by John Marco
The dismissal made Aric bristle. ‘Yes, my lord, I’ll go to Nith and make the peace between you. But you must promise me in return that you will let Mirage go.’
‘You’re talking to the king,’ rumbled Corvalos Chane. ‘Mind your tone, boy.’
‘You have your father’s arrogance, Aric Glass,’ said Raxor. ‘You’ll have to do better to persuade me.’
Aric pushed past his fear, using the only weapon he could. ‘I can’t make you give her up. I know that, King Raxor. But my father loves this woman. If he knew you were holding her he would come for her.’ He waited for his words to take hold. ‘He would, and you would not be able to stop him.’
Raxor rose a bit from his chair, then stopped himself with a monumental effort. ‘You threaten me?’
‘I tell you only the truth. Give her up, my lord, or she will be your doom.’
‘After all I’ve done for you . . .’
‘My lord knows I take no joy in this,’ said Aric. He pointed at Mirage. ‘She fought alongside us at the library. She deserves better than to be your concubine.’
‘Aric, he has not harmed me,’ Mirage explained. ‘He has never once touched me.’
‘And that’s enough for you?’ Aric railed. ‘We fought for freedom at the library! And now you surrender yourself for the sake of a warm bed and some food?’
‘Where else will I go? I have no one and nothing!’
‘Enough,’ ordered Raxor. He put up both his hands, begging for silence. ‘Enough.’ The old man finally stood finally. Again he took the girl’s hand. ‘Child, Aric speaks the truth. If Baron Glass learns you are here, he will come to find you, and I cannot have his vengeance fall on Hes.’
Mirage reared back. ‘My lord, are you releasing me?’
‘If that’s what you wish,’ said Raxor. It was plain he regretted his choice, and Aric regretted making him choose it. There was real tenderness in Raxor’s eyes as he held Mirage’s hand. ‘If you stay, I will defend you. Not only against Asher and the others, but against Baron Glass, too. But if you wish to go, I can’t keep you. Not anymore.’
It was not what Mirage expected to hear. For a long moment she was silent. Then she nodded and backed away. ‘But nothing has changed. I still have nowhere to go.’
‘Then stay,’ said Raxor. ‘You’ve never been my slave. You know that.’
‘Go, Mirage,’ Aric urged. ‘Lukien wouldn’t want this for you.’
‘Wouldn’t he?’ asked Mirage bitterly. ‘Lukien would not care, Aric. He never cared for me. He wanted me out of his hair. Nothing more.’
‘You’re infuriating,’ Aric seethed. ‘You let Lukien go without a goodbye. You threatened to go to my father, even after you saw what he did. And now this? You’d rather stay here than be free? You learned nothing at Koth. Not from Lukien or Breck or anyone. This whole thing is demented.’
‘Aric, you don’t understand . . .’
‘I don’t. You’re right. And I don’t care. Keep your secrets, woman. You’ve been no help to anyone ever. All you care about is yourself.’
‘Watch yourself now,’ Raxor warned.
But Aric did not back down. ‘My lord, keep her. Do what you want with her. But be warned – she is a selfish harpy who will bring no good to you. She could have told you about the armour – she still can! But she refuses.’ He scowled disgustedly at all of them. ‘I’m going back to Nith. I’ll leave in a day or so. I’ll tell Prince Daralor that you’re making ready to join him, and when Lukien returns we’ll come back, King Raxor. I’ve done my part. I’m done with all of you.’
Then, to the shocked faces of them all, Aric turned and left the gallery. Not even sure where he was going, he let his anger carry him away, back down the hall and into the meandering unknown of Gilorin Court.
37
Just as he had promised, Aric Glass left Gilorin Court two days after his arrival, leaving Mirage alone again, with no one from her past life to remind her of the things she had left behind. Aric had made a terrible impression on her, however, and in the days since his leaving his accusations haunted Mirage, preventing her from enjoying the serenity of Raxor’s estate. By the time five more days passed, all the nobles had left Gilorin Court, but King Raxor had remained, keeping to himself and taking his meals privately, never again asking Mirage about the secrets she harboured.
For the first time in weeks, Mirage felt safe. Without Raxor’s family and all their suspicious glares, she felt at home and at ease amid the genteel court. More importantly, Asher was miles away, and no one threatened her with prison or even spoke the madman’s name. They were good days, or at least there should have been, but Mirage could not escape the things Aric had said to her, and soon she realized how right he had been. The time had come for her to make a bold decision.
As usual, Corvalos Chane kept watch over Mirage, shadowing her through Gilorin’s gardens and hovering nearby during meals. Though the danger was far less now that she’d left Hes, Chane continued taking his charge to protect her seriously, a duty that Raxor had yet to relieve him of. Raxor himself saw very little of Mirage, passing by her politely in the halls or along the flowered lanes but never once coming to her rooms to check on her or to have one of their long, pleasant conversations. Surprisingly, Mirage missed the old man. He was in mourning still, and the cloud that followed him everywhere never seemed to lift from his face. Mirage waited patiently for him to come, but the old king never did, and by the afternoon of their eighth day together, she decided to go to him herself.
Raxor was in a woodlot about half a mile from the main house, alone among the trees with an axe in his hands and sweat pouring from his wrinkled face. At Mirage’s request, Corvalos Chane had ridden her out to the lot to speak to Raxor. The ground around his booted feet rose high with wood chips and poorly stacked lumber. Lost in thought and the noise from his swinging axe, he did not hear Chane’s horse arrive or Mirage’s light footfalls as she approached. Corvalos Chane dismounted but kept back from the king, hidden behind a stout sycamore tree. He kept a watchful eye on Mirage as she made her way toward Raxor, her feet crunching on the dead leaves. Ahead of her, Raxor swung his axe, oblivious. Shards of wood flew from the timbers. Each time one gave way beneath his axe, he stooped to place another on the stump he used like an anvil. Mirage paused a few paces away, sure now that the king had seen her. Raxor glanced at her, but only for a moment, then went back to working his axe.
‘My lord . . .’
‘Wait,’ he ordered.
The chips continued to fly. Mirage’s anxiety crested. What she had decided would upset him, she was sure. He might not even allow it. She thought of turning back yet managed to remain, watching as Raxor avoided her eyes, pretending that all the wood he chopped was so much more important.
At last King Raxor lowered his axe, breathing hard as he rested the blade on the massive tree stump. A peculiar looked crossed his sweaty face. He stared at Mirage.
‘My son . . .’ The king shrugged. ‘He died and I couldn’t save him. They butchered him.’
Mirage shuddered. ‘You couldn’t save him, my lord.’
‘I didn’t try. I didn’t even know what was happening.’ Raxor tossed his axe aside. ‘Do you hear? I didn’t know! I’m so old and stupid I couldn’t see the obvious trap!’
‘No,’ said Mirage, hurrying toward him. ‘Prince Roland died like all the others. In battle.’
‘And where was I?’ the king railed. ‘I didn’t see battle. I was hiding like a woman behind my troops.’
‘You were commanding them.’
Raxor slumped. Slowly he dragged his weary body down to sit upon the tree stump. ‘That’s why you were brought to me, Mirage. To be kind to a useless old man. Years ago I would never have fallen for a ruse like that. Baron Glass played me and I let him. And now . . .’
His voice choked off as emotion strangled his words. Mirage stood before him, pitying him. Finally he looked up at her.
‘You are leaving.’
Mirage
nodded. ‘Yes.’
Raxor smiled sadly. ‘I have thought on what Aric Glass said to me. He was right. You are a free woman, and all I’ve done is make a pretty cage for you. But I tried, you see. I wanted you to be happy here.’
‘And I have been, my lord. At times.’ Mirage looked at him fondly. ‘You have been kind to me. I did not expect such tenderness from you. You are not what the rest of the world says you are, King Raxor. In Liiria they remember you the way you were.’
Raxor scoffed. ‘When I was young and strong, you mean.’
‘When you were cruel in battle. That’s what they say and that’s why I feared you. I found instead a good man who tries very hard to do what’s right.’
King Raxor grinned at this. ‘You know, you look very much like my wife, but she would never have spoken the way you do, Mirage. You are really not like her. Oh, she was saintly. There was no better woman alive. But she was simple and unworldly. Not like you. You are wise. I will miss your counsel.’
‘Will you?’ asked Mirage, surprised. ‘Thank you, my lord.’
‘It is good that you leave,’ sighed Raxor. ‘There are terrible days ahead. Go north, far from Reec and Liiria. Or go home to Jerikor. Anywhere is better than Reec now.’
Mirage hesitated. She could lie, she supposed, but she still needed a bit of help from the king. ‘My lord,’ she began, ‘I’m not going north. I’m going back to Koth.’
Raxor looked up, his self-loathing flying from his face. ‘What?’
‘I’m going back to Koth. I’m going back to Thorin.’
‘What?’ sputtered Raxor again. He rose in disbelief. ‘You can’t do such a thing!’
‘I must, my lord. You’re not the only one who has thought about the things Aric Glass said. He was right about me. I have been nothing but selfish for years. You don’t even know the woman that I am, not really.’
‘I have tried,’ said Raxor. ‘But you’re a mystery still. Now tell me more about this madness. Why must you go to Glass?’
‘To reach him, my lord. To try and get him to stop his madness. He loved me once. He might still love me. He’ll listen to me.’
Raxor shook his head. ‘He won’t. That’s what Aric thought, Mirage, but when he saw what a demon his father had become he rode back to the line. He knew he couldn’t reach Glass, and neither can you.’
‘I’m a woman, don’t forget,’ Mirage reminded him. ‘Love is powerful, my lord.’
‘You’re a beauty, true,’ Raxor laughed. ‘But no, I cannot allow this. If you go to Koth there is no telling what will happen to you, and I could not bear you being harmed. Not now, not after what happened to Roland.’
‘I’m a free woman,’ Mirage told him. ‘You said so yourself. Unless you go back on your word to me, I may go where I wish.’ She looked at him harshly. ‘Are you going back on your word, King Raxor?’
Frustrated, Raxor towered over her. ‘Don’t play games with me, child. You have no idea of the danger you’d face. You did not see Baron Glass or the carnage he occasioned.’
‘How can I make you understand?’ Mirage wondered aloud. She thought for a moment before seizing on Roland. ‘It is like your son, my lord. You grieve because he is dead, but you also grieve for the things you thought you could have done differently. You think you could have saved him, and no matter how I argue otherwise you will always think that.’
‘I should have tried,’ said Raxor. ‘That’s all.’
‘That’s right,’ countered Mirage. ‘That’s what you think. It is the same for me. I must try, King Raxor. I must.’
‘But why? I do not understand.’
How could she explain it to him? She had kept such secrets from him already, and there was still no way for her to reveal the truth. The magic of Grimhold was not to be shared, and he might not believe her anyway.
‘There are things I cannot tell you, my lord,’ Mirage said gently. ‘Things about myself and where I came from. Secret things.’
‘Things about Baron Glass?’ asked Raxor.
‘In a way. We share the same secrets, my lord.’
‘That’s why you think you can make him listen?’
Mirage sighed. ‘Maybe. At least I have to try. Will you let me? I will need passage to Koth.’
King Raxor considered her words, looking around at the trees and the blue sky. The pretty day shined on his face but did not hide his melancholy. He licked his lips as if stalling, not wanting her to go.
‘You are not the selfish girl you think, Mirage,’ he said finally. ‘You have helped me more than I can tell you. For a while I felt young again when I was with you.’
‘You can thank me, then, by letting me go.’
‘If that’s the only way,’ said Raxor regretfully, ‘then you may go to Koth. But not alone. Corvalos Chane will go with you. He will see that you make it safely, at least.’
Mirage at last relaxed, letting out a long breath. ‘I would like that. It’s a long way to Koth and Chane would be welcome.’
‘He’ll protect you, Mirage. But once you are with Baron Glass . . .’
‘I know,’ said Mirage. ‘I’ll be on my own.’
‘That’s right,’ said the king. ‘But you will always have a place here, if ever you want to return.’
His words comforted Mirage. She had never felt at home anywhere, not even in Grimhold. It was good to think she had a place in the real world that would welcome her. ‘You mean like home, my lord?’ she asked.
‘Home is the best place, Mirage,’ he said. ‘Everyone needs a place to call home.’
38
A flash of distant lightning lit the open doors to the library, bringing the murky interior to light. Jazana Carr, wet from rain, stared down the maw of the corridor, noting the vast emptiness. A clap of thunder rang in her ears, spooking her horse. Somewhere far away an owl hooted. Library Hill stood starkly in the moonless night, cluttered with abandoned equipment and the tools of workmen. The long, meandering road up the hill coursed with muddy rainwater. Jazana Carr shook the rain from her face and stared into the library. Thorin had not lied to her about the progress. An enormous amount of work had already been done. The grand interior, once collapsed by Norvan catapults, was gradually returning to life.
‘Let me come with you, Jazana,’ said Rodrik Varl. ‘It’s dark and unsafe. You don’t even know where he is.’
‘I know where he is,’ Jazana replied. There could only be one place. ‘Just wait for me. I don’t know how long I’ll be.’
Rodrik looked up into the threatening sky. So far the worst of the storm had missed them, but the clouds were rolling south toward the hill. Rodrik pulled up his collar, soured by her decision. He had argued against coming so late, but Jazana had insisted.
‘Come back in the morning,’ Rodrik suggested. ‘If Thorin hasn’t returned by then, I’ll take you back.’
‘How long should I wait?’ Jazana retorted. ‘I want to see him. Tonight.’
‘When there’s a monster in the wardrobe, a wise man waits till morning, Jazana. He won’t take well to this intrusion.’
Jazana stiffened, trying to look brave. She wasn’t afraid of Thorin, at least not completely, but she didn’t blame the others for being so. Since the fall of the Kryss she had seen him only sparingly, but he had been shocking to behold. Drenched in blood, he had returned to Lionkeep like a madman, followed by tales of his unbelievable carnage. Two days later, Jazana had ridden out herself to the river to see the stacks of corpses. Some said the Kryss would never be clean again.
‘He’s avoiding me,’ Jazana confessed. ‘And he made me a promise.’
Varl smirked. ‘A promise from a devil is no promise at all.’
‘He’s not a devil,’ Jazana shot back. ‘You should all know better than to talk that way of him.’
‘I know what I know, Jazana. And I know what I saw with you at the Kryss.’ Varl scoffed. ‘Ah, but what use is it? You see none of it, only your love for him.’
‘Stop now,’ Jazana u
rged. ‘I have to go.’
‘Then go.’
‘He needs me,’ Jazana tried explaining.
‘Norvor needs you, Jazana. But go on . . . go to him. I’ll wait.’
They had endured this argument a hundred times. Jazana surrendered, slipping down from her horse and standing at the library’s threshold. Through the twin oak doors she saw a handful of candles along the walls, lighting a path. Listening, she heard nothing. The workmen reconstructing the library had all quit for the day, long ago. So had the painters and sculptors and all the other artisans Thorin had brought to Koth for his grand obsession. His projects and passions had bled Jazana’s coffers nearly dry. And still he dwelt here, slipping day by day deeper into the grip of his magical armour.
Jazana hesitated.
‘Are you going?’ Varl asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Then go.’
‘Shut up,’ Jazana snapped, then crossed the threshold without looking back. The vast hallway swallowed her down its inky throat. The walls swam with shadows. Overhead, a mural of intense looking scholars spied Jazana as she followed the candles down the hall. Most had burned down to nubs, providing only enough light for her to grope her way along, helped by an occasional blast of lightning through the stained glass windows. Jazana glanced over her shoulder and barely saw the outline of Rodrik Varl and the horses standing in the rain. She took a breath to steady herself. The catalogue room was a the other end of the library. A long walk, especially in the dark, but as she continued through the halls Jazana noticed that the candles continued guiding her along, perfectly placed to lead her to the hidden chamber. She moved quietly, listening to her shallow breathing, noting the rows and rows of empty book shelves and the small, lonely reading rooms.
‘The Cathedral of Knowledge.’
Her whispered voice carried through the dusty hall. She smiled, enchanted by the memory of what the place had once been. It would be like that again, Thorin had promised, but his vow had taken on ominous proportions. Jazana’s smile quickly faded. So many dreams . . . what had gone wrong?