The Devil's Armour (Gollancz S.F.) (75 page)

If that is what you think, then you may take off my armour and leave it in these woods, and have one arm again and be old again, and return to Grimhold to live with those fools and let Jazana Carr rape your homeland
.

Thorin struggled with the unbearable thought. ‘I cannot.’

Then you must trust me, Baron Glass. And you must not think of the boy or of the others again. Think only of your mission
.

‘No,’ said Thorin. ‘Do not crowd out all my memories. I will not allow it.’

There was quiet for a time, and for a moment Thorin could barely feel the Akari inside him. Finally, the figures in the armour lost their animation. The world around him began to refocus.

I must rest
, said Kahldris.
You must ride on to safety
.

Thorin nodded. It was not at all safe in Nith now. ‘Then give me your strength, demon. Let us ride from here.’

The sky above Andola’s castle was a bright, promising blue the day Count Onikil returned. He had been gone from the conquered city most of the winter, and was pleased to see Jazana Carr had done well in his absence. Gone were many of the burnt-out buildings, those husks that had littered the main streets and poisoned the business atmosphere. Gone also was every indication that Baron Ravel had once ruled here. There were no more of his mercenaries in the streets; now, only the Diamond Queen’s own hirelings could be seen in the taverns and whorehouses, spending all their gold while they waited for winter to end. Count Onikil kept his head high as he rode toward the castle. Like a hero he had returned from Norvor, an impressive trail of his own Rolgan soldiers behind him. Though tired and filthy from the long ride north, he managed to smile as he entered the city, hopeful that Jazana Carr could see him from the tower of her new home, the castle she had stolen from the now-dead Ravel.

It had been almost two months since Onikil had been back to Andola. Not long after they had taken they city, bad news had reached them from Norvor. Rodrik Varl – the Diamond Queen’s favoured man – had been prophetic. Just as he had predicted, rebellions had begun flaring up in Norvor. Without the constant presence of Jazana’s armies, the tenuous hold she had on her homeland had started to falter. Onikil’s own city of Rolga had fallen prey to an
ambitious warlord named Skorvis, a man who had expected to take over for Duke Rihards and who had been vocal in his disapproval when Onikil had been given the honour. While Onikil had been gone, helping Jazana win Andola, Skorvis had raised an army of his own and taken Rolga for himself. The same had happened in other Norvan cities. Onikil had been lucky. His sway with the Rolgan nobles had eventually countered Skorvis’ influence. The army he had brought south did the rest.

Now, weeks later, Skorvis was dead. After having his body cut into quarters and sending the parts throughout Norvor as a warning to other would-be usurpers, Onikil had at last returned to Andola. He was glad to be gone from Rolga. Though that city would always be his home, condors wheeled over it now and reconstruction would be slow. Because he had no wife or children, Onikil had no one in Rolga to miss. What he did miss – what he longed for more than anything – was the chance to serve the Diamond Queen and be remembered for his service. In all the time he had been away, Onikil worried constantly about those who had remained in Andola, whispering advice in Jazana Carr’s pretty ear, gaining her confidence day by day. Had he been the first to return from Norvor? He still did not know, and that was why he struggled to look proud against his body’s countless aches.

Still, Onikil was pleased by the progress he saw in Andola. The city was vastly improved by the looks of the commerce taking place. The stores were open again and vendors were in the streets, selling leather goods and winter vegetables and all manner of livestock to those who had flooded back into the city. Under Jazana Carr’s protection, Andola had come alive again. Onikil smiled as he trotted through the avenue. Merchants who recognised his banner began to rush up to his procession, offering them food and trinkets. An old woman forced an orange into his hand – a prized commodity this far north – and thanked him for keeping her safe. Though he had had nothing at all to do
with her safety, Onikil took the orange. As he sauntered closer to the castle, he peeled the fruit with his teeth and began to eat.

The castle, Onikil soon learned, was as crowded as the streets surrounding it. As he and his men entered the courtyard, he noticed throngs of horses and people from the nearby countryside mingling with the ever-present mercenaries and Norvan soldiers. Jazana Carr had freed Ravel’s slaves, but many of them had stayed on for paying jobs and now scurried through the yard on their way to the kitchens or stables. The common people – mostly peasants who tilled nearby farms – waited in queues for handouts of bread and cheese and other supplies, all purchased by the Diamond Queen. Onikil had seen similar sights throughout Norvor. It was Jazana Carr’s peculiar way of earning the people’s love, and for the most part it was working. Finally, she had heeded Rodrik Varl’s advice. Despite her itch to do so, she had not yet launched an attack on any other Liirian city, waiting instead for winter to pass and her toehold in this foreign land to become secure.

Onikil brought his horse to a stop and got down from the great beast. He ordered his men to do the same, then shouted angrily for a stablehand. A red-haired boy of perhaps thirteen hurried over when he heard the bellow, nodding agreeably as Onikil told him to see to the horses.

‘My men are tired, boy,’ he added. ‘They need food. See to it.’ He looked around with a disappointed smirk. ‘What is this mob? Where is everyone?’

‘It’s People’s Day,’ said the boy. He took the reins of Onikil’s horse. ‘The queen does this every week.’

Onikil glared at the boy. ‘People’s Day? And just what kind of abomination is that?’

The boy withered under the question. ‘People’s Day, my lord,’ he began to stammer. ‘A day—’

‘For the people, yes, I managed that much on my own.’ Onikil looked around and gave a doleful sigh. ‘Don’t stand there like a dunce, son. See to my men.’

With great relief the boy scurried off, calling to more of his ilk to come and aid him with the horses. Onikil’s men dismounted and waited for orders. All of them, including the count himself, were confused by the chaos in the yard. It irked Onikil that no one had come yet to greet him. He had sent word two days ago of his arrival and expected a better turnout than this. Jazana Carr, it seemed, was too occupied by her ghastly ‘People’s Day’ to thank him for his work in Norvor. The skin around Onikil’s collar began to prickle with hot anger. At last, he saw a familiar face approaching through the crowd. Rodrik Varl waved as he waded through the mass of farmers, each one shouting and stretching out his hands.

‘Onikil,’ Varl barked. ‘You’re back.’

The ruddy mercenary pushed his way forward to stand before the count. He looked older than he had just two months before, when they had taken the castle and when he himself had cut down Colonel Bern. It was said Varl thought the defeat of Bern little more than murder, and that he carried the guilt of it like a yoke.

‘Yes, I am back, for all the fuss you make of it,’ said Onikil. There was no bow from the mercenary, and the count didn’t expect one. Of all the men in Jazana Carr’s employ, though, Varl remained among the count’s favourites. Onikil pulled off his skin-tight riding gloves and looked around. ‘All this rabble. I thought I’d left it behind in Norvor. What a treat to have it here as well.’

Rodrik Varl laughed his thick laugh. ‘Back barely a moment and already complaining. Blue-blooded Rolgans don’t like to see common folks happy, I know. Better get used to it, Onikil.’

‘Hmm, yes, that dimwitted stableboy already told me. The queen does this every week?’

Varl nodded. ‘For the last month or so, yes. There’s word from Koth, you see. They’ve been building up their defences. Jazana wants these people on her side when the
time comes.’ The soldier furrowed his tangled eyebrows. ‘So? What news from Norvor?’

Onikil blew into his hands, which were already chilling in the nippy air. ‘Just as you said, bad news all around.’

‘You killed Skorvis, though. We heard about that.’

‘A trifling thing, really. Skorvis always thought too much of himself. Don’t worry about Rolga, Varl. It’s Carlion I worry about. Vicvar too, maybe.’

Varl grunted at the news. ‘Manjek hasn’t come back from Carlion yet. You have heard nothing from him? Or from Lord Gondoir?’

‘Just hearsay on the road,’ Onikil replied, trying to hide his pleasure. Besides Varl himself, Lord Manjek was his biggest competitor for the queen’s attention. And Manjek being stuck in Carlion made Onikil shine. ‘It is nothing we cannot handle. The queen moves too quickly, that’s all.’

‘Have I not been saying so? I tell her every day, Onikil.’

‘She still waits to move on Koth?’

‘She’ll have it no other way,’ said Varl. ‘She obsesses over it, and about Thorin Glass.’ For a moment jealousy flashed in his eyes. ‘This vendetta of hers – bad business.’

Onikil nodded. ‘Good that she waits, though. I had half expected you all to be gone by the time I got here.’

Varl’s red face broke into a smile. ‘We would have left a note for you, precious fellow. Odd that you should bring it up, though.’

‘What?’

‘Koth,’ said Varl. ‘The queen has some plans. And she’s glad to know you’re back. She wants to see you straight away.’

‘Does she?’ said Onikil pettily. ‘Then where is she?’

Varl made a mocking pout. ‘Oh, we should have had trumpets for you, is that it? Poor Onikil.’

Feeling his face turning red, Onikil said, ‘Just tell me where she is.’

‘Come along, then,’ said Varl, and led the way through the courtyard.

Jazana Carr was not far. Because it was People’s Day, Varl explained, she was on the other side of the courtyard in the castle’s main mess hall. The mess was across from the kitchens, the two separated by a covered walkway of old bricks meant to keep the kitchens from setting the rest of the castle on fire. Onikil didn’t eat in the mess with the mercenaries, so he had yet to be delighted by its greasy smells. As he stepped in from the walkway, he paused at the threshold to the mess, shocked to see it full of children. Runny-nosed brats with grubby faces filled the space, at least a hundred of them, sitting on the floors or stuffed two or three to a chair, all quietly enraptured by the voice of the woman across the room. There sat Jazana Carr with one of the children on her lap, a tiny girl who seemed uncomfortable with all the attention. In the queen’s hands rested a book, very old and overly large. Onikil’s mouth dropped open at the astonishing sight.

‘Is she reading them . . .
stories
?’

Varl didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to either. It was plain that the queen was reading to the children, and the animation in her eyes and voice told Onikil the rest. As she read, Jazana Carr swung her free hand in dramatic gestures, describing a storm and a witch riding through the clouds. The description of the witch made the children grimace and moan, but the Diamond Queen was quick to correct them.

‘No, no, it’s a good witch!’ she insisted. ‘Don’t believe everything your parents tell you, for Fate’s sake.’

Count Onikil stared in disbelief. Jazana Carr caught his eye, but only for a moment before quickly going back to reading. Onikil looked around, wondering what was happening. The queen, it seemed, had turned Ravel’s castle into a nursery.

‘Varl, what’s—’

‘Shh,’ Varl insisted. ‘Lower your voice. She’s almost done.’

‘Almost done? What is all this?’

‘People’s Day,’ said Varl, in a way that meant he didn’t
fully approve. ‘Jazana brings the children in from the countryside and reads to them while their families get food and supplies. She does it every week now.’

Onikil’s shock turned into a sly smile. ‘Ah, she’s a clever one. She knows how to make them love her.’

Rodrik Varl said nothing for a time. Then he shrugged. ‘Maybe.’

‘Why does she want to see me?’ probed Onikil. ‘You can tell her yourself about Rolga, or I’ll see her later. I’m tired and it can probably wait.’

‘Stay,’ said Varl. ‘She’ll be done soon.’

Being surrounded by children made Onikil shudder. He was a very neat man and unaccustomed to the dirt children seemed to manufacture. While he waited for the queen to finish he slipped back on his leather riding gloves.