The Sword Of Angels (Gollancz S.F.) (68 page)

Ruana stepped between Gilwyn and the demon in the boat. ‘You’re already growing weaker, Kahldris. I can feel it. How much will it exhaust you to construct this charade?’

‘I will sleep for a week, but it will be worth it,’ laughed Kahldris. ‘Little girl, do you really think you can protect him? I am so much stronger than you. I was a summoner! What are you but a pretty face?’

‘Go,’ commanded Ruana. ‘Your words are meaningless. We do not hear them.’

‘Oh, I think young Gilwyn is listening,’ said Kahldris, peeking past Ruana. ‘Aren’t you, boy? You’re afraid. That’s good. Embrace your fears! They will keep you safe.’

‘Gilwyn, don’t listen to him,’ said Ruana. ‘He’s trying to make you doubt yourself. But he can’t harm you.’

‘Ruana, child, why would you lie to him like that?’ asked Kahldris. He rose, stretching to his full height without rocking the boat at all. ‘I can reach out my fingers and reach you wherever he goes. I can haunt his dreams and make his life an unending nightmare.’ Kahldris turned his mad eyes on Gilwyn. ‘I can hurt him just like I hurt his precious White-Eye.’

‘You stinking piece of filth,’ raged Gilwyn. ‘White-Eye is still alive. You can’t hurt her anymore!’

‘Alive, yes,’ crooned Kahldris. ‘And bumbling around in the dark like an animal, like all the rest of you wretched Inhumans. You may call that a life if you wish, but what does White-Eye think of it?’

His words tore at Gilwyn, shaking his will. Ruana sensed this and pushed Gilwyn backward.

‘You don’t like to be challenged, do you Kahldris?’ she crowed. ‘You can’t stand the thought of Gilwyn breaking your hold over Glass.’ She laughed straight in Kahldris’ face. ‘Don’t be afraid of him, Gilwyn. He can’t do anything to you! He would have done it already if he could.’

‘I can ruin you, Gilwyn,’ warned the Akari.

‘But you won’t,’ challenged Ruana. ‘Because Baron Glass would know if you did, and he would never stand for that. That’s it, isn’t it, Kahldris? That’s why you’re here to frighten us off.’

Kahldris’ face contorted horribly. ‘You arrogant little bitch . . .’

‘We’re coming, demon,’ said Ruana. ‘We’re going to avenge what you’ve done. And you can’t stop us.’

‘White-Eye never did a thing to you,’ sneered Gilwyn. ‘She was kind and good and you hurt her. Why? To get to me?’

Kahldris lifted his eyebrows. ‘Are you clever enough to figure this out? Don’t listen to Ruana, Gilwyn. I am not afraid of you. Nothing can break my hold over Baron Glass, certainly not a whelp like you. When you come to Koth, you will see what I have done to Baron Glass, the control I have over him.’

‘Why then? You attacked White-Eye to get to me, to lure me north. That’s right, isn’t it?’

‘That can’t be it,’ said Ruana. ‘He’s afraid of you. He’s just trying to scare you off.’

‘Kahldris, tell me what you want of me.’

‘Gilwyn, no!’ snapped Ruana. She turned and grabbed his arm. ‘Don’t bargain with him.’

Kahldris laughed in delight. ‘Such a riddle! Are you smart enough for it, Gilwyn? Can you unravel this great mystery?’

‘I don’t know.’ Gilwyn staggered back. ‘Ruana . . .’

Ruana angrily kicked a boot full of sand at Kahldris. ‘Go! Go back to whatever slime spawned you, Kahldris! Get out of our minds!’

‘Think about it, Gilwyn,’ said Kahldris calmly. ‘If you help me, you may save the baron.’

‘What is it?’ pleaded Gilwyn. ‘Tell me.’

Kahldris tapped his ghostly head. ‘Think.’ Then he smiled again. ‘You have time, boy. Too much time. The way you limp to Koth is appalling.’

‘Don’t listen to him, Gilwyn,’ said Ruana. ‘He’s just taunting you.’

‘But why?’ Gilwyn asked. ‘Kahldris, tell me what you want.’

‘That’s for you to figure out, Gilwyn Toms,’ said the demon. ‘I will be in Koth, waiting for you.’

Kahldris sat down again and picked up the oars of his boat. With one great pull of the oars the little vessel left the shore, floating swiftly back into the mist. Gilwyn watched it disappear, bearing away all his answers. His hands trembled. Ruana stood mutely beside him, her face troubled and afraid. Neither of them spoke until they were sure Kahldris was gone.

‘That was very stupid of you, Gilwyn. You let Kahldris in to your thoughts.’

‘I know,’ said Gilwyn. ‘I’m sorry. But he wants something of me. He wants me to come north.’

‘He’s afraid of you, Gilwyn. I could sense it.’

Gilwyn let the mists collect around him. It was just as Kahldris had said – a great mystery.

Eight men and a woman gazed at the city, mantled by dusk, rising from the desert and shimmering with heat. A soaring white wall rose up from its centre, protecting the pretty minarets and the golden towers of the palace that looked down like a sentinel across the flowered lanes. Beyond the white barrier sprawled a shanty town, crowded and mismatched, its ugly homes like discarded bones tossed over the wall. The spires of the city blinked with candlelight, while in the town at its feet oily campfires burned and sputtered up smoke. The travelers, who had come from many miles away, looked exhaustedly at the city. For none of them did the place meet their expectations. Looking hard, they saw people huddled in the avenues of the broken homes outside the wall. Children played with filthy dogs. In the towers, music called the faithful to prayer, but the folk of the shanty town ignored the call, for they were not of this place at all but rather foreigners of hard luck who had come across the desert to find only disappointment.

Princess Salina had been warned about all of these things. Yet somehow, her expectations had been grander. She had heard from Gilwyn Toms about the foreigners camped outside of Jador, how they had come from the northern world for the magic of Grimhold and how there had been no room for them within the walls. Once, Jador had easily absorbed the northerners, back in the days when they had all been merchants and well-off enough to pay for their homes. But in the days since Grimhold’s discovery, the exodus across the desert had swelled the foreigners ranks, breaking Jador’s finances and forcing the ugly situation Salina now witnessed. The princess looked at the city without saying a word. She had traveled for three days through the Desert of Tears, leaving Aztar’s camp and the man she loved. Her gaka clung to her unbathed body, caked in dust and heavy with sweat. Her drowa, like all of the beasts, drooped from the long ride. And the men of her party, all Voruni men assigned by Aztar to protect her, stared quizzically at the city they had once battled, remembering the great fire that had killed so many of their brethren.

Adnah pulled his drowa to a stop, holding up his arm so that the others did the same. Salina rode up next to him and paused. She had become expert in guiding the huge beast, a latent talent that surprised her. She was quiet as she let Adnah have his moment of reflection, noting her guide’s troubled expression. Adnah had returned to Jador because it was what his master Aztar wished, but he had no love for the place, and like so many of the Voruni he feared the city’s magical population. It was the Jadori wizards who had summoned the fire that had burned Aztar, an event that still haunted the boldest of his warriors.

‘You see?’ said Adnah with a grimace. ‘The northerners – they live like pigs outside the white wall. They are like slaves to the Jadori. They have no pride at all.’

‘They are forced to live like that,’ said Salina, though she knew her argument would do no good. Adnah was loyal to Aztar and did everything his master ordered, but he had made up his mind about northerners a long time ago. ‘They came here for a better life,’ Salina continued.

‘That’s why you helped them?’ asked Adnah. ‘Because you think they deserve such a life? You are a kind girl, Princess. Misguided, though.’ The Voruni man smirked. ‘Northerners have no soul. See how they ignore the prayer calls?’

Salina refused to be baited. ‘If you’re afraid to go further, I can make the rest of the way myself.’

‘Afraid?’ Adnah looked over his shoulder to his men, laughing. ‘No, Princess, I am not afraid. I merely meant to educate you. Aztar has sent you here for your protection. He is wise and knows what he is doing. But you should be wary of this place and its people.’

‘Thank you for warning me, Adnah,’ said Salina dryly. ‘I’ll remember your counsel.’

At every turn, Adnah reminded her why they had come, but Salina had never wanted to leave Aztar. He had insisted, because he knew that her father would soon return with an army to reclaim her, and he was sure that the powerful people of Jador could protect her. Salina had protested – pleaded, in fact – but Aztar had made up his mind and sent her away. It had broken her heart to leave him at the camp, but Salina relented for only one reason – the people of Jador owed her a favour. Now, it was time to collect.

‘Let’s hurry,’ she told Adnah and the others. ‘Before the sun is gone completely.’

‘How will we get beyond the wall?’ asked Adnah. ‘Have you thought of that, Princess?’

‘Adnah, I am a Princess of Ganjor,’ she pointed out proudly. ‘I have only to ask and the doors will open.’

White-Eye put her hands to Minikin’s elfish face, a form of greeting she had learned in the darkness of her blindness. She felt the sharp ridges over Minikin’s eyes, the smooth, knowing brow, the turn of the lips curled in a cool smile, and the knowledge of the Mistress’ face came to her like sight itself. White-Eye grinned, perfectly happy. She had not spoken with Minikin in months, not since the little woman had given her over to King Lorn. It had been an a difficult situation, but a necessary one, and it had pained both of them to be apart.

‘I have missed you so much,’ said White-Eye, barely able to contain her emotions. Her fingertips paused on Minikin’s cheeks. ‘I wondered everyday when you would come.’

Minikin reached up and stroked her hair. White-Eye could feel the sensation of her small fingers, soft and familiar, as gentle as a mother’s. The mistress pulled White-Eye’s hand to her mouth and kissed it.

‘I came when I thought I should come,’ she said. ‘When I thought you would understand.’ A paused. ‘You do understand now, yes?’

‘Yes,’ said White-Eye, fine with the explanation. ‘I know you did what you had to do.’

Through her fingertips she felt relief on the ancient lady’s face. Minikin had worried, that was plain. White-Eye had heard it in her voice that day, when she had turned her over to Lorn. For a brief time afterward, White-Eye had wandered in the deepest pain, asking again and again why Minikin had abandoned her, leaving her in the hands of the northerner. But she had never hated Minikin for it, because her love for the mistress was unshakeable. Then, gradually, she began to understand.

Minikin had come unannounced to Jador, catching White-Eye alone in the garden outside the private wing where her chambers were located. Evening had come, releasing White-Eye from the confines of the palace. With the sun gone, she could at last enjoy the fresh air and honey scents of the garden, sitting beneath the gentle light of the stars while a fountain gurgled nearby. Lorn had left her for the day, eager to spend time with his daughter, and White-Eye had dismissed her servants, confident now in her ability to find her way around. But she had heard Minikin’s light footfalls on the garden path, a sound that struck a chord deep inside her.

‘Trog?’ she asked, facing the direction where she heard the big man breathing. ‘You’re here, yes?’

‘He’s here,’ said Minikin.

White-Eye smiled. ‘I can hear him. I can hear everything, Minikin. It’s like a whole new world! Trog, come and let me touch you.’

The giant gave a reluctant grunt, then shuffled toward the Kahana’s outstretched hands. White-Eye reached high to touch his face. Rough and rock hard, it was so much different from touching Minikin’s sweet face.
Finding his mute lips, she kissed her own fingertip and delivered the kiss to the bodyguard. Trog nodded affectionately.

‘Trog, it’s good to see you, too,’ said White-Eye, knowing the greeting the big man would deliver if he could speak. He had always been kind to the slight White-Eye, towering over her like the shelf of a mountain. When Trog was around, White-Eye never felt afraid. She released him, then turned her smile toward Minikin. ‘But I wasn’t expecting you! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I could have had a meal ready for you, something special.’

‘We haven’t come for food, child, but to see you,’ Minikin said cheerfully. ‘We’ll eat later. For now, it’s just good to look at you.’ Another pause. ‘You look well, daughter. So like a grown woman! Ah, but you are Kahana now. Truly.’

‘I’ve worked hard, Minikin,’ said White-Eye. ‘Lorn has taught me many things. And the others, too. They have all taught me things. You see? I am not afraid to be alone anymore.’

‘I did see that,’ said Minikin proudly. ‘When they told me you were alone here . . . well . . .’ A crinkling sound revealed her shrugging shoulders. ‘You have changed, White-Eye.’

White-Eye felt her face flush with pride. ‘Come inside,’ she said. ‘Let’s talk.’

‘Yes, we should talk,’ agreed the mistress. ‘But not inside. You love the night, I know. Let’s walk, White-Eye. You can guide me.’

Along the lanes around the palace, White-Eye and Minikin strolled amid the fruit trees and burgeoning flowers. Trog kept pace with them, but kept back a comfortable distance, giving both women a sense of privacy. Because of the lateness of the hour, the palace’s gardeners and grounds keepers had all disappeared, leaving the many patches of grasses and winding lanes alone for them to enjoy. Minikin held White-Eye’s hand as they walked, but White-Eye did not guide her through the lanes as Minikin had requested. Instead, White-Eye quickly fell back into old habits, so comfortable with Minikin that she let the tiny woman act like a parent, directing her along. The talk between them was casual, mostly trivial topics like the heat of the day or how well the hibiscus had bloomed this year, but White-Eye knew the conversation would soon turn. She could sense trepidation in Minikin’s tone, a kind of cautiousness just waiting for the proper time.

‘There’s a bench near here, I think,’ said White-Eye. ‘Do you see it?’

Her father, Kadar, had made the palace grounds a sanctuary for the people of the city, a place where all could enjoy the trees and fragrant greenery carefully coaxed out of the dry desert. He had spent a fortune building shaded knolls where lovers could sit and talk and families could
play with their children. He was a remarkable man, and like all of Jador, White-Eye missed him. So did Minikin, who spoke often of her old friend.

‘There,’ said Minikin, spying the bench. ‘We’ll sit a while.’

White-Eye remembered the bench from the time she could see, a pretty slab of stone big enough for three, situated beneath an over-hanging willow. When she was a girl, the bench had been her favourite, a place to sit and people-watch or to lean back and stare into the myriad limbs of the great tree. Letting Minikin guide her to it, she reached down and felt its smooth stone before setting herself down upon it. Minikin hopped onto the bench next to her. Trog came to a halt a few paces away. White-Eye heard his big feet stop in the gravel. Minikin sat quietly, her own feet barely reaching the ground. White-Eye waited patiently for her to begin. After a few moments more, the mistress spoke.

‘Quiet,’ she remarked.

White-Eye nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘Things could have been chaos here,’ said Minikin. ‘But you have done a good job, White-Eye. The people love you and respect you. So many troubles, but even the northerners outside the wall are well.’

‘It is Lorn,’ White-Eye explained, giving the northern king his due. ‘He is like a bull drowa, Minikin. He never rests. And the others from the north know this. They trust him, because he is one of them.’

‘And he has been good to you? Not too unkind?’

White-Eye’s grin widened. ‘Ah. Now I think I see. Is that why you have come? To make sure I am unharmed?’

She felt Minikin’s small hand slip onto her thigh. ‘Am I so obvious?’ She laughed. ‘All right, yes. I’m just an old woman, full of worries! When I sent him to you I was unsure what to expect. Put me at ease, daughter – tell me he has treated you well.’

‘He has, Minikin,’ White-Eye assured her. ‘It was hard at first. He has a will of iron, and no one can make him bend. I did try!’

‘I can’t imagine tears getting to him.’

‘They did not. But he was gentle in his own way. He has pushed me, Minikin, but he has made me change.’ White-Eye turned to the mistress hopefully. ‘Can you tell?’

‘Yes,’ said Minikin. ‘You have grown so much. You are your father’s daughter! He would be proud of you.’

Thinking of her father again made White-Eye wistful. It was a generous compliment, but she knew she was really nothing like her father. Kahan Kadar had built everything around them. He was a man of great vision, something the blind Kahana could never be, and not just because she couldn’t see. Men like her father were rare, both lion-hearted and deeply kind. She might try to be like him – did, in fact, try with all her might – but she was sure she would always fall short of his mark.