The Devil's armour

5

As always, the message had come on the wings of a dove.

Minikin had never seen their benefactor, but she knew the girl was young. Salina was the fifth of Baralosus’ daughters. He was a minor king who had managed to father a dozen children, and it was said that Salina was his favourite. It intrigued Minikin that she had chosen to betray him. In Princess Salina, the Seekers had found an unexpected friend, yet the girl remained mostly a mystery to Minikin and her Jadori allies. The messages her doves brought to the tower were always succinct, never hinting at motives or reward. Minikin held the note in her tiny hand as she looked out over the city, spying the distant Desert of Tears. Across the burning ocean of sand, Ganjor and its young princess waited. In the folds of the desert, Prince Aztar’s illegitimate kingdom had sprung up. And lost between them were Gilwyn and Lukien and all the others. Minikin’s tiny lips twisted in worry. Her friends — and they were her friends now — had left many hours ago, not long after Salina’s note had arrived. Their absence shouldn’t have troubled Minikin, but it did. She reminded herself that the Desert of Tears was a giant place, and that Lukien would not return until he had located the Seekers. Next to her, the white dove Princess Salina had sent rested on its perch near the open window. It had eaten its fill of seed and slaked its thirst on water, and now waited for Minikin to pen a return note, ready to wing its way back to the Ganjeese princess. But the Mistress of Grimhold had not the heart to set the bird aloft again.

She was very high up in Jador’s palace. Minikin remembered how many times she had been here in the past, when the lavish room had belonged to Kahan Kadar. The ruler of Jador had been her friend for decades, decades given them by magic, extending their lives well beyond normality. Now these rooms belonged to White-Eye. She was Kahana, but her malady of the eyes made it impossible for her to stay in sun-baked Jador, and so Gilwyn ruled in her stead. The room was littered with Gilwyn’s things, books mostly, which he had acquired from grateful Seekers. Minikin’s tiny shadow fell on a pile of Gilwyn’s clothes, which lay carelessly on the floor near the window. She smiled, reminded of what a boy he still was, despite his man-sized responsibilities.

‘Not much time,’ she remarked. Further into the room, her giant bodyguard nodded. He was many times her height and stooped, even in the high ceiling of the chamber. Trog, who was without a tongue, did not smile or offer his mistress any comfort. Minikin did not expect any. His presence was enough. ‘We should go now,’ she said, still unable to pull her gaze from the desert or take her mind off her thousand worries. With a smirk she added, ‘I’m sure they’re well, don’t you think?’

Though Trog was deaf he could hear her perfectly. His Akari — the spirit that had bound to him — assured that. Again he nodded his big head. Minikin did not turn to see the gesture.

Today, she had the rare opportunity to bring another of the Seekers into her fold. She had chosen a boy this time. And she had discovered the perfect Akari spirit to bind with him. She should have been happy, but was not. It gave her little joy these days to bestow this awesome gift. There were so many needing it. The godlike role she’d been forced to play weighed heavy on her mind.

She put out a finger for the dove, who hopped onto it at once. Minikin studied the creature, wondering about the girl who’d sent it. It would have been a simple matter to ask Insight about Princess Salina. Lacaron, Insight’s Akari, might easily be able to tell her more. But Minikin respected the girl’s privacy, and so did not wish to pry into her motivations. Somewhere in Ganjor’s royal family beat a kind heart, and that was good enough for Minikin.

‘Your mistress has saved many lives,’ she told the bird. ‘And now I must go to save another.’

The dove seemed obscenely large on the midget’s finger. Minikin coaxed it back onto its perch, gave a last wishful look at the desert, then turned and left the chamber. Trog, always a pace behind her, dutifully followed.

On the outskirts of Jador, beyond the white wall that sealed the city from the desert, a thriving sub-city had evolved. For long years it had been a place of travellers and traders, merchants from Ganjor and Dreel and the Agora valley and Nith, who had come across the Desert of Tears with their families to make a contented life in the shadow of Jador. It was not a slum; Kahan Kadar, who had lived many generations and had watched the sub-city grow up around his own, had always been kind and generous to those from other nations, and so had opened Jador to their cultures. The white wall that protected his city had long been unguarded, with a giant gate left open so that Jadori and foreigners could trade and mingle freely. It had been a fine arrangement, and Kahan had been proud of it. Both sides of the wall were contented, and so it had remained for many years.

Then, the Liirians had come. With his great army, King Akeela had changed the lives of every Jadori, inside and out of the white wall. The Liirians had brought destruction to Jador and the deaths of countless warriors and kreels, and in the year since their defeat the city had never recovered. Nor had the trade with the outside world. There were no more caravans from Ganjor or Dreel or the Agora valley or Nith. There were only the Seekers, those brave enough to defy Prince Aztar and come across the desert. Like the ruins of Jador’s defences and the dearth of vital kreels, Prince Aztar was just another ugly outcome of King Akeela’s war. He had replaced Akeela as the thing the Jadori most feared.

Gilwyn and the others had not returned by the time Minikin exited the city. Atop a pony, she rode out from the gate and entered the surrounding township to the gasps of the populace.

‘Ela-daz,’ they called and whispered, pointing at the little woman as she made her way through the streets. A woman smiled up at her. Her face half-hidden behind a veil, she offered Minikin a handful of nuts she’d been selling from bowls in the avenue. ‘Ela-daz,’ the woman greeted, joyous at the sight of her. Minikin returned the smile but refused the nuts, saying nothing. The crowd parted as she continued, but the staring did not ebb. It was always this way when Ela-daz ventured forth. The people of the township knew she only went among them when she had a special purpose. The buzz of her visit quickly rippled through the street.

Kahan Kadar had been the first Jadori to call her Ela-daz. It was a term of endearment, meaning ‘little one’, and Minikin had never protested it. She had learned long ago that names held no harm — a bit of wisdom she instilled in her Inhumans — and she knew that Kadar had given her the title in kindness. He had been her finest friend, and the first to wear the Eye of God that Lukien now wore. She, as the Mistress of Grimhold, wore the amulet’s twin. It had kept her alive for decades on end. Kadar had been dead for a year now, but she missed him still. In the aftermath of the Liirian war she had been given a thousand new burdens, and she craved Kahan’s gentle guidance.

Minikin did not hurry through the crowd, because she enjoyed being among them and because her bodyguard Trog always lagged behind when she rode her pony. There were few horses in Jador now, almost none of them large enough to bear the mute’s enormous weight, so Trog walked a few paces behind his mistress, keeping up as best he could. He was a frightful sight and the people of the township gave him a wide berth as he moved through them. Minikin looked back and gave him an encouraging wink. Here in Jador, she had no real use for a bodyguard, but Trog refused to leave her and she was always grateful for his company.

‘Ela-daz comes!’ cried a voice from the crowd. A dozen eager heads popped up. They were not poor, precisely, these people beyond the wall, but rather they were plain folk who had made lives for themselves. Like the Jadori, they took their living from the desert and the harsh mountains, which provided everything they needed except security from Prince Aztar. That, unfortunately, had fallen to Lukien to provide. Minikin reached down and touched the offered hands of the townspeople. They were Ganjeese mostly, with brown, rough skin that brushed harshly against her own small fingers. Trog watched carefully each hand she shook.

‘Where are you going, Ela-daz?’ asked an eager boy. He spoke Ganjeese, which Minikin had long ago picked up and now understood perfectly. ‘Have you chosen another? Who is it?’

All of them wanted to know, but Minikin stayed silent. She had indeed selected one of their neighbours, but she was still a good distance from the right house. She lifted her head to check the direction. The term ‘street’ only loosely applied to the avenues of the township, and for a moment she was confused. But only for a moment. Around her neck her own Eye of God burned a little brighter as she communed with Lariniza, the spirit within the amulet. In her timeless, soft voice Lariniza silently answered Minikin’s query, guiding her toward the home of the Seeker they had mutually selected. Minikin turned her pony left and started again down the choked avenue toward a distant collection of shabby homes made from wood and sand. Similar homes had been erected all around the township, but Minikin now saw in her mind a picture of the place, and finding it among its countless brothers wouldn’t be a problem. With Trog slogging behind her, she happily trotted toward the squat homes. The melancholy that had plagued her earlier was gone. She was bringing joyous news, and she knew her appearance would thrill the boy’s parents.

If only she could bring such joy to all the Seekers. That thought was never far from her mind, especially now when she rode among them, for not all the faces she encountered were glad to see her. As she rode past them, some fell in bitter disappointment. There simply were not enough Akari spirits for them all. And she had not asked them to come to Jador. It wasn’t her fault that they were miserable.

Why then, she wondered, did it torture her? Like a petal falling from a flower, her good mood fled in a wind of discontent. Suddenly she wanted to hurry to the house. She retracted her hand and turned away from the people greeting her, focusing on the homes in the distance.

‘Trog, I’m going ahead,’ she called. ‘I’ll be safe, do not worry. I will see you there.’

Trog would have protested if he could, but the giant merely hurried his pace, walking in huge strides to keep up with Minikin’s pony, which nimbly serpentined through the crowded street as it bore its rider toward the waiting houses. As she neared them, Minikin at once noticed the people gathered there. They had come out of their little homes, dropping their chores. She recognised many of them, Seekers from the north who had come to Jador with the misguided hope of finding magic. As they saw the woman they considered their saviour, their faces lit with anticipation. A man from Dreel with terrible, crippling burns met her eyes as she rode forward. With all the mercy she could muster, Minikin smiled and shook her head. The man’s expression dimmed, and he drew back. Only one house would be visited by Minikin today, and only one Seeker inside the house would be chosen. But Minikin knew she would be warmly greeted there, for the boy’s parents had implored her kindly, had waited patiently for months, never begging, never insisting, always offering kind prayers for the Mistress of Grimhold, or, as they called it, Mount Believer. Minikin took a breath to prepare herself. Carefully she avoided the eyes of the other Seekers, who had all gathered in little communities like this one, waiting for their turn. The Ganjeese and other people of the township withdrew as she approached the homes. Suddenly, silence filled the avenue.

Minikin saw the house. It was at the end of a row of homes just like it, small and plain, with walls made of white, sandy cement and a wooden door dried and buckled by the desert heat. Standing on the home’s humble threshold were a man and a woman, both of whom Minikin had studied, sometimes secretly. Their names were Varagin and Leshe. They had come from Marn nearly a year ago with their son Carlan, among the first wave of Seekers to cross the desert. And when they had arrived they had told their sad tale to Gilwyn, who had in turn told it to Minikin, about how Carlan had been blind since birth and how there was no chance for a blind child in Marn, because the economy of their country had collapsed since the fall of neighbouring Liiria. In the months that followed, Minikin had heard the story repeated countless times, but she had never forgotten Varagin and Leshe or their sweet-tempered child. Nor had they forgotten her.

Leshe had a cleaning rag in her hand. Varagin held a spade. Together they watched Minikin approach, their faces frozen in a kind of desperate hope. Mercifully, Minikin ended their anticipation with a smile. The couple from Marn let their mouths drop open. Leshe put a hand to her bosom.

‘Ela-daz,’ shouted Varagin. ‘Have you come for us?’

By this time Trog had caught up with his mistress. He came to walk beside her as she trotted her pony to the house. The other Seekers nodded and offered congratulations to the stunned couple.

‘Carlan’s going to Mount Believer!’ said one of them. Another simply stared at Minikin, awestruck. He had a drooping eye and a clawed, curled hand, and it broke Minikin’s heart to look at him, for she knew how desperately he — and all of them — wanted her visit. They were misguided, surely, but they were brave people, and Minikin regretted her deception, for she had never told them the whole truth of Grimhold. But today she would tell it to Carlan, and that was enough. She reached the house, then dismounted with Trog’s help. Varagin and Leshe bowed, their hands clasped together as in prayer. Embarrassed, Minikin quickly told them to rise.

‘I have come for your son,’ she said.

‘To take him to Mount Believer?’ asked Leshe. ‘Oh, Fate, thank you!’

‘Grimhold,’ corrected Minikin mildly, slightly annoyed at the mention of Fate, a deity she had never believed in. ‘From now on, you and Varagin must call it that. We of Grimhold do not refer to it as Mount Believer, and you must not either while your son is one of us.’ She looked around at the other Seekers who were staring at her. The desperation in their eyes frightened her. She said to them, ‘I am sorry. It is as I have told you. There are no places in Grimhold for you all. But this child I take with me — will you all wish him well?’

‘Oh, yes,’ they all agreed, without a hint of anger. Even their disappointment fled behind their well-wishes for the child. Minikin had decided long ago that she would only take children to Grimhold. She supposed the older Seekers had realised that, though none of them spoke of it openly. The Mistress of Grimhold turned to her hosts. ‘Carlan; he is inside?’

‘Yes,’ said Varagin. ‘We didn’t expect you, Ela-daz. Our home is so meagre. We have nothing to offer you.’

‘We have drink for you,’ Leshe hurried to say. ‘And whatever else we have is yours.’

Their graciousness warmed Minikin. ‘Thank you, no. I really must see the child now. Let’s go inside.’ She turned to her bodyguard and squeezed his enormous hand. ‘Wait here for me. Don’t let anyone follow.’

The gathered Seekers, hearing her words, retreated a little. Without explanation Minikin let herself into the house, Varagin and his wife following close behind. While Varagin shut the wooden door, Trog took up position, blocking the threshold with his great presence. The home was as Minikin had expected — and as Lariniza had showed her during their communions — a pleasant place with mismatched pieces of furniture throughout the main room, mostly chairs of northern design gathered around the hearth. The floor was smooth, hardened sand, a material the Jadori and Ganjeese both used throughout their villages. Along the floor were rugs and pillows for sitting, again mismatched, a collection of Jadori, Dreel, and Ganjeese patterns whose differences could only be discerned by an experienced eye. What little the family had brought with them from Marn had been arranged on a shelf, mostly mementos from a life left far behind. But Minikin didn’t bother studying these things. Sitting in the centre of the room was a child, playing with a collection of crude wooden blocks carved with Jadori symbols. They were game blocks, but Carlan was far too young to know their significance. Like others his age, his joy came from simply stacking them one atop the other, then knocking them over. And, just like other blind children Minikin had encountered, Carlan knew instinctively when others had entered the room, and that a stranger was with them.

‘Papa?’ he queried. Amazingly, he seemed to look straight at Minikin when he spoke. ‘Who is with you?’

‘A friend,’ answered his father.

‘Carlan, there’s someone here to see you,’ said Leshe. ‘Remember why we came here?’

Carlan nodded. ‘To help me see.’

Leshe smiled. ‘That’s right. Oh, my little son — this woman is here to help you.’

Minikin padded forward, then knelt down before the boy. He studied her, cocking his head to listen. He was five years old now, the perfect age for bonding with an Akari. His mind still regarded magic as something plausible.

‘Carlan, my name is Minikin,’ she said. She did not call herself Ela-daz, for that was not the name the Inhumans called her. ‘I’m here to help you.’

‘To see?’ the boy asked.

‘That’s right.’ Minikin reached beneath her coat and pulled out the Eye of God, letting it spin on its gold chain. While Varagin and Leshe watched wordlessly, their son’s expression was blank. ‘I don’t want you to be afraid, Carlan. You’re not afraid, are you?’

‘No,’ said Carlan quickly, although his twisted expression told Minikin he didn’t quite trust her.

‘Good. I’m not going to hurt you. We’re going to try something. Just a small experiment. Do you want to see, Carlan?’

The boy nodded dubiously. His parents didn’t interrupt, but flicked each other wary glances.

‘Where I come from,’ Minikin went on, ‘little boys and girls are made whole again. If they can’t hear or can’t walk or can’t take care of themselves, they are made safe.’

‘You’re from Mount Believer,’ said Carlan. ‘I know about you. That’s why we came here.’

‘That’s right,’ said Minikin gently. ‘Only we have a different name for Mount Believer. We call it Grimhold. Have you heard the story of Grimhold, Carlan?’

Again the boy nodded. ‘That’s where the monsters go.’

‘No. People think that, but we aren’t monsters. We’re just like you, Carlan. We’re good people, and we’re going to teach you how to see.’

‘With magic?’

Minikin kept the amulet spinning on its chain. ‘I’m holding something in my hand. Do you know what it is?’

‘I’m blind,’ said Carlan peevishly.

‘No, your eyes are blind. Not your mind. Not your heart. You can see anything with your mind if your heart is open, Carlan. Now just relax and sit still for me. I’m going to show you something special.’

Carlan, who had been blind since birth, found the statement confusing. He glanced up at his mother, about to speak, but a silencing hush from Leshe stilled his tongue. With a sigh he did as Minikin asked, sitting and staring in her direction. The lady from Grimhold sensed his calm. As she reached into his mind, she summoned Lariniza from the amulet. The Eye of God burst into colours as the Akari spirit flamed to life, stretching out invisible hands to link the woman and child. Carlan gasped, his eyebrows shooting up in astonishment. In his mind the amulet flared, the first thing in his life he had ever truly seen.

‘Oh!’ His hand shot out to grasp it, almost snatching it from Minikin’s grip. ‘What is it?’

Because he had no words to describe things he’d never seen, Minikin explained, ‘That’s the Eye of God. It’s made of gold. Can you see the gold, Carlan?’

The boy was exuberant. ‘Yes, yes! Mother, I can see it!’

Leshe put her hand to her mouth, biting down to stem tears she couldn’t stop. ‘Great Fate, he can see. .’

Varagin looked awestruck. ‘What about us? Can he see us?’

Minikin asked, ‘Do you want him to see you now?’

‘Yes, yes,’ replied Leshe. ‘Please!’

It wasn’t what Minikin had planned, but she knew Lariniza could handle it easily. Like her brother Amaraz, who inhabited Lukien’s amulet, she was a wondrously powerful Akari. Minikin silently made the request of the spirit, who answered back in a voiceless warmth. Gradually Lariniza slid deeper into Carlan’s mind, carefully blanketing his brain. The boy’s face lit with wonder. Slowly, he turned his face toward his parents.

‘Papa?’

His little hands reached out. Half laughing, Varagin knelt and grasped his son. Leshe hurried down beside him.

‘Carlan, can you see us?’ she asked.

‘I think I can,’ said the boy. ‘You’re in my head.’ This time his hands went for Leshe’s nose, brushing it and feeling the wetness of her tears.

‘This won’t last,’ Minikin warned. ‘It’s just a test.’

But it was a happy test, and Minikin was satisfied. She let the family have its moment, content to know there would be many more in the future. It would take a lot of hard work, but it was work Minikin had dedicated her whole life toward. She knew Carlan would make a fine Inhuman.

‘He has the heart for it,’ she said softly. ‘Yes. He’ll be one of us.’

Slowly she lowered the amulet, replacing it beneath her garments. The return of its warmth against her skin comforted her.

‘You’re gone!’ said Carlan to his parents. He turned his blank eyes to Minikin. ‘Bring them back!’

‘I will, in time,’ said the little woman. Her expression grew grave. ‘Carlan, if you want to see them again — if you want to see anything — it’s going to take a lot of effort. There are things I need to teach you. Do you understand?’

‘Yes,’ said the boy. ‘I know.’ He pointed toward his mother and father. ‘They told me.’

‘And I’ll have to take you away. You’ll have to come with me to Grimhold, the place you call Mount Believer. Your mother and father will not be with you. Do you understand?’

It was the part that all children hated. But Varagin and his wife had prepared their boy, and Carlan took the news with equanimity.

‘I know,’ he said. ‘But I will see them when we are done. I can come back. Right?’

‘When you’ve learned, yes.’ Minikin looked at the boy’s parents. ‘He is very bright. He will learn well, but not quickly. I want you to be prepared for his absence. Where I am taking him, you may not follow.’

‘As long as he’s not hurt,’ said Leshe. ‘And we know he won’t be.’ She smiled gratefully at the little woman. ‘Before you take him, please tell us — what will you do with him? Will you teach him your magic?’

None of the Seekers knew the nature of Grimhold; Minikin had never been willing to explain all her secrets to them, because she wanted to protect her Inhumans and because the Akari were private beings, fierce about their sanctity. Before the world had learned of Grimhold’s existence, keeping the secret had been easy. Now, it challenged Minikin.

‘I cannot tell you all you wish to know,’ she said. She kept her voice low, suspicious of ears at the door. ‘You wonder why you cannot come with your son, or why I do not take more like him to Grimhold, I know.’

‘Because there are not enough teachers for so many,’ supposed Varagin. ‘That’s right, isn’t it?’

‘Something like that.’ Minikin remained on her knees before the boy, admiring his rapt attention to her words. ‘But the teachers — the Akari — are not like you and I. They are not flesh and bone. And each Inhuman must have his own teacher. When Carlan is taken to Grimhold, an Akari teacher will be given to him.’

Leshe and her husband looked confused. ‘Not flesh and bone?’ said Leshe. ‘They are spirits, then? Like the Great Fate?’

‘They are the dead of a once great race. Because of them, the people of Grimhold are healed.’ Minikin rose but was still not face to face with the adults. ‘You came here because you believe there is magic in Grimhold, and indeed there is magic of a kind. I tell you this because I know it will not shock you.’

Varagin took a breath. ‘No,’ he agreed. ‘Not shocked. Surprised.’

‘And worried,’ added his wife. She looked down at her son, and for the first time doubt flashed through her eyes.

‘You have my promise that no harm will come to Carlan. The Akari that has been chosen for him is kind, and eager to help him to see. But you must be sure.’ Minikin looked at them hard. ‘If you do not wish the boy to go with him, say so now. I will not bring him back or answer any pleas to see him, not until he is ready.’

‘How long will that be?’ asked Leshe.

‘As long as it takes,’ said Minikin. She would give no firmer answer. For a long moment Varagin and Leshe stared at their son, contemplating their heavy decision. There really was no turning back. Going home to Marn was impossible; they’d be killed crossing the desert. And even if they reached Marn, there was nothing there for a blind boy except to grow up to be a blind man. Minikin didn’t have to read their minds to know the images blowing through them, pictures of Carlan grown, bumbling through dirty streets begging for coins.

‘I want him to go,’ said Leshe. ‘I want him to be able to see and to grow up normal. Then, when we’re gone he’ll be able to live on his own.’

‘He will be one of my Inhumans,’ said Minikin. ‘He will not be normal.’

‘But he will be safe and he will be well.’ Leshe lifted her head and straightened her back. ‘That is what we wish.’

‘And you, Varagin?’ asked Minikin.

The boy’s father couldn’t speak. Rather, he nodded. Minikin reached down toward Carlan, who had absorbed every word.

‘Take my hand, child.’

Without hesitation Carlan did so, rising to his feet. With blind eyes he looked at his new benefactor. ‘We go now?’

‘Yes,’ said Minikin. ‘To a better place.’

Gilwyn Toms was grateful to see Jador again. After a day in the desert, the place that had become his home welcomed him with its shining white beauty. His palsied hand and leg ached with cramps and his backside burned from riding his kreel too long, and despite the gaka he wore the sun had burned its brand on his cheeks and forehead. It had taken them longer to reach the city than anyone expected. The Seekers had slowed them considerably. And when at last they had reached the outskirts of Jador, the Seekers were disappointed to learn they could not enter the city gates. The sight of the refugee city shocked them. It was that way for all the Seekers who managed to reach Jador. Somehow, they thought they were the only ones. Paxon, the leader of the group, seemed the most surprised. It did not take long for Lukien to exact a small revenge on the man.

‘You see?’ said the Bronze Knight, sweeping a gesture across the plethora of hastily erected homes. ‘This is why you were a fool to come here, Paxon.’

Paxon and his Seekers looked around hopelessly. His eyes danced from house to house, counting up the hundreds — thousands — of people like himself who had come across the desert. When his gaze fixed on the city beyond the white wall, he looked at Gilwyn.

‘No — that’s where we want to go,’ he insisted. ‘We didn’t come across the desert to be left out here.’

‘This is Jador,’ said Gilwyn. Exhausted, he did his best to keep civil. ‘It’s as crowded inside the wall as outside.’

‘But we want to see Mount Believer,’ Paxon argued. He looked around in confusion. ‘Where is it? We were told the city would lead us there.’

The other Seekers nodded, looking at Gilwyn for answers. Calith, still holding the lame Melini, gave Gilwyn a twisted smile. Of all the burdens he carried now as regent, this was the worst of them. Telling Seekers they had travelled so far for nothing had never gotten easier.

‘Give us some time,’ said Gilwyn. ‘We’ll find a place for you to stay, but for now you have to be patient. It might take a day or so to find homes for you all.’

‘What?’ Paxon erupted. ‘Out here? You don’t understand — we’re not like these other people. We’re not refugees! We’re-’

‘You are refugees,’ snapped Lukien. He whirled his horse around to face them all. ‘You’re guests of the Jadori people, uninvited and a burden. Nobody asked you to come here. So you’ll wait. You’ll do what you’re told like the rest of these people did. And if you don’t like it, there’s your way home.’ A stretched index finger pointed across the desert. ‘You’re not prisoners. You’re welcome to leave.’

Gilwyn and Ghost looked shocked by his outburst. So did the Seekers. Paxon stared at Lukien.

‘Sir Lukien, we have nowhere else to go. We came here to-’

‘I know why you came here,’ said Lukien. ‘To be healed. Gods, how many times have I heard that? The world is full of misery, Paxon. Just look around. You’re no different from anyone else.’

The knight didn’t wait for Paxon’s retort. Instead he turned his mount and rode off toward the city gates. The Jadori warriors quickly followed him. Ghost and Gilwyn remained behind, questioning each other with confused glances. Paxon stood at the front of his fellow Liirians, dumbstruck. The Seekers were silent. The cacophony of the township echoed around them, but they seemed too stricken to notice it.

‘Gilwyn Toms?’ said Paxon. ‘What do we do now?’

‘You’ll have to wait,’ replied Gilwyn. ‘I’m sorry, but that’s all I can tell you. We’ll find a place for you and the others, don’t worry. We’re always building new houses. .’

‘No,’ said Paxon. ‘We don’t want to live here. We want to find Mount Believer. Surely you can help us. You are regent here!’

‘I can’t,’ said Gilwyn. ‘This is the best we can do.’

‘Gilwyn Toms, please.’ It was the woman Calith again, speaking from atop the wagon. ‘We are Liirians, like you. Is there not someone you can speak to on our behalf? We’ve come so far.’

The plea broke Gilwyn’s heart, though he knew there was little he could do. ‘There is a woman who will learn of you,’ he said. ‘Her name is Ela-daz. All the Seekers know of her. I will tell her you’ve come, but really it will make little difference.’

‘You have to understand, all these people plead to Eladaz,’ said Ghost. Because he was one of Minikin’s Inhumans, he was anxious to defend her. ‘She has much to consider, and there are only so many places in Grimhold — Mount Believer — for people like yourselves.’

Paxon’s face collapsed in defeat. ‘No,’ he groaned. ‘That just can’t be.’ He looked around at the place that had become his new home, his eyes reflecting its misery. ‘We’ve come so far. .’

‘You will be well treated here,’ said Gilwyn. ‘And you’ll be protected from Aztar’s men. There is food and shelter for everyone.’

‘But no magic,’ sighed Calith. She held her daughter a little closer. ‘Not for us.’

Gilwyn’s insides clenched. ‘I am sorry,’ he told them. ‘I will speak to Ela-daz for you, but I can’t make promises.’ At last he turned his kreel toward the city. ‘Be at ease. Ghost will find food for you and start arranging your shelters. If I hear good news, I will tell you.’

Then, shunting aside the image of their disappointed faces, Gilwyn rode off after Lukien.

The next morning, Gilwyn found Minikin readying to leave Jador. He had not spoken to the Mistress of Grimhold the night before; they had both been too busy with other things. Minikin was in the garden courtyard of the palace. As always, Trog was with her, along with a handful of Jadori warriors, each mounted on a kreel. Another, more enormous kreel awaited the giant Trog, who could not control one himself but had to be driven by an experienced rider. Lukien’s horse had been brought to the courtyard, but the Bronze Knight was nowhere to be seen. A dark-skinned Jadori boy held the reins of the beast adoringly, waiting for Lukien to arrive. Minikin herself was talking to other Jadori, three men, all of whom Gilwyn knew well. But among them was someone Gilwyn had never seen before, a small boy of perhaps five or six. This was Carlan, Gilwyn knew, the child of Seekers from Marn — the one Minikin had selected. As Gilwyn walked across the garden to greet them, a smile crept across his face. At least someone would be making it to Grimhold. The boy sat with Minikin along a stone bench, listening intently as the lady spoke. She did not let Gilwyn’s approach disturb her.

‘When you have learned about the Akari,’ Minikin was saying, ‘only then will you meet your teacher.’

The boy nodded unquestioningly. Around him the men of Jador milled about their kreels, readying their tack and provisions. It was a full day’s trek across the desert to Grimhold. Gilwyn himself had made the journey many times, and knew the necessity of preparation. He waited until Minikin had finished speaking with the boy before stepping closer, and then he waited for her to acknowledge him. She was a good woman, but intimidated Gilwyn still. As usual, Minikin wore her multicoloured coat, which was muted now because the Akari she commanded were at rest. The first time he had seen Minikin, she had used the coat and its attendant spirits to disappear, much the same as Ghost could do. It was just one of the mistress’ great abilities, but it was the one that intrigued Gilwyn the most.

‘Carlan,’ she said, ‘there’s someone else here now. Can you tell?’

The boy, who Gilwyn knew was blind, turned in his direction. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I can tell whenever someone comes close.’

‘This is Gilwyn Toms. He is Regent of Jador.’ Minikin waved Gilwyn closer, who came to stand before the bench. ‘A regent is like a ruler.’

‘Like a king?’

‘In a way. But Gilwyn rules in place of someone else, a young woman named White-Eye. White-Eye is Kahana of Jador, like a queen. You will meet White-Eye when we reach Grimhold.’

Gilwyn stooped a little to face the boy. ‘Hello, Carlan,’ he said with a smile. ‘You’re very lucky to be going to Grimhold. I wish I was going to see White-Eye.’

‘Why is she called that?’ asked the boy.

‘Because she is blind, like you,’ said Minikin. ‘But she’s able to see because of her Akari teacher, just like you’ll be able to see one day.’

‘Is she a nice lady?’

Gilwyn couldn’t contain his grin. ‘Oh, yes.’ Everyone knew of his love for White-Eye; he supposed Carlan should, too. ‘And very beautiful. You’ll like her, I promise.’

‘Carlan, will you sit here and wait for me a moment?’ asked Minikin. ‘Gilwyn wishes to speak to me.’

Gilwyn glanced at Minikin, not surprised by her clairvoyance. He stepped aside, letting Minikin follow him out of earshot. At once a Jadori warrior went to Carlan, watching over him while Minikin turned her back. She wore her customary inscrutable grin as she strolled with Gilwyn through the garden.

‘I am glad you came to see me off,’ she said, ‘but your face tells me you have more on your mind than that. Should I guess? I am thinking that you want to speak of the Seekers you rescued yesterday.’

Gilwyn nodded. Because of his clubfoot, he kept perfect time with Minikin’s little legs. ‘I wanted to talk to you about them before you left for Grimhold. I promised them I would.’

‘Lukien told me that you were quite the hero yesterday.’

‘He said that?’ Gilwyn shrugged. ‘No. .’

‘No?’

The boy grinned. ‘Well, maybe.’

They both laughed.

‘You protected them and brought them here safely, but they are not grateful. I cannot say that I blame them.’ The little woman paused and stared into the distance, toward the township hidden far off behind Jador’s tall, protective wall. ‘It is not easy for them. They expect so much when they get here. It is hard for us to disappoint them.’

‘Yes, it is,’ agreed Gilwyn. ‘They were so desperate.’

‘They are all desperate.’ The fact made Minikin slump. ‘If I could bring them all into Grimhold I would. You know that, don’t you?’

‘Yes,’ said Gilwyn. Confused, he let his gaze drift toward the bricks beneath his feet. ‘I don’t know; maybe it’s because they were Liirians. They got to me. Did Lukien tell you they were Liirians?’

‘He did. It doesn’t change anything, Gilwyn. I take who I can to Grimhold. I cannot consider where they come from. I’m sorry, but it does not matter to me.’

‘They upset Lukien, I think. I thought he would question them, being from Liiria, but he doesn’t seem interested any more. All he thinks of is Cassandra.’

‘Time, Gilwyn. Shalafein needs time.’

The answer vexed the boy. It had been a year since Cassandra’s death. Would Lukien mourn forever? ‘Will you tell Thorin about the Liirians when you get to Grimhold?’ he asked. ‘He’ll want to talk to them, I’m sure.’

‘I’m sure,’ laughed Minikin. ‘I will tell him.’ She grew serious suddenly, fixing her eyes on Gilwyn. ‘You have done a good job here, Gilwyn. Someone should tell you that. I should tell you that, but I am so busy all the time. I am grateful for the way you’ve watched over Jador, as is White-Eye.’

Gilwyn flushed at the compliment. ‘I miss her. I would go back to see her if I could, but there’s so much to do. With Aztar growing bolder, I’m afraid to leave Jador. And there’s the kreel problem, still. We need more of them, Minikin. I have to find them.’

Whenever he brought this up, Minikin deftly changed the subject, for she did not want him to go in search of the valued reptiles. This time, however, the lady surprised him.

‘Speaking of kreels, that’s something we should talk about.’

‘Yes, it is,’ said Gilwyn eagerly. ‘If we don’t find more, we won’t be able to protect ourselves.’

‘That’s not exactly my meaning,’ said Minikin. She stepped back and sized him up. ‘Do you know what Lukien said to me? He called your handling of your kreel yesterday brilliant. He said he’d never seen anything like it, not by a Jadori or anyone. Do you think he’s a man given to exaggeration?’

‘He must be,’ said Gilwyn. ‘It was nothing, really.’

Minikin’s face grew cross. ‘Boy, why is it so hard for you to accept a compliment? He said you were brilliant and I know you were; I’ve seen you with the beasts. You have something special, Gilwyn. It’s something that needs to be nurtured.’

‘I’m not sure what you mean,’ said Gilwyn. ‘It comes naturally to me, that’s all.’

‘Remember when I said that it takes time to train the Inhumans to use their Akari? Well, I think we have waited on your own training long enough.’

A hopeful spark went off in Gilwyn. In the year since meeting Minikin, he’d been waiting to learn about his own Akari, a spirit the lady herself had given him when he was but an infant, marking him as one of her Inhumans. He knew that her name was Ruana, and that she had been with him since that day. But as many times as he’d begged Minikin to tell him more, the little woman deferred.

‘You mean you’ll show me Ruana? Finally?’ he asked.

‘Today I ride for Grimhold,’ said Minikin. ‘I will see to Carlan’s settling in, and then I will return.’

‘To teach me?’

Minikin became her inscrutable self again. ‘To talk to you about your gifts.’

‘Gifts? What gifts?’

The little woman turned and started back toward the waiting Carlan. ‘Do not think too much about it. When I return you’ll have plenty to fill up your mind. I will give White-Eye your regards when I see her. Now, will you fetch Lukien for me? We need to be off.’

‘Minikin, tell me more, please,’ Gilwyn implored, following her. ‘I’ve waited so long. Can’t you tell me anything now?’

‘Patience is a good thing for a regent, Gilwyn. I’ll be back soon. In three days or less.’ The little woman went to Carlan, took his hand, then led him toward their waiting kreels. The boy sensed the huge lizards at once, surprising them all by smiling. Minikin gave him over to one of the Jadori, who carefully hefted him onto a beast’s scaly back. When she was sure he was safe, Minikin turned expectantly on Gilwyn. ‘Gilwyn? Will you find Lukien for me?’

With a frustrated sigh Gilwyn put up his hands. ‘All right,’ he groaned, then went in search of the brooding knight.