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

by John Marco

  When they reached the outskirts of the city, Lorn spied the road leading up Library Hill. It was a good, wide avenue built of paving stones and lined with grey brick. Weeds had sprung up along the sides of the road, but the way itself seemed well-travelled. The various structures on the hill came quickly into view, including hastily constructed storage houses and stables, all probably built by Breck and his men. The great library itself soared above the other structures. From the base of the hill, Lorn craned his neck to see it all, marvelling at its grace. At the tip of its highest turret flew the flag of Liiria, blue and tattered, defying the rain. It was said that the library held all the knowledge of the world, and that no human mind could count the number of books and scrolls kept within its walls. It was said, too, that a great thinking machine had been built to contain all the ideas, built by the genius librarian Figgis to catalogue the massive collection. Was there really such a thinking machine, Lorn wondered? And if there was, what else could such a thing do?

  But these were questions for another day, and would never be answered unless his velvet tongue persuaded Breck to help him. For the first time since coming to Koth, Lorn felt afraid. He followed young Aric up toward the waiting library. The road wound its way around the hillside, giving different vistas of the horizon and highlighting the remarkable architecture of the place. As they drew nearer the pinnacle, Lorn saw for the first time the outlines of guardians posted near the entrance and pacing along the grounds. The library’s transformation into a fortress included arrow slits carved into the towers and a huge clearing near the large oak doors, which looked as if the hand of a giant had scooped away the trees and rocks to give the defenders of Koth a greater killing field. The doors themselves had been fortified with additional timbers which criss-crossed the portals, held in place by a cagelike mesh of stout metal. Iron bars covered the windows, while stacks of logs braced the lower portions of the walls. Men with pikes milled near the gatelike doors. Other men, similarly dressed in the garb of Royal Chargers, stood watch on high, newly made battlements and catwalks. The sight made Van give a low whistle.

  ‘Amazing,’ he murmured as he surveyed the work. ‘I’m impressed.’

  So too was Lorn, who hadn’t imagined the library so well defended. There was no doubt that its high perch gave it a great advantage, but Breck and his men had dedicated themselves to making the place impregnable.

  ‘It needs to be like this,’ said Aric. ‘There are only a couple of hundred of us, plus some others from the city who help with the chores and such. We take in as many people as we can. Just about anyone willing to help is welcome.’

  Tonight, the welcome included a call from the guards up ahead. Aric replied with a shout. The men with the pikes kept position near the doors while another of their party hurried forward.

  ‘Aric,’ he greeted. ‘It’s good that you’re back.’ He frowned at Lorn and Van. ‘Who are they?’

  ‘They’ve come to help,’ Aric explained. He reined in his horse and let his fellow Charger take the steed’s bridle. ‘This is Akan and his daughter. They’re from Norvor. He fought Jazana Carr.’

  The man nodded at Lorn. ‘You are welcome here, sir. Anyone accustomed to fighting that witch can surely lend us a hand.’ He peered through the rain at Van, started to smile, then groaned, ‘Great Fate Almighty. Vanlandinghale.’

  Lorn looked at Van. ‘You know this man?’

  Van’s face tightened as he said, ‘I do. Hello, Murdon. It’s been a while.’

  ‘Maybe not long enough,’ said the soldier. He was about Van’s age and carried himself with the same swagger. ‘I never thought you’d come back. What happened? Did Jazana Carr run out of gold?’

  ‘Call it a change of heart,’ said Van.

  ‘I should call it treason.’

  ‘Murdon, he wants to help us,’ said Aric. ‘We could use him. He was a Royal Charger.’

  ‘I know what he was,’ said Murdon. He continued to eye Van. ‘Where’s your uniform? Did you sell it?’

  Van patted his saddlebag. ‘Right here. I’m still a Royal Charger, Murdon. You heard the boy – we’re here to help.’

  ‘The old man and the baby, too?’ asked Murdon. Then he laughed and loosed a smile. ‘All right, no grudges. You’re welcome here, Van. We could use you. But Breck will want to see you first.’

  Lorn carefully got down from his horse. ‘Good, because I need to see him right away.’

  ‘Were you a colonel in Norvor, sir?’ joked Murdon. ‘Because you give orders like one.’

  ‘It’s important,’ said Lorn. He did his best to measure his tone. ‘Your commander will be interested in what I have to say about Jazana Carr.’

  As he dismounted, Van looked at Lorn strangely. ‘What are you talking about?’

  Lorn ignored him. He told Murdon, ‘It can’t wait. I need to see Breck tonight.’

  Murdon’s bottom lip twisted while he evaluated the stranger. ‘Maybe,’ he mused. ‘Breck will probably want to see you anyway. Leave the horses and come with me.’

  Lorn did as Murdon asked, and while he and Van followed Murdon and Aric toward the library, a guard at the door attended the horses while his comrade pulled back the timber barricading the door. Murdon and Aric helped him swing wide the huge towering portals, which had been made many times heavier by their reinforcements. Suddenly, the great library sprawled out before them, beckoning to Lorn as he stood on its threshold. An expansive ceiling glowing with lit torches vaulted overhead, the canopy a wide tunnel of plaster and ornate woodwork. As the doors shut behind them, the iron hinges sang like a musical instrument through the grand hall. A few soldiers – and even some women – paused to gape at the strangers, but mostly the hall was empty. The great hall split off into numerous directions, dazzling Lorn with its complexity. Murdon, however, knew his way perfectly and soon had taken them into an artery of the main chamber, where a ceiling of normal height and plain plaster reminded Lorn of his own modest castle in Carlion. Here the walls were mostly bare except for some ornately worked sconces and a tapestry depicting a group of scholars huddled over piles of dusty books. It was the only piece of art in the hall, and it struck Lorn that it had some value to Breck, who had obviously sold off all other such objects. Next to him Van seemed ill at ease, his eyes looking downward in embarrassment whenever they passed other soldiers. Lorn jabbed his elbow into Van’s chest.

  ‘Stand tall,’ he whispered.

  For a moment Van looked annoyed, but then he squared his shoulders and raised himself up.

  ‘Murdon, are you taking us to Breck?’ asked Lorn.

  ‘I’m going to tell him you’re here and that you want to speak with him,’ the soldier replied. Just then he reached an open room, an old study from the look of it. Murdon stopped at the room and bid Lorn and Van go inside. ‘Wait here,’ he told them. ‘Aric, come with me.’

  Murdon didn’t wait for them to ask more questions. With Aric on his heels he left and disappeared down the hall. Lorn looked at Van, then into the study. As he entered the smell of must and old parchments rushed up his nose. Everywhere in the room were old books and manuscripts, piled high on the big wooden desk and the plain chairs, even on the floor. A tall bookcase against the wall threatened to burst with papers. Lorn cleared off one of the chairs, then unstrapped Poppy from his back.

  ‘Not what I expected,’ he said. He took squirming Poppy from her harness and set her down on the chair, balancing her on her little feet. Van fingered through the books against the wall.

  ‘This is amazing. There are books here from all over the continent.’ He pulled one loose and thumbed the pages. ‘This one’s from Dreel. See? The words read from right to left.’

  Lorn grimaced as he patted Poppy’s bottom. ‘I think she’s wet.’

  ‘Of course she’s wet. It’s raining.’

  ‘That’s not what I mean.’

  Van lowered the book to the desk. ‘Oh. Well, wait till Murdon gets back. Maybe he can find someone to look after her. Did you s
ee how many women are here?’

  Lorn had noticed. It surprised him how many townspeople had come to aid Breck’s army. He said, ‘With luck one of them will be nursing,’ then wrapped Poppy tighter in her swaddling and cradled her as he sat down. An item on the desk quickly caught his attention. ‘What’s that?’ he asked, pointing his chin toward it.

  It was a collection of metal rods, each with a shiny silver ball on its end and each a little longer than the other. The rods radiated out like the spokes of a wheel.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Van. Curious, he pushed at one of the rods with his finger and watched happily as it revolved around its core. The action made him smile. ‘It’s like a toy. Do you think Reena can see it?’

  Lorn doubted it, but he held his daughter closer to it anyway. Van pushed at each of the rods one by one, sending them spinning, but Poppy’s sightless eyes didn’t bother tracking them. Seeing the disappointment on Lorn’s face, Van shrugged.

  ‘It doesn’t matter. I don’t even know what the damn thing is.’

  ‘It’s an orrery,’ a voice answered. Startled, both Lorn and Van looked toward the door where a kindly face shone back at them. The man was nearly Lorn’s age, and he clearly wasn’t a soldier. He wore no uniform, just a plain shirt and worn out trousers that gave him the look of a farmer. Age had stooped him and twisted his bones. He shuffled into the room with obvious effort.

  ‘Who are you?’ Lorn asked.

  ‘My name is Garthel. Murdon sent me to look after the little one. Do you know what an orrery is?’

  Lorn had to admit that he did not. He stared at the man uncertainly.

  ‘An orrery shows the movements of the heavens,’ Garthel explained. He went to the desk and pushed at the little orbs – which Lorn now realised were the planets – the way Vanlandinghale had. As they spun on their axes he beamed. ‘This was built by Figgis, the librarian who once ran this place. He was a man of much science.’ Garthel gestured to the books and manuscripts. ‘All these things were his.’

  Van waved his hand in front of his face as if the dust were too much for him. ‘Did you ever think of getting rid of some of this junk?’

  ‘Junk?’ exclaimed Garthel. ‘This isn’t junk, sir! This is all of great value. Nothing has been touched since we got to the library.’

  ‘Or cleaned,’ remarked Van.

  Lorn stood up. ‘You say you’re here to look after the child?’

  Garthel’s smile was warm. ‘That’s right,’ he cooed, looking at Poppy as he spoke. He poked a playful finger at her stomach, then looked up at Lorn. ‘Murdon told me you were waiting in here, and that you had a infant with you. My family can look after her for you while you speak with Breck.’

  ‘Your family? You mean your family lives here in the library?’

  ‘Something like that,’ said Garthel. ‘There are many of us, as you’ve probably noticed. We help out as we can, at least for the time that we’re here. My daughter can feed the little one. She can take care of – what’s her name?’

  ‘Reena,’ Lorn answered. ‘Your daughter – she’s nursing?’

  ‘She can feed your daughter for you,’ Garthel repeated. ‘Breck would want us to help you.’ He held out his hands. ‘If you’ll give the child to me . . .’

  Lorn didn’t move. ‘Your pardon, Garthel, but I’m confused. Who are you? I mean, what are you doing here?’

  The man’s expression remained kindly. ‘That’s a long story, friend, and there’s no time for telling it right now. Please trust me. No harm will come to the infant. We’ll get her cleaned and fed and let her rest. When you’re done with your business, she’ll be waiting for you.’

  It sounded like a good offer, and Lorn saw no reason to refuse. The man still vexed him, but Poppy needed cleaning and rest from her dreary journey, so Lorn handed her to Garthel. The man cradled her expertly, his face shining, then left the room. In his wake a hundred new questions sprang up. Lorn sat down, forcing himself to be patient. He looked at the model on the desk, the thing called the orrery, and wondered what Poppy’s reaction would have been if she weren’t blind.

  ‘This place is odd,’ remarked Van. He didn’t sit but rather leaned against the bookcase. He had his own troubles vexing him, evinced by his worried expression.

  ‘What’s odd?’

  ‘I think it’s strange that so many people would come to Koth’s defence. So many men and women, willing to wait here and die? They’re not even soldiers, some of them.’

  ‘Better to die in a just cause than to live on your knees,’ said Lorn. He looked directly at Van, searching for a reaction. Van merely nodded.

  It took longer than Lorn expected for Murdon to return, but when he did he had good news. From the threshold of the study he told Lorn and Van that Breck would see them.

  ‘Come along,’ he said gruffly, then turned and went back down the hall. Lorn and Van followed, but neither said a word. As they walked, Lorn rehearsed what he would say to Breck. Instinctively his hand fell down to his trouser pocket, where his fingers traced the outline of his ring, the only proof he could offer of his identity.

  He expected Murdon to lead them up into one of the library’s towers, but instead they went back into the great hall, took another of its tributaries into a ground-level wing, and eventually came to a stop near the entrance of a vast chamber filled with long, narrow tables similar to those in mess halls. These tables, though, were of rich wood and gave off a warm lustre in the torchlight. Bookcases filled with manuscripts lined the walls, reaching to the ceiling.

  A reading room, Lorn surmised. The vastness of the chamber made him feel small.

  Arranged in tidy rows, all of the tables were empty except for one. At the far end of the chamber was a table separated from the rest, near a window with open curtains providing a spectacular view of the city. On one side of the table sat a group of men, all of them soldiers and all dressed in the uniforms of Royal Chargers. Like jurors, they faced Lorn and the others as they entered the chamber, which had the unnerving silence of a church. One man, however, remained standing. With his back to the newcomers, he stood staring out the window. His hands were clasped behind his back in patient anticipation. The cut of his shoulders gave him the air of a general. No one spoke as Murdon led Lorn and Van forward, though the soldiers along the table eyed them with curiosity. Murdon made no introductions. He came to a halt a few paces from the table.

  It was the general who spoke first.

  ‘It’s very late,’ he said wearily, ‘and I awoke some of these men from a sound sleep. Why? Because I trust Murdon. He claims you have something important to tell me. Normally I would have waited until the morning, but I’ve been paranoid lately and since one of you is from Norvor I think I have good reason.’ At last he turned to reveal his fatigued face. ‘My name is Breck, commander of the garrison of Library Hill. Which of you is the Norvan?’

  Lorn stepped forward. ‘I am,’ he declared. ‘Captain Breck, I’m—’

  ‘So, you’re the deserter, then?’ Breck interrupted, looking straight at Van. ‘Murdon told me about you. He says you were a Royal Charger, a lieutenant.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Van, unperturbed. ‘I left Liiria when King Akeela died.’

  ‘When all of the country fell to ruin, you mean.’

  Breck’s words were meant to cut Van, but the younger soldier showed no emotion. ‘I left to make a living, Captain Breck. There was no living to be made in Liiria, so I sold my sword to Jazana Carr. But I’m back now.’

  ‘I should be glad to have you, I suppose,’ said Breck, ‘but I don’t like mercenaries. Listen to me carefully, Vanlandinghale – none of us are mercenaries. We’re soldiers, all of us. Even Aric Glass, who brought you here. He didn’t run out on Koth as you did. In my mind that makes him twice the soldier you are. So if you want to stay you’ll have to prove yourself to me. I don’t care how good you think you are with a sword, how brave or any of that nonsense. I value loyalty. That’s it.’

  Seated
at the end of the table, Aric Glass squirmed uncomfortably. Murdon nodded, taking a bit of pleasure in Van’s dressing down, while the other, nameless soldiers merely sat quietly.

  ‘I came back because I want to help,’ said Van. ‘That should count for something.’

  ‘It does,’ said Breck. ‘Do you know much about Jazana Carr?’

  Van nodded. ‘Some.’

  ‘Good.’ Finally, Breck turned his attention back to Lorn. ‘What about you, Norvan? Murdon tells me you fought against the Diamond Queen.’

  ‘Indeed I did. For sixteen long years.’ Steeling himself, Lorn reached into his pocket and pulled out his kingship ring, cupping it in his hand. ‘Captain Breck, what I’m about to tell you is going to sound unbelievable.’

  He moved toward the table, set down the ring, and pushed it toward the Liirian. The soldiers all looked at the bauble in confusion. Breck reached for the ring and inspected it, his brow wrinkling. Lorn watched him, watched as his tired eyes inspected the ring, flicking back and forth between it and its owner. There was suspicion in the old soldier’s expression.

  ‘Where did you get this?’ asked Breck.

  Lorn didn’t flinch. ‘It belongs to me. It’s been mine since I took it from King Mor.’

  There was a confused murmur among the men. Van looked at Lorn in surprise. ‘King Mor? How’d you get a ring from him, Akan?’ he asked.

  ‘This is a ring of kingship,’ said Breck. ‘King Mor ruled Norvor when Akeela first took the throne of Liiria. You say you’ve had it since then?’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Lorn evenly. He could tell Breck had already surmised his identity, and was now wondering if it were truly possible. ‘Captain, I was with King Mor during the massacre at Hanging Man. I took that ring from him myself.’ He took a breath, stood up straight, and said with all seriousness, ‘I am Lorn.’

  ‘What?’ erupted Van. Then he started laughing. ‘Akan, what are you doing? This isn’t a joke.’

  ‘No, it isn’t,’ said Lorn. He looked at the man who had become his friend and gave a wan smile. ‘Van, I never told you because I couldn’t risk it. But I am King Lorn, the one they call the Wicked. I’ve been on the run from Jazana Carr since she took Carlion. Reena is my daughter, Poppy.’