by John Marco
‘Fine,’ said Eiriann. ‘Just fine.’
‘And you? How are you, Eiriann?’
Young Eiriann made a brave face, shrugging off the question. ‘I’m well.’ She paused, then glanced up at the mistress. ‘As well as I could be, I guess.’
‘You’ve had quite a time, I’m sure,’ said Minikin gently. She squatted down beside Poppy using her cane for balance, and with her free hand traced her finger over the babe’s smooth belly. ‘Have you thought about what you will do now?’
Eiriann’s face tightened. ‘You have been so kind to us. I know we can’t remain here in the palace now, but perhaps we can find a place in the town outside the wall. I was hoping Kahana White-Eye might know of a place, or one of her people.’
‘Hmm, yes, that might do,’ said Minikin, trying to hide her mirth. ‘You understand why I could never take the baby into Grimhold, don’t you?’
Eiriann nodded. ‘I understand. Lorn was mistaken; we all were. But it’s all he ever wanted for Poppy, to be healed. To be like these other children.’ Her gaze flicked momentarily toward the children and their mothers, all of them normal, none of them possibly understanding what it was like for Poppy. ‘He wasn’t just a bad man, Minikin. He was a good man, too.’
‘Some people don’t believe that,’ said Minikin. ‘But I do.’
The young woman looked at her strangely. ‘Yes,’ she sighed. ‘I believe you. He liked you, Minikin. I think it’s because you saw the real him. The good one underneath the bad one, I mean.’
‘He loved his daughter, certainly. And he loved you.’
‘And he loved Norvor,’ said Eiriann sourly. ‘And that’s what killed him. I don’t blame Lukien for what he did; he probably thinks that, but I don’t. Lorn was obsessed; I know that. But he was good to me and my father.’ She smiled at Minikin. ‘I’m glad I’m not the only one that saw the good in him.’
Minikin put her finger into Poppy’s palm. The little hand closed on it immediately. ‘And he left you this little one to care for. It’s a big job. You’ll need help with her, probably more than you can give her.’
A shadow crossed Eiriann’s face. ‘I’ll do the best I can for her. I’ll work for money. Maybe I’ll find a man who’ll take care of us. I don’t know . . .’
‘You know,’ Minikin began mischievously, ‘I may know a place for her. There’s a family not far from here that can take good care of her, teach her the things she needs to know to survive.’
‘Really?’ Eiriann was stunned. ‘Who would do that?’
Minikin grinned. ‘Who do you think?’
For a moment the girl did not understand, but then the realization dawned on her. She could not speak.
‘King Lorn fought and risked his life for us,’ said Minikin softly. ‘He knew I was weak and never took advantage. He was true to his word to Gilwyn, right to the end, and he made a kahana out of White-Eye. Whatever else he might have been, he was never an enemy to Jador, or to Grimhold. We owe him a debt but we can never repay it because he is gone. But his daughter . . .’ Minikin stroked Poppy’s face. ‘She belongs here. She can be one of us now.’
‘You’ll take her into Grimhold?’ asked Eiriann breathlessly. ‘How?’
‘Every now and then I choose a child to enter Grimhold. It only happens seldom because there are very few Akari. But when an Inhuman passes, the Akari is free to find another host.’
‘Passes? Who has died?’
Minikin shook off the question. ‘It doesn’t matter. There are many Inhumans. You did not know her. What’s important is that there is space for Poppy now . . . if you’ll let me take her.’
Eiriann looked heart-broken, and also hugely glad. She looked down at Poppy with tears welling in her eyes. ‘She’s like my own,’ she choked.
‘I know,’ Minikin agreed. ‘And that’s why you’ll let me take her, because you want the best for her.’
‘She’ll be normal in Grimhold? She will see and hear, like normal children?’
‘No, not like normal children, dear.’ Minikin got that impish look. ‘She’ll be better than normal. She’ll be an Inhuman.’
87
Lukien lay in the steaming water, his wet hair dripping into his one, half-closed eye. His naked body had given itself over to the warmth, falling into an almost trance-like relaxation. Overhead, the mosaic ceiling of the bath chamber dazzled him with intricate colours. His arms spread out on the ledge of the pool, holding him at chin level in the water. As he floated, sleep crept ever closer. He watched his toes break the surface then sink back down. The hair on his body moved like in a breeze. Alone in the vast chamber, Lukien heard the slow ebb and flow of his breath and, if he listened closely, the calm rhythm of his heart.
Time did a wonderful disappearing act here in the baths. It had been morning when Lukien had entered, but he was no longer sure the sun was even up anymore. On the stone floor behind his head, the Sword of Angels lay on the moist surface, strangely impervious to getting wet. Though the weapon still sat near him, Lukien could barely sense Malator in his mind, the Akari having backed off. It was a small gift but Lukien was grateful for it, and had in fact enjoyed it for a week now. Since returning to Jador he had spent most of his time alone, with little contact with anyone, including Malator. He had done too much over the last year, traveling too many miles and watching friends die. Lukien never wanted to think again. All he wanted now was to drift away, high up to the colourful ceiling like the mist.
Today, however, a visitor interrupted his bathing. From time to time Jadori soldiers would enter the chamber, sliding down silently at the other end of the pool. On occasion, mothers brought their children to the baths as well, laughing while the naked babes were carried through the water, splashing and giggling. Lukien enjoyed the solitude but never expected it, and in fact he liked when others joined him in the baths, even when he never said a word to them. Lukien simply wanted to relax. And not to talk at all.
Still, it did not surprise him when Gilwyn entered the chamber. He heard the boy before he saw him, the distinctive clip-clop of his special boot dragging on the echoing stones. As Gilwyn turned the corner he peered into the pool chamber through the mists, seeing Lukien floating in the water. Lukien’s eye widened a little. Was he glad to see Gilwyn? He didn’t know, though he supposed the time had come to tell of his decision.
‘Don’t just stand there gawking,’ he told his friend.
Gilwyn made a face before stepping around the corner. ‘You looked like you were sleeping.’
Lukien’s eye widened as he saw what Gilwyn was wearing. Not at all ready for the baths, Gilwyn sported his usual shirt and trousers, his special boot buckled up the length of his calf. ‘If you try swimming like that you’ll sink like a rock.’
Gilwyn smiled a little sheepishly, making his way across the edge of the pool. The way was narrow where Lukien floated, and Gilwyn was careful to keep his balance on the slick stone. Lukien watched, ready to help the boy if he needed it but Gilwyn did not, finally coming to a stop near Lukien’s sword.
‘I can’t see you if you stand behind me,’ said Lukien. ‘Take your shoes off at least. Dip your feet in the water; that’s what Minikin does.’
‘No, thanks,’ said Gilwyn. It was obvious there were things on his mind. ‘I didn’t come for a bath.’
‘Still, I prefer you didn’t stand there. Sit at least. Get comfortable.’
It was an effort for Gilwyn to sit himself down, but he found a spot that wasn’t too damp over Lukien’s left shoulder. He lowered himself to the stones, using his good hand for support. Then he looked around, admiring the chamber. They had the entire place to themselves.
‘I’ve been waiting for you,’ Lukien confessed. ‘I should have talked to you sooner. I’m sorry. I’ve had some things I needed to consider.’
‘I know,’ said Gilwyn. ‘I could leave if you like.’
‘No.’ Lukien tilted his head back and smiled at him. ‘We should talk. But first, tell me – how are things
with White-Eye?’
Gilwyn got that dreamy look. ‘Perfect.’
Lukien laughed. ‘That’s it?’
‘What else is there? She’s perfect. I’m happy, Lukien.’
‘Yes, I can see that.’ Lukien enjoyed teasing him, but when he noticed the amulet beneath Gilwyn’s shirt he got serious. ‘And what about that?’ he asked, gesturing with his chin. ‘Any problems?’
‘No. Not yet anyway.’
‘It’s a big adjustment, Gilwyn. Maybe you’re not telling me the truth, huh?’
The boy looked frightened. ‘Maybe. But what can I do? If I take it off I die, right?’
‘That’s right. But are you ready to live forever?’
‘Is anybody?’
There was silence between them, awkward enough to make Gilwyn change the subject. He said, ‘I dreamt about Thorin last night.’
Lukien sank deeper into the water. ‘I dream about him sometimes.’
‘He’s alive somewhere,’ said Gilwyn. ‘Maybe he’s talking to us.’
‘I’m not sure I like that idea.’
‘Why not? It means he’s free.’
‘Yes.’ The thought made Lukien happy. ‘Free.’ Behind him, he sensed the Sword of Angels. He knew, too, that Gilwyn was staring at it. ‘Go on,’ he said. ‘Ask your question.’
Gilwyn hesitated. ‘I just . . . I wanted to know what your plans are. I mean if you’ve decided yet. If you haven’t . . .’
‘No,’ said Lukien. ‘I’ve decided.’ He didn’t turn to face his friend. ‘I can’t stay here, Gilwyn. I’m going.’
The silence between them rose up again. Lukien could feel Gilwyn’s twisted expression.
‘It’s what I have to do,’ he hurried to add. ‘I’m going to Tharlara.’
A great sigh rushed out of Gilwyn. ‘To the Story Garden.’
‘That’s right.’ Lukien hesitated. ‘I know what I said, but . . .’ he stopped himself, unsure how much to tell.
‘You can live with the sword,’ said Gilwyn. ‘And still see Cassandra again.’
‘Yes. Yes, that’s right.’
‘I’m happy,’ said Gilwyn. He shifted a little closer. ‘I was afraid for you.’
Lukien still could not look at him. ‘Well, that’s all right then,’ he said. ‘I’m just going to Tharlara. I’ll be all right.’
‘Right,’ Gilwyn chirped. ‘If you keep the sword you can go on, just like me. I know how much you miss Cassandra, but you don’t have to die for her. You can still be with her this way. It’s like she’s still alive.’
‘She is alive,’ Lukien reminded him. ‘And she’s waiting for me. In Tharlara.’
Gilwyn leaned down. ‘Lukien?’
‘Yes?’
‘I’m going to miss you.’
Looking at Gilwyn before had been difficult, but now it was impossible. A lump rose in Lukien’s throat. ‘I’m going to miss you too, Gilwyn. I’m going to miss everything about this place.’
‘But you can come back someday,’ said Gilwyn.
Lukien nodded. ‘Yes. I can come back.’
Gilwyn’s face flushed with hope. He had never known his own father, but often he looked at Lukien the way a son might. Or a wise big-brother. It had been so easy for Lukien to lie and spare his feelings. Gilwyn started to his feet again, careful not to slip on the damp stones.
‘I’ll leave you alone now and let you think,’ he said. ‘Maybe we can all eat together tonight?’
Lukien, floating, nodded slowly. ‘All right.’
But as Gilwyn turned to go he stood up quickly, splashing the water around him. ‘Gilwyn, wait . . .’
Gilwyn stopped. ‘Yes?’
Standing naked in the pool, Lukien stared at Gilwyn, searching for words. Gilwyn’s hopeful glow disippated.
‘What is it, Lukien?’
Perched on the very ledge of the truth, Lukien could not stop himself from tumbling over. ‘I’m not going to Tharlara,’ he said quickly. ‘I’m sorry, but I lied to you.’
Gilwyn inched closer with concern. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I’m going somewhere else, Gilwyn, but I can’t do it alone.’ Lukien looked pleadingly at his young friend. ‘I need your help.’
88
Two days later, Lukien found himself at the edge of a stream heading west. Around him, the desert had succumbed to moss-covered stones and leafy trees, and the stream bubbled as it rolled across its rocky bottom. Lukien sat by the edge of the stream, drinking of its clear water and eating the food he had packed for himself. Yards away, his horse waited, lashed to a tree. On the road to Tharlara, the stream had beckoned to him, offering the perfect place for rest and reflection. As Lukien ate, his mind filled with images of his friends. It was impossible for him to explain himself or the depths of his love for Cassandra, and yet Minikin and Gilwyn had somehow understood. The Sword of Angels lay in the grass beside him, sparkling like the river, close enough to its owner to keep him well and alive. In a way, the weapon had made his dreams come true. If he had never found it, he would never have found Cassandra.
For that, at least, he was grateful.
Lukien took his time finishing his meal. After so long a wait there was no real reason to hurry. When at last he was done he stood, taking a deep breath and admiring his surroundings. Looking west, he could see the stream continuing on, as did the grass and trees and all the lovely shade. The place was perfect. The day was perfect. Over his shoulder, almost out of sight, Gilwyn waited, patiently giving his friend the time he needed to prepare himself. With the boy had come Emerald his kreel. The reptiles head bobbed behind the branches. Gilwyn looked at Lukien through the leaves, then quickly turned away. He had said almost nothing on their ride to this place. Truly, there was nothing left to say, and Gilwyn had at last stopped begging Lukien to reconsider. At last, he had agreed to be here with him for one last adventure.
It was impossible to do alone, Lukien had decided. He could have walked away from the sword, he supposed, but he did not know how long he would linger or how far he would get. More importantly, he could not just abandon Malator after all the Akari had done for him. Gilwyn would take the sword back with him to Grimhold. If ever it were needed again, it would be in his safe keeping.
‘You deserve to be home, Malator, among your people again.’ Lukien spoke lightly to the spirit. ‘How does that feel?’
I would rather be with you, replied the spirit.
Lukien knelt down on the soft earth and gently picked up the weapon. An image of Malator filled his mind. The Akari was not smiling, but neither was he angry.
Are you ready?
Lukien nodded.
Then call the boy.
Somehow Gilwyn knew the time had come. Leaving Emerald in the trees, Gilwyn emerged from the branches, looking resolute and pale. The Eye of God beamed upon his chest. He came to stand before the kneeling Lukien, his hand shaking as he touched the knight’s shoulder. Lukien comforted him with a smile.
‘I can feel her,’ sighed Lukien. ‘She’s here with us.’
Gilwyn glanced around, looking for the invisible Cassandra. ‘She’s in the Story Garden too, Lukien. You can go to her there.’
‘She’s always with me, Gilwyn, but it’s not the same. It’s not like really being with her.’ Lukien lifted the sword and kissed its shining blade. ‘Malator, take care of them,’ he said. His fingers wrapped gingerly around the weapon. The enormous power of Malator flooded through him one more time. Gilwyn stepped back, in no hurry to take the life-giving blade from Lukien. Lukien shut his eye, holding the blade out before him, summoning Cassandra like a prayer. ‘My love, take me to paradise with you.’
His hands began to shake. He gripped the blade more tightly, feeling its edge bite into his flesh. He could feel Cassandra upon him, in his mind and body. Her face shimmered just out of reach. Agony seized Lukien when he saw her, shaking her raven-haired head, his eyes full of sadness.
‘No,’ Lukien gasped. ‘Don’t refuse me.’
Mal
ator had moved away, leaving room for Cassandra’s ghost to reach across the void between them. Lukien struggled to hear her, snatching up bits of her beautiful voice. She was barely audible, yet to Lukien her meaning was clear.
‘No!’ he bellowed, crushing the blade until blood from his fingers. His whole body shook with grief. ‘I want to be in paradise. I want to be with you!’
Cassandra at last breached the gap between their worlds. Reaching out, she touched his face with her ethereal hand. In the darkness, all he saw was her, and all he heard was her voice, heart-broken by his choice.
We have forever, she told him. Live your life.
It took all her strength to breach the worlds, and then she was gone, floating back across the void, the feeling of her touch lingering on Lukien’s cheek. He didn’t want to open up his eye again, but try as he might he could not summon her again. Slowly his one eye opened, revealing Gilwyn’s shocked face.
‘Lukien?’ Gilwyn was kneeling in front of him. ‘Your hands . . .’
Lukien stared at the sword. His fingers burned with pain from the cuts of the blade. Instantly, Malator went to work, healing him.
‘She doesn’t want me,’ he gasped. ‘Not yet.’
‘Cassandra?’ Gilwyn hurried a handkerchief out of his pocket, dabbing gently at Lukien’s bloodied hands. ‘You saw her?’
Lukien raised his eyes and saw the Eye of God dangling at Gilwyn’s neck, and suddenly the enormity of things struck him.
‘She wants me to live my life,’ he said. ‘But if I have this sword . . .’
Gilwyn stopped him. ‘No, it’s not like that,’ he said quickly. He could barely keep the happiness from his face. ‘No one lives forever, Lukien. Not Minikin, not me – not even you with the sword. Listen to what Cassandra’s telling you, Lukien.’
‘What?’ Lukien looked hopefully at his young friend.
‘You’ll see her again, Lukien. You’ll have eternity together. Someday.’
‘But the sword . . .’
‘The sword won’t keep you from her, Lukien. She’s always with you, remember?’