The Devil's Armour (Gollancz S.F.) (82 page)

‘It is Jadori armour, my queen,’ answered Count Onikil. He smiled, pleased with himself. ‘It is of a very fine make. I have looked at it closely.’

‘Indeed?’ Jazana Carr got up from her throne and descended the dais. Rodrik Varl shadowed her as she neared Thorin. She reached out a hand to touch the armour, a gesture that shocked Thorin. He stepped back quickly.
Amused by his fear, Jazana grinned. ‘Now come along, Thorin,’ she said. ‘You never feared my touch before.’

He held up his hand – his genuine, right hand – and said, ‘That time has passed, Jazana.’

His rebuke stopped her cold. In plain sight of everyone, they simply stared at each other. Her breath fell warm on his face. Varl was looking at them, his face furious. The abject jealousy made Kahldris laugh; Thorin’s brain rang with the evil sound.

Look at her
! the demon sang.
Look how she craves you
!

Cravings swamped Thorin suddenly – for blood, for power, for the conquest of a woman . . .

Enough, Kahldris
! he silently screamed.
Do not force these feelings on me
!

Jazana pursed her pretty lips. ‘You are much changed, Thorin,’ she said, studying his face. ‘The Jadori . . . this armour . . . It has all made you bold.’

Was she glad he had come? Her tone hinted at pleasure.

‘I have come for the good of Liiria, Jazana.’ Thorin stood his ground as best he could, though his hand ached to loose his sword. ‘Let us talk. Please . . .’

He couldn’t kill her and didn’t know why. Jazana nodded, their game over.

‘We will talk,’ she agreed. The audience finally began breathing again. ‘Rest, Thorin. Tomorrow we will have much to discuss.’ There was no triumph in her eyes, only a soft relief. ‘You are brave to have come here alone.’

The compliment surprised Thorin – but he knew it wouldn’t save her. At last he gave her the bow she so much desired.

‘Thank you, Jazana,’ he said, never taking his eyes off her.

Jazana gestured toward his arm. ‘What of that? You wear a wooden arm now?’

It was small talk – something to diffuse the tension. Grateful for it, Thorin nodded.

‘A fake, yes,’ he said. ‘The armour fits better with it.’

A flash of understanding passed between them. Even with one arm, she had called him her tiger in bed.

‘It suits you,’ said Jazana. ‘You seem . . . more whole.’ She turned and went back to her throne. Sitting down on it again, she looked uncomfortable this time. ‘Rodrik will take you to your chambers,’ she told Thorin. ‘I’ll send for you tomorrow. Count Onikil, remain with me, please. We have much to talk about.’

Varl stepped forward unhappily, gesturing toward the exit. ‘Come on, Thorin,’ he said thickly.

Thorin gave Jazana a last glance before heading for the doors. He had been so close; he could have killed her in an instant. But he was glad he hadn’t done so yet. There was one thing he wanted before taking her life.

He would have it tonight.

That night, Jazana Carr found sleeping impossible. She had left the throne room shortly after meeting Thorin, leaving her underlings to deal with Count Onikil and his tedious reports. Instead of eating her midday meal with Rodrik, as was their custom, she had declined company entirely for the seclusion of her own chambers, where her body servant, Habran, massaged her skin and rubbed her feet with oil while she reclined in the enormous bathtub. Her chambers had once belonged to Ravel himself, and the bathtub was the same one the baron had killed himself in. At first Jazana had been repulsed by the place but soon Ravel’s lavish good taste had won her over, and she had learned to adore the opulent rooms. Tonight, she needed the comforting confines. There was much on her mind, much she had never expected to feel again. As Habran worked the aches out of her muscles, Jazana tried to quiet her troubles.

After her long bath Rodrik had come to see her, to tell her that he had found rooms for Thorin on the ground floor and had seen to all his needs. Her loyal bodyguard curbed his jealousy as best he could, but the taint of it burned in his expression. Refusing to speak further about Thorin, Jazana dismissed Rodrik for the night. Wearing only her sleep gown and robe, she went out onto the fabulous balcony with a cup of tea, dismissing the rest of her servants with orders not to disturb her. She remained on the balcony until very late, watching Andola drift off to
sleep but unable to feel tired herself. An hour after she had finished her tea, she was still on the balcony, afraid to go to bed.

Thorin had surprised her. She had hoped he was alive, but had never guessed he would come to her again. He wanted peace; that much was clear. But did he want something else? She feared to hope it. Rodrik had been so good to her, so kind. He had struggled mightily to take Thorin’s place, but the task had been impossible and she had never deigned to take him to her bed.

Her bed had seemed so empty lately.

Jazana pulled the robe closer around her shoulders, staving off the chill. Spring had come with boldness, but the nights were still long and always bore a cool breeze. But Ravel had built a lovely hearth of polished stone in his bedchamber and her servants had already lit a fire there for her. She had seen them sneaking in and out to tend to it, sure that she would want it when ready.

Good pay makes good servants
, thought Jazana as she left the balcony. It was almost midnight and tomorrow would be an important day. Wanting to be fresh for her talk with Thorin, she went into her bedchamber, disrobed, and slid into the fabulously soft sheets.

Jazana slept.

As the hours ticked towards dawn, the fire in her hearth died to a warm glow. Comfortable in Ravel’s enormous bed, Jazana dreamed of Norvor and her younger days. She did not sleep soundly, but rather danced on the edges of sleep, her mind actively mulling mental pictures. She had lost all sense of time but was dimly aware of the fire’s crackle. Sounds reached her ears as if from a great distance, familiar and of no concern.

Until she heard a sound she did not recognise.

Her eyelids fluttered heavily. Her mind worked on the noise. A scraping sound, like boots on stone. Footfalls . . .

Jazana awakened and sat up in her bed. Shadows painted
the enormous room. Moonbeams through her window made yawning images on the walls. Jazana looked around, her eyes darting toward the doorway. She saw a shadow there and stared at it, her heart racing. Vaguely like a man, she could not quite tell in the darkness if it moved or stayed still. Then, the sound of nervous breathing reached her.

Amazingly, she grew less alarmed. The man in the doorway stared. A fabulous darkness sparkled off his left arm, encased in a metal that swallowed all light. In her half-awake state Jazana thought she might yet be dreaming.

‘Thorin . . .’

Like a wraith he floated closer, stepping into the moonlight. He had doffed his armour but for the arm that flashed in brilliant black. She caught his expression in the light, an anguished mix of pain and lust. His eyes flared with hunger, revealing a soul that wasn’t his. Jazana gasped. She should scream, she knew, but did not. Too enthralled with the impossible sight, she let Thorin drift ever closer.

‘
Jazana
.’

The voice was his, and yet was not. Like his face, it seemed possessed. He came to her bedside and hovered there, dropping a knee onto the sheets and leaning toward her.

‘I’ve come for you,’ he whispered. ‘I cannot be without you tonight.’

Jazana barely breathed. ‘Thorin, you should not have come.’ It made no sense to her suddenly. How could he have made it to her bedroom? ‘Have you come just for this? Just for me?’

‘I came to . . .’ His face twisted in a grimace of pain. ‘No,’ he struggled. He reached out for her. ‘I need to touch you.’

It was his armoured arm that reached for her. His missing arm. Jazana gasped.

‘Your arm! Thorin, what has happened to you?’

‘Shh,’ he urged gently. ‘Don’t speak.’ The black gauntlet reached out to brush her cheek. ‘Let me touch you.’

Never had Jazana felt anything so cold. Or was it burning
hot? Her skin trembled at the touch of the odd metal. It melted her.

‘Thorin,’ she whispered, ‘what has happened to you?’

Thorin stalked onto her bed. ‘I need to be a man again. I have not been a man in so long.’

The metal arm pulled her closer. Jazana succumbed to it, bending her head for him as his hungry mouth found her neck. His lips suckled her, tasting her skin and moaning with its sweetness. Jazana’s head swam with a strange intoxication. This was not the spell of sleep, she knew, but a wondrous thing that sang in her mind and bent her to his will. As his desperate hands found her breasts Jazana could no longer speak. Her mouth moved wordlessly as he tore her nightgown open and fell upon her.

Somehow, throughout the thrusting and glorious release, Jazana knew it was more than lovemaking. In the black fog that wrapped her, she saw visions.

It was not until dawn that the fever lifted.

Thorin’s groggy mind came awake to the sense of sunlight through the window. His skull throbbed. Sheets tangled his naked body. Sprawled across his right arm was Jazana, just as nude, her ruined nightgown clinging to her in shreds. He felt her breathing and knew she was dully awake, struggling through the same magic mist that clogged his own brain. Her face glanced up at the ceiling, barely visible in the dim light of morning. She did not speak, but seemed to sense his wakefulness. Her head rested in exhaustion on a pillow, its silk casing torn by the spikes of his armoured arm. Duck feathers spilled across the bed.

They lay there, naked with each other, and were silent.

The possession that had taken Thorin had faded. The sated Kahldris now rested easily in his mind. Thorin could sense the demon’s satisfaction. For a night, he had been a man again, and in his lust had shown Thorin a truer meaning of life and power. It was as if Thorin had drunk from the cleanest water or had breathed the freshest air. He
was changed now and he knew it, and was not at all sorry that Kahldris had swallowed him.

Why, he wondered, did it all seem so clear now?

Unbridled, his lust for Jazana had been a magnificent thing. He had seen what he wanted and had taken it. There could be no stopping him, he realised. That was the lesson Kahldris had shown him.

Yes
, came the Akari’s voice.
There is no reason to stop, Baron Glass
.

Thorin could not answer. The unearthly lovemaking had weakened him, but he was blissful and did not care. Kahldris was too much a part of him now. He welcomed the being’s touch. Slowly he turned his head toward Jazana. Her tousled hair looked beautiful. Her perfect skin, not stretched by childbirth, shone milky white in the sunlight. With his armoured hand he touched her, caressing her smooth belly. A whimper drifted from her lips.

‘Why, Thorin?’

Thorin smiled, but how could he answer such a thing?

‘What happened to you?’ Jazana whispered. ‘To us?’

‘Magic, my love.’

She nodded. ‘Magic . . .’

‘Akari magic.’ Thorin propped himself up to look at her. ‘This armour makes me more than a man, Jazana.’ He opened the palm of his gauntlet and placed it down on her belly. ‘Do you feel it?’

‘It’s alive,’ Jazana said. ‘I felt it inside me. It was . . . amazing.’

Thorin smiled. ‘Do not fear it, Jazana. I feared it once, but no longer. It has made me whole again, and brought me back to you.’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Jazana desperately. ‘Just yesterday—’

‘Yesterday I was different. A fool. The armour has shown the truth to me.’

Jazana’s expression betrayed her fear. ‘Thorin, this
armour has done something to you. You are different, even this morning.’

‘I
am
different,’ Thorin declared. ‘I am better.’

‘Because of me? Because of what we did?’

Was that it, Thorin wondered? What had their lovemaking loosed? He was one with Kahldris now. Was this how all Inhumans felt? He could not say for certain, and Kahldris would not help him with the puzzle. Thorin leaned back against the headboard and let out a lionlike sigh. His eyelids grew heavy again as he tasted the delicious power. For the first time in weeks he saw Kahldris standing in front of him.