by John Marco
‘And you, Varagin?’ asked Minikin.
The boy’s father couldn’t speak. Rather, he nodded. Minikin reached down toward Carlan, who had absorbed every word.
‘Take my hand, child.’
Without hesitation Carlan did so, rising to his feet. With blind eyes he looked at his new benefactor. ‘We go now?’
‘Yes,’ said Minikin. ‘To a better place.’
Gilwyn Toms was grateful to see Jador again. After a day in the desert, the place that had become his home welcomed him with its shining white beauty. His palsied hand and leg ached with cramps and his backside burned from riding his kreel too long, and despite the gaka he wore the sun had burned its brand on his cheeks and forehead. It had taken them longer to reach the city than anyone expected. The Seekers had slowed them considerably. And when at last they had reached the outskirts of Jador, the Seekers were disappointed to learn they could not enter the city gates. The sight of the refugee city shocked them. It was that way for all the Seekers who managed to reach Jador. Somehow, they thought they were the only ones. Paxon, the leader of the group, seemed the most surprised. It did not take long for Lukien to exact a small revenge on the man.
‘You see?’ said the Bronze Knight, sweeping a gesture across the plethora of hastily erected homes. ‘This is why you were a fool to come here, Paxon.’
Paxon and his Seekers looked around hopelessly. His eyes danced from house to house, counting up the hundreds — thousands — of people like himself who had come across the desert. When his gaze fixed on the city beyond the white wall, he looked at Gilwyn.
‘No — that’s where we want to go,’ he insisted. ‘We didn’t come across the desert to be left out here.’
‘This is Jador,’ said Gilwyn. Exhausted, he did his best to keep civil. ‘It’s as crowded inside the wall as outside.’
‘But we want to see Mount Believer,’ Paxon argued. He looked around in confusion. ‘Where is it? We were told the city would lead us there.’
The other Seekers nodded, looking at Gilwyn for answers. Calith, still holding the lame Melini, gave Gilwyn a twisted smile. Of all the burdens he carried now as regent, this was the worst of them. Telling Seekers they had travelled so far for nothing had never gotten easier.
‘Give us some time,’ said Gilwyn. ‘We’ll find a place for you to stay, but for now you have to be patient. It might take a day or so to find homes for you all.’
‘What?’ Paxon erupted. ‘Out here? You don’t understand — we’re not like these other people. We’re not refugees! We’re-’
‘You are refugees,’ snapped Lukien. He whirled his horse around to face them all. ‘You’re guests of the Jadori people, uninvited and a burden. Nobody asked you to come here. So you’ll wait. You’ll do what you’re told like the rest of these people did. And if you don’t like it, there’s your way home.’ A stretched index finger pointed across the desert. ‘You’re not prisoners. You’re welcome to leave.’
Gilwyn and Ghost looked shocked by his outburst. So did the Seekers. Paxon stared at Lukien.
‘Sir Lukien, we have nowhere else to go. We came here to-’
‘I know why you came here,’ said Lukien. ‘To be healed. Gods, how many times have I heard that? The world is full of misery, Paxon. Just look around. You’re no different from anyone else.’
The knight didn’t wait for Paxon’s retort. Instead he turned his mount and rode off toward the city gates. The Jadori warriors quickly followed him. Ghost and Gilwyn remained behind, questioning each other with confused glances. Paxon stood at the front of his fellow Liirians, dumbstruck. The Seekers were silent. The cacophony of the township echoed around them, but they seemed too stricken to notice it.
‘Gilwyn Toms?’ said Paxon. ‘What do we do now?’
‘You’ll have to wait,’ replied Gilwyn. ‘I’m sorry, but that’s all I can tell you. We’ll find a place for you and the others, don’t worry. We’re always building new houses. .’
‘No,’ said Paxon. ‘We don’t want to live here. We want to find Mount Believer. Surely you can help us. You are regent here!’
‘I can’t,’ said Gilwyn. ‘This is the best we can do.’
‘Gilwyn Toms, please.’ It was the woman Calith again, speaking from atop the wagon. ‘We are Liirians, like you. Is there not someone you can speak to on our behalf? We’ve come so far.’
The plea broke Gilwyn’s heart, though he knew there was little he could do. ‘There is a woman who will learn of you,’ he said. ‘Her name is Ela-daz. All the Seekers know of her. I will tell her you’ve come, but really it will make little difference.’
‘You have to understand, all these people plead to Eladaz,’ said Ghost. Because he was one of Minikin’s Inhumans, he was anxious to defend her. ‘She has much to consider, and there are only so many places in Grimhold — Mount Believer — for people like yourselves.’
Paxon’s face collapsed in defeat. ‘No,’ he groaned. ‘That just can’t be.’ He looked around at the place that had become his new home, his eyes reflecting its misery. ‘We’ve come so far. .’
‘You will be well treated here,’ said Gilwyn. ‘And you’ll be protected from Aztar’s men. There is food and shelter for everyone.’
‘But no magic,’ sighed Calith. She held her daughter a little closer. ‘Not for us.’
Gilwyn’s insides clenched. ‘I am sorry,’ he told them. ‘I will speak to Ela-daz for you, but I can’t make promises.’ At last he turned his kreel toward the city. ‘Be at ease. Ghost will find food for you and start arranging your shelters. If I hear good news, I will tell you.’
Then, shunting aside the image of their disappointed faces, Gilwyn rode off after Lukien.
The next morning, Gilwyn found Minikin readying to leave Jador. He had not spoken to the Mistress of Grimhold the night before; they had both been too busy with other things. Minikin was in the garden courtyard of the palace. As always, Trog was with her, along with a handful of Jadori warriors, each mounted on a kreel. Another, more enormous kreel awaited the giant Trog, who could not control one himself but had to be driven by an experienced rider. Lukien’s horse had been brought to the courtyard, but the Bronze Knight was nowhere to be seen. A dark-skinned Jadori boy held the reins of the beast adoringly, waiting for Lukien to arrive. Minikin herself was talking to other Jadori, three men, all of whom Gilwyn knew well. But among them was someone Gilwyn had never seen before, a small boy of perhaps five or six. This was Carlan, Gilwyn knew, the child of Seekers from Marn — the one Minikin had selected. As Gilwyn walked across the garden to greet them, a smile crept across his face. At least someone would be making it to Grimhold. The boy sat with Minikin along a stone bench, listening intently as the lady spoke. She did not let Gilwyn’s approach disturb her.
‘When you have learned about the Akari,’ Minikin was saying, ‘only then will you meet your teacher.’
The boy nodded unquestioningly. Around him the men of Jador milled about their kreels, readying their tack and provisions. It was a full day’s trek across the desert to Grimhold. Gilwyn himself had made the journey many times, and knew the necessity of preparation. He waited until Minikin had finished speaking with the boy before stepping closer, and then he waited for her to acknowledge him. She was a good woman, but intimidated Gilwyn still. As usual, Minikin wore her multicoloured coat, which was muted now because the Akari she commanded were at rest. The first time he had seen Minikin, she had used the coat and its attendant spirits to disappear, much the same as Ghost could do. It was just one of the mistress’ great abilities, but it was the one that intrigued Gilwyn the most.
‘Carlan,’ she said, ‘there’s someone else here now. Can you tell?’
The boy, who Gilwyn knew was blind, turned in his direction. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I can tell whenever someone comes close.’
‘This is Gilwyn Toms. He is Regent of Jador.’ Minikin waved Gilwyn closer, who came to stand before the bench. ‘A regent is like a ruler.’
‘Like a
king?’
‘In a way. But Gilwyn rules in place of someone else, a young woman named White-Eye. White-Eye is Kahana of Jador, like a queen. You will meet White-Eye when we reach Grimhold.’
Gilwyn stooped a little to face the boy. ‘Hello, Carlan,’ he said with a smile. ‘You’re very lucky to be going to Grimhold. I wish I was going to see White-Eye.’
‘Why is she called that?’ asked the boy.
‘Because she is blind, like you,’ said Minikin. ‘But she’s able to see because of her Akari teacher, just like you’ll be able to see one day.’
‘Is she a nice lady?’
Gilwyn couldn’t contain his grin. ‘Oh, yes.’ Everyone knew of his love for White-Eye; he supposed Carlan should, too. ‘And very beautiful. You’ll like her, I promise.’
‘Carlan, will you sit here and wait for me a moment?’ asked Minikin. ‘Gilwyn wishes to speak to me.’
Gilwyn glanced at Minikin, not surprised by her clairvoyance. He stepped aside, letting Minikin follow him out of earshot. At once a Jadori warrior went to Carlan, watching over him while Minikin turned her back. She wore her customary inscrutable grin as she strolled with Gilwyn through the garden.
‘I am glad you came to see me off,’ she said, ‘but your face tells me you have more on your mind than that. Should I guess? I am thinking that you want to speak of the Seekers you rescued yesterday.’
Gilwyn nodded. Because of his clubfoot, he kept perfect time with Minikin’s little legs. ‘I wanted to talk to you about them before you left for Grimhold. I promised them I would.’
‘Lukien told me that you were quite the hero yesterday.’
‘He said that?’ Gilwyn shrugged. ‘No. .’
‘No?’
The boy grinned. ‘Well, maybe.’
They both laughed.
‘You protected them and brought them here safely, but they are not grateful. I cannot say that I blame them.’ The little woman paused and stared into the distance, toward the township hidden far off behind Jador’s tall, protective wall. ‘It is not easy for them. They expect so much when they get here. It is hard for us to disappoint them.’
‘Yes, it is,’ agreed Gilwyn. ‘They were so desperate.’
‘They are all desperate.’ The fact made Minikin slump. ‘If I could bring them all into Grimhold I would. You know that, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ said Gilwyn. Confused, he let his gaze drift toward the bricks beneath his feet. ‘I don’t know; maybe it’s because they were Liirians. They got to me. Did Lukien tell you they were Liirians?’
‘He did. It doesn’t change anything, Gilwyn. I take who I can to Grimhold. I cannot consider where they come from. I’m sorry, but it does not matter to me.’
‘They upset Lukien, I think. I thought he would question them, being from Liiria, but he doesn’t seem interested any more. All he thinks of is Cassandra.’
‘Time, Gilwyn. Shalafein needs time.’
The answer vexed the boy. It had been a year since Cassandra’s death. Would Lukien mourn forever? ‘Will you tell Thorin about the Liirians when you get to Grimhold?’ he asked. ‘He’ll want to talk to them, I’m sure.’
‘I’m sure,’ laughed Minikin. ‘I will tell him.’ She grew serious suddenly, fixing her eyes on Gilwyn. ‘You have done a good job here, Gilwyn. Someone should tell you that. I should tell you that, but I am so busy all the time. I am grateful for the way you’ve watched over Jador, as is White-Eye.’
Gilwyn flushed at the compliment. ‘I miss her. I would go back to see her if I could, but there’s so much to do. With Aztar growing bolder, I’m afraid to leave Jador. And there’s the kreel problem, still. We need more of them, Minikin. I have to find them.’
Whenever he brought this up, Minikin deftly changed the subject, for she did not want him to go in search of the valued reptiles. This time, however, the lady surprised him.
‘Speaking of kreels, that’s something we should talk about.’
‘Yes, it is,’ said Gilwyn eagerly. ‘If we don’t find more, we won’t be able to protect ourselves.’
‘That’s not exactly my meaning,’ said Minikin. She stepped back and sized him up. ‘Do you know what Lukien said to me? He called your handling of your kreel yesterday brilliant. He said he’d never seen anything like it, not by a Jadori or anyone. Do you think he’s a man given to exaggeration?’
‘He must be,’ said Gilwyn. ‘It was nothing, really.’
Minikin’s face grew cross. ‘Boy, why is it so hard for you to accept a compliment? He said you were brilliant and I know you were; I’ve seen you with the beasts. You have something special, Gilwyn. It’s something that needs to be nurtured.’
‘I’m not sure what you mean,’ said Gilwyn. ‘It comes naturally to me, that’s all.’
‘Remember when I said that it takes time to train the Inhumans to use their Akari? Well, I think we have waited on your own training long enough.’
A hopeful spark went off in Gilwyn. In the year since meeting Minikin, he’d been waiting to learn about his own Akari, a spirit the lady herself had given him when he was but an infant, marking him as one of her Inhumans. He knew that her name was Ruana, and that she had been with him since that day. But as many times as he’d begged Minikin to tell him more, the little woman deferred.
‘You mean you’ll show me Ruana? Finally?’ he asked.
‘Today I ride for Grimhold,’ said Minikin. ‘I will see to Carlan’s settling in, and then I will return.’
‘To teach me?’
Minikin became her inscrutable self again. ‘To talk to you about your gifts.’
‘Gifts? What gifts?’
The little woman turned and started back toward the waiting Carlan. ‘Do not think too much about it. When I return you’ll have plenty to fill up your mind. I will give White-Eye your regards when I see her. Now, will you fetch Lukien for me? We need to be off.’
‘Minikin, tell me more, please,’ Gilwyn implored, following her. ‘I’ve waited so long. Can’t you tell me anything now?’
‘Patience is a good thing for a regent, Gilwyn. I’ll be back soon. In three days or less.’ The little woman went to Carlan, took his hand, then led him toward their waiting kreels. The boy sensed the huge lizards at once, surprising them all by smiling. Minikin gave him over to one of the Jadori, who carefully hefted him onto a beast’s scaly back. When she was sure he was safe, Minikin turned expectantly on Gilwyn. ‘Gilwyn? Will you find Lukien for me?’
With a frustrated sigh Gilwyn put up his hands. ‘All right,’ he groaned, then went in search of the brooding knight.
6
Dreams of Fire
A woman lay on a jutting shelf of stone, her eyes closed, her face free of her suffocating cloak, offering herself to the burning desert sun. As always, she had come to this place to be alone, away from her companions of Grimhold, to commune with her dark thoughts. Her hands, scarred and rutted like a crone’s, sat flat on the baked earth beside her, palms down, absorbing the heat that impregnated the rocks. Her blonde hair splayed out around her head. The sunlight dazzled the insides of her eyelids. Half asleep, she remembered with awful clarity the thing that had happened to her. .
She was young again. Free of pain. Safe in a bed in a little stone house with moonbeams slanting though the window. At twelve she was on the cusp of womanhood, and her body had started blooming. There was a boy down the street she had begun to love, but she had never seen him again, not after that night. She had no siblings, so slept in a room that she didn’t have to share. Her parents were still young enough for children, but for now Meriel was their one and only, and by the standards of their village they were quite well off. Meriel had been given love and enough food to grow healthy, and she remembered sleeping that night in contentment, oblivious to the catastrophe about to befall her.
Alone on her rock, the memory was like a dream to the woman. She could not silence it. As so often happened, it took control of her. In her mind, the nightmare blazed. .
/> Asleep, the girl had not quite heard her father’s scream. It had come as if from a great void, too distant to comprehend. Soon, though, it was joined by a roar. Meriel had never known that fire could roar. Jolted awake, she sat up to find an orange blaze outside her door, its burning hands reaching out to sear her, leaping up to lick the curtains, the lamp, the windowpanes. Night had fled, replaced by terrible brightness. At once the pain of it charged her skin, making her cry out. Now she heard her father’s voice again. He was calling her, screaming her name. Where was her mother? Meriel had no time to wonder. She needed to flee, but the threshold out of her bedroom had been swallowed by the flames. Soon it would swallow her, too. Her ears rang as its angry shriek erupted, shaking the little house. As the flames jumped she batted them away, burning her hands as she called for her father, pleading for a rescue. Smoke choked her throat and stung her eyes. Panicked tears soaked her cheeks. She was out of the bed with nowhere to go, backing up against the wall. She saw the window and knew it was her only escape. But the glass seemed so far away, and the heat was enormous. Then, like a miracle, the glass exploded into the room. A man — a neighbour — was there, climbing through the broken glass to reach her. Too fat to make it through, he looked at her, fixed her with a determined glare, and demanded she run to him.
His words made little sense to her, but the pain drove her toward the window. As fire swept the room, she bolted.
That was all the woman remembered. Later, she learned that she had lost consciousness not long after the neighbour man pulled her from the house. When she awoke, her mother and father were dead. The pretty little house had gone to ashes. And twelve-year-old Meriel, who had been a beautiful child, looked in a mirror and saw a monster staring back at her.
Slowly, Meriel opened her eyes and stared up at the desert sky. The merciless heat beat down on her cloaked body. Since that day six years ago, she always wore a cloak. Even here in Grimhold, where there were dozens who could rival her deformities, she hid herself. Minikin had taken her to Grimhold, and that had saved her life. Before that she had gone from town to town, begging, working where she could, hiding her face and never daring to hope for love, as she knew that no man would take so scarred a woman to bed, not even for a night. She had not even been able to prostitute herself.