ruana suddenly.

‘Kaliatha,’ Gilwyn mimed. ‘The city of the Akari.’

He knew it without knowing how. As the boat skimmed across the lake, he leaned forward for a better look at Ruana’s dead city.

‘This is how it was,’ she explained. ‘How it remains for some of us. So beautiful and eternal.’

Gilwyn wanted to know what the city looked like now, in his time and world, but he couldn’t ask that of Ruana, for she seemed enamoured with her city as though it were her lover. Yet Ruana read Gilwyn’s thought and flicked her eyes toward him.

‘It is a ruin now, Gilwyn. In your world, Kaliatha is overrun with sand and vermin. If you wish, I can show you that.’ Then Ruana paused in thought. ‘No, I will show you something else.’

The mists that had veiled the city returned, blocking Kaliatha from their view once again. Disappointed, Gilwyn sank back as the little boat continued its aimless journey. He wondered if he had offended the Akari woman. There was no smile on her face or the smallest hint to betray her thoughts. Then, the glamour that parted the mists returned, once again bringing forth the shore. And once again the shore had changed. This time Gilwyn looked off into a vast valley, full of dust and sand and hemmed in by rugged mountains. For the first time since embarking on the boat he heard sounds, like thunder. They were the sounds of battle, and the combatants filled the valley. Men on horses and men on kreels, men in armour and men in the flowing garb of Jadori warriors, clashing with blood-gushing force on the field. Horrified, Gilwyn rose to his feet, staring out into the carnage, almost soaring over it with a bird’s-eye view. Bodies and blood and broken lances littered the valley. Screams and war whoops split the sky. The mountains shook with violence. And all the while Ruana sat back, mildly horrified, her face drawn but reserved, witnessing the death of her people as though it were a play.

‘Enough,’ said Gilwyn, turning away. ‘Bring back the mists, Ruana. I don’t want to see any more.’

The boat didn’t move, but the fog returned to curtain the bloodbath. Gilwyn sat down across from Ruana and stared at her in anger.

‘Why did you show me that?’

‘Because you wanted to see it,’ replied Ruana. ‘You claimed otherwise but that was a lie. You wanted to see what the Jadori did to the Akari because you could not believe it. But now you believe, I think.’

Her words rattled Gilwyn. ‘Ruana, if this is how it will be between us. .’

‘I told you, this is your time of knowledge. You must learn about me as I have learned about you. Otherwise I will never be able to aid the gift in you.’

Suddenly Gilwyn understood. His eyes narrowed on Ruana. ‘You showed me that battle because of what could happen to the Jadori, is that it? If I don’t use my gift they could be slaughtered. Is that what you’re saying?’

‘Yes,’ said Ruana bluntly. ‘But you will use your gift, because you love the Jadori and the one called White-Eye, and because you cannot bear to see them slaughtered as they slaughtered my people.’

‘But can I? Can I really do it?’ Gilwyn sighed miserably, feeling as oppressed and grey as the fog. ‘I’m no leader, Ruana. If you know me at all you already know that about me.’

‘Minikin has set a great task at your feet. To say otherwise would be untrue. But she is very wise. She sees the gift in you, and has chosen me to nurture it. And I shall, with your help.’

‘Gift,’ scoffed Gilwyn. ‘Why? Because my best friend was a monkey? I’m a librarian, Ruana! I can’t even walk without this damn boot, unless I’m here in this weird world of yours. What makes any of you think I can do this? If you want a hero, you should send Lukien to the valley of kreels.’

‘Brooding.’ Ruana shook her head. ‘A bad trait of yours. Do you not believe that I can help you? Have I not shown you miracles today? Yet still you don’t trust me. So now I must show you one more miracle.’

‘Gods, no more battlefields, please.’

‘Close your eyes, Gilwyn,’ Ruana commanded.

‘What?’

‘Do as I say.’

So Gilwyn did so, shutting out the sight of her. ‘What now?’

‘Now listen to me. You are very powerful, but your powers are just below the surface waiting for you to discover them. You will never discover them unless you believe.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘You are very close to Teku, yes?’

‘Of course. You know that.’

‘And with the kreel, Emerald. You can read the beast’s thoughts. You don’t even have to think about it. When you’re with Emerald, the two of you are one mind. Now I want you to think about Teku. Where is the creature now, Gilwyn?’

‘Back in Jador.’

‘No,’ said Ruana sharply. ‘Where is she right now?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You do! You are in my realm now, Gilwyn. Here you are all powerful! Tell me where Teku is. Tell me what she sees!’

Without warning, the image of Teku popped into Gilwyn’s mind. The scales fell away from his eyes and he saw her, and through her eyes he saw, and all the world looming large around her. He gasped, thinking it a trick, but holding his eyes closed he continued the amazing feat. He recognised the garden of the Jadori palace, its fat rose blooms hanging over the trestles. Teku was there. Looking down from her eyes Gilwyn saw her cradling a piece of fruit. When the monkey looked up again he saw Thorin leaning back hazardously on a chair, cutting slices from an apple and popping them absently into his mouth. The baron looked pensive, heavily burdened. He glanced at Teku and spoke to her, and it was as if the old man were speaking to Gilwyn himself.

‘It’s Thorin!’ he exclaimed. ‘He’s with Teku in the garden. He always looks after Teku when I’m not around.’

‘You see? This is no dream, Gilwyn, no illusion. You are seeing through her eyes, back in your world.’

The sensation amazed Gilwyn. His mouth hung open as he continued living through Teku, watching the quick movements of her tiny hands, seeming so large now as she fed herself the apple slice. Occasionally she glanced up at Thorin, revealing his grim countenance. There was something troubling his old friend, but Gilwyn was too awed to pay it much attention.

‘So this is what it’s like. Will I be able to do this with the kreel, too?’

‘In time,’ replied Ruana. ‘And with work. Open your eyes now, Gilwyn.’

At her command, Gilwyn’s eyes opened with no effort on his part, and he realised that in her world, her word was law. But he didn’t mind. She had given him a stunning gift.

‘It will not be so easy in your world,’ she told him, ‘but we will work hard together and make your gift powerful.’

Gilwyn nodded. Still stunned, he didn’t know what to say. He looked at Ruana and smiled. She was so beautiful. He wanted to thank her but didn’t know how.

‘Now you will return to your world, Gilwyn. The next time we speak, it will be different.’

‘All right,’ Gilwyn agreed. ‘We’ve been gone so long, I should get back to Minikin. But where will you go?’

‘I’ll be with you, and I’ll be here. It’s the same, really.’ Ruana leaned forward then and kissed his forehead. ‘Goodbye, Gilwyn.’

‘Goodbye, Ruana. .’

Gilwyn’s words were swallowed whole by the same red light that had snatched him earlier. Dazzled by the brightness, he squinted and looked away, but when the light quickly died he was just as he had been, seated before Minikin, his hand still clutching the Eye of God. He jerked back as if suddenly awakened. The mistress of Grimhold grinned.

‘Welcome back, Gilwyn.’

Just as she had taken them up the mountain, Emerald took Gilwyn and Minikin back down without complaint. By the time they reached the bottom it was well into mid-morning, and Gilwyn knew his sense of time had been radically shaken. It seemed to him that he had spent hours with Ruana, but Minikin had sworn that the whole experience had unfolded in mere moments. When he had opened his eyes again she had been there, smiling just as she had been when he’d first touched the amulet.

His mind was full of questions, yet the pure awe of his experience kept him silent all the way down the mountain. Finally, when they came to level ground again and Minikin dismounted for a brief rest, Gilwyn found his voice.

‘You look like them,’ he said without thinking. It was as if he suddenly remembered the little woman’s resemblance to Ruana. Minikin, who had been stretching her back and grimacing, paused and looked at him.

‘That’s right,’ she replied. ‘Do you know why?’

‘Because you’ve spent so much time with them, because they’ve kept you alive.’

‘Correct. They have. . influenced me, you might say.’

Gilwyn sighed. ‘Minikin, it was all so amazing. Ruana’s still alive. I mean, it’s like she never really died! She’s still in the world she knew a thousand years ago, and the world hasn’t changed.’

‘No, that’s not right, Gilwyn,’ said Minikin quickly. ‘The world has changed.’ She spread her arms, gesturing at their surroundings. ‘This is the world. The place you saw — the place where Ruana dwells — is not.’

‘But it was so real! It must be a world!’

‘Listen carefully, Gilwyn — Ruana’s world exists, yes. But it is not the world. Don’t ever make that mistake. Ruana and all the Akari live in a netherworld, a realm of the dead. You live in the world of the living, and that is the only world you need to remember.’

Gilwyn patted Emerald’s long neck distractedly. Minikin was just confusing him. ‘But there is a world after this one. Is that how it will be for us when we die?’

The question made Minikin frown. ‘I don’t know.’

‘What? Minikin, you must know. .’

‘I do not,’ said Minikin flatly. ‘The Akari have not told me that there is a world beyond this one for those of us who are not Akari. I can imagine that it exists, but I have no proof and they have never provided it to me. And listen to me carefully, Gilwyn — that is not for us to know. Not ever. Not while we are alive.’

‘But why?’ Gilwyn asked. After all he had seen, Minikin’s evasiveness perplexed him. ‘Why can’t we know? And if the Akari know, why don’t they tell us?’

Minikin buttoned up her coat and climbed back onto Emerald. As before, she sat in front of Gilwyn, who controlled the reptile and pinned Minikin against his chest as though she were a little girl. It was her way of saying that she didn’t want to answer his question, at least not yet. Well accustomed to Minikin’s ways, Gilwyn didn’t push the issue. Instead he pointed Emerald toward Jador and sent the kreel scurrying off. But by the time they had travelled no more than a hundred yards, Minikin spoke.

‘Have you thought of an answer yet?’ she asked.

‘No, I haven’t,’ Gilwyn replied. ‘Have you tried?’

‘Not really.’

‘If you try, you will think of it.’

Gilwyn tried, squinting as he thought, bouncing across the desert with Minikin. But after a few moments he gave up. ‘How about a hint?’

‘Gilwyn, if you knew there was a life beyond this one, if you were completely certain of it and had no doubt that a kind of paradise awaited you, what would you think of the life you have now?’

Instantly Gilwyn understood. The answer saddened him. ‘I guess I wouldn’t try at all.’

Though Minikin didn’t turn around, he could sense her smile. She nodded. ‘We are here to try, Gilwyn. We are here to find our purpose. Without purpose, there is no need for life at all.’