The Devil's Armour (Gollancz S.F.) (17 page)

On one such turret stood a young woman, alone, wrapped in the soothing darkness of a desert night, her face turned to the blackened sky, her blank and featureless eyes enraptured by the bounty of stars. This particular turret was stout and low, almost a balcony, jutting up from the rear of the keep, and afforded a breathtaking view of the valley that had once suckled the dead Akari race. The woman on the turret was unconcerned with the valley, however, or with the history of the fortress she called home. Instead she was mesmerised by the stars and the ethereal voice in her head that explained them to her.

White-Eye had never seen stars with her own eyes. It was the eye inside her mind that let her see, and it was the gentle
coaching of her spirit Faralok that brought the images alive. Tonight, with Faralok’s help, White-Eye could see the carpet of stars as well as any sighted girl. She knew their twinkling beats, knew their placement in the sky and could point at them precisely with an outstretched finger. Blind since birth, White-Eye had been given an astonishing gift by Faralok. He and his strange magic had brought life to her milky eyes.

I have never seen snow
, she thought suddenly.
I wonder if it is like the stars
.

No Jadori had ever seen snow, but Gilwyn had told her about it. He had said that it was white and cold and twinkled like stars. White-Eye wrapped her arms about her shoulders. When the sun went down the desert cooled quickly, and that was good for White-Eye. Sunlight caused her the most intense pain. It was why she had come to live in Grimhold, away from her bright city, to live in the dark, safe recesses of the keep. She had been an infant then, newly born with eyes like two quartz stones and a mother dead in childbirth, dead because Lukien had slain her. It had been a horrible mistake, one that still haunted the Bronze Knight. Years later, it had brought him to White-Eye as her protector.

Shalafein
. . .

Suddenly she wished Lukien were here with her. She had learned to love the brooding knight. She wished Gilwyn were with her, too, but he was away in Jador as usual. All the happiness blew out of her like a wind.

I am a poor kahana
, she told herself.

At once Faralok came alive in her brain. He said with his usual alacrity,
We are watching the stars
.

White-Eye smiled at the intrusion. Usually Faralok did not speak so directly to her. Such conversation was unnecessary. She saw things as others saw them, with only the slightest delay while the Akari interpreted them for her mind to digest. At first it had been awkward, but Minikin had been a good and patient teacher. Now, White-Eye was
perfectly matched with her spirit, as fluent with him as she was with her own language.

‘Yes,’ she said aloud, ‘I am sorry, Faralok. I was thinking.’

Thinking useless thoughts again
.

‘No. I was thinking of Gilwyn.’

And how useless you are to him
.

‘Well, yes,’ White-Eye admitted.

It is stupid to think so. You are here because you must be here. Gilwyn Toms can look after Jador
.

‘But I am Kahana,’ said White-Eye. She wasn’t looking at the stars any more, but rather around in annoyance.

You are Kahana here in Grimhold as much as you would be in Jador
.

White-Eye sighed. ‘Faralok, I miss Gilwyn.’

There was a pause as the Akari considered this.
That is different, then
.

Faralok had been a young man when he died. Like many Akari, he had been a summoner, able to commune with the dead of his race. It was what had given the Akari their strange magics, and it was what Minikin had learned from them when she’d first discovered Grimhold. All the Akari were dead now, but not all of them had been summoners, and that was why there were relatively few of them to help the Inhumans. White-Eye considered herself blessed to have Faralok. Now more than ever, with floods of Seekers coming across the desert, she was grateful for his help.

Eager to change the subject, White-Eye pointed her dark face back toward the sky. Almost at once, the image of the stars bloomed in her mind. ‘There,’ she said, pointing at a cluster of pulsing pinpoints. ‘Is that a constellation?’

That is Tesharar, the horseman
, replied Faralok.
Look to the bright star near the top. Do you see his head? And the three stars to the left, his sword
.

It was imagination, not magic, that let White-Eye see the horseman. ‘Yes, I see it,’ she said. ‘Oh, that’s very good.’

They were all good, these Akari constellations, and White-Eye loved to watch them and hear Faralok’s legends.
The constellations all had stories, and Faralok was a good storyteller. She often wondered what he had been like in life. Learned, certainly, like all the Akari summoners. But thoughtful, too, and patient. Sometimes, he reminded her of Gilwyn.

Together they enjoyed the stars until White-Eye grew too cold to continue. As she turned, she heard a figure making its way up the turret’s spiralling stone stairwell. She had left the wooden door open on its heavy hinges, and on its threshold appeared a terribly hunchbacked man. One would have expected him to walk with an ungainly gait, but this man moved with sureness and grace, hopping out of the stairwell to face White-Eye.

His name was Monster. He was middle-aged and bent with bone troubles, but his smile lit the night. White-Eye had no use for torches or candles. With Faralok’s help she could see everything, including the spotted cat in Monster’s arms. Once, she had hated calling this gentle fellow by such an abhorrent name. Minikin had reminded her that Monster had chosen his name himself, and that slurs could not hurt him.

‘Kahana,’ said the man. He gave a bow that would have been impossible if not for supernatural help. ‘I was asked to find you. Mistress Minikin is arriving.’

The news heartened White-Eye. In the language of the north lands she said, ‘Minikin? She’s here?’

‘Very nearly, Kahana.’ Monster softly stroked his cat as he spoke. ‘Sir Lukien is with her.’

‘And Gilwyn? Has he come too?’

‘I’m sorry, Kahana, no,’ replied the hunchback. Although Monster was not Jadori – he had come to Grimhold from Nith as a child – he preferred calling the girl by her title. ‘Will you be coming? If you are busy . . .’

‘No,’ said White-Eye. ‘I am finished here.’

Monster smiled and stepped aside for her to pass. As she did he held the door open. Like everything the hunchback did, he did so gracefully. White-Eye thought about this as
she made her way toward the stairs. With the enormous strength his Akari gave him, Monster could have easily ripped the door from its iron hinges.

By the time Lukien and the others reached Grimhold, night had long since fallen. The fortress itself was almost impossible to see in the darkness, designed by its Akari builders to disappear into the mountain, but the kreels had no problem finding their home, and Lukien had only to ride his horse carefully and follow the uncanny reptiles. Carlan, the boy they were bringing to Grimhold, had fallen asleep during the ride, but when they finally reached the fabled stronghold the trumpet-blast of welcome roused him. Grimhold materialised like magic out of the darkness, taking shape out of the wall of rock, its turrets coming alive with light, its great, foreboding gate lifting on its stout chains. It was a scene Lukien had never gotten used to, and as the gate parted to reveal Grimhold’s secret folds he felt the same shiver of anticipation he saw now in Carlan’s face. Despite his blindness, the sandy-haired five-year-old teetered on the back of the kreel, awestruck by the furious noise of the gate and the soaring sense of Grimhold. Behind him, Minikin kept him from falling and happily chuckled at his surprise.

‘What is it?’ asked the boy.

‘This is Grimhold, Carlan,’ replied Minikin. ‘Your new home.’

The boy’s blind eyes widened dreadfully. ‘Oh . . .’

Laughing, Lukien sidled his horse up to the boy. ‘Do not worry, Carlan. It is not as bad as it may sound.’

‘Not at all,’ said Minikin. ‘You’ll be happy here.’

Carlan didn’t seem convinced, but Lukien wasn’t concerned. It had taken him a good while to become used to the amazing place and its inhabitants. As the gate reached its apex, he could see some of those inhabitants now. Like the very first time he had come to Grimhold a year ago, they appeared out of the darkness like misshapen wraiths,
bathed in torchlight, lining the galleries and ledges of the great hall, frightening even in their joy. Frightening still, after a year of knowing them and calling them friends. For a moment, Lukien was glad that Carlan could not see. There were blind among the Inhumans, certainly, but there were also others with far more gruesome maladies. Among the albinos like Ghost there were hunchbacks like Monster and one-armed men like Thorin, dozens and dozens of them who had been brought to this place over the decades to find peace in Grimhold’s protection. Before its discovery and renaming as ‘Mount Believer’, it had been fabled that Grimhold was a place of monsters. Once, Lukien had believed the tale. Getting to know these good folk had changed his mind considerably, though, and now that he wore the Eye of God he was one of them. He was Shalafein, their Great Protector.

At the threshold of the iron gate stood Greygor. He too was a protector of Grimhold, titled Guardian of the Gate. He was an immense man, like Minikin’s Trog, and as mute as the bodyguard, too, but by choice. Unlike Trog, Greygor had a tongue. He simply rarely chose to exercise it. He wore black armour with spikes and a helmet that he seldom removed, letting his long dark hair flow out from under it. Once, Greygor had been employed by a princeling, but he had loved a woman in the princeling’s harem and so had been horribly maimed for his crime. Nearly every bone in his body was broken, and was broken still, held together by Akari magic and a powerful spirit that gave the giant guardian enormous strength and stealth. It was impossible for Lukien to imagine the pain Greygor constantly endured, but the big man carried it quietly and without complaint, happy only to be of use to Minikin, who had saved him from death and uselessness.

Lukien dismounted, then helped Carlan and Minikin down from the back of their small kreel. The Jadori warriors who had accompanied them kept a respectable distance away from the gate. They still considered Grimhold
a holy place, and though they were welcome they rarely crossed its threshold, preferring instead to overnight in the village beyond the fortress. Trog got down from his own enormous kreel and went to stand beside Minikin. The little woman took hold of Carlan’s hand as she led him past the gate. As she approached, Greygor fell to a one-kneed bow, lowering his head. When Minikin told him to rise, he towered over the lady and her charge. Carlan lifted his head as if to stare in awe of the guardian.

‘Welcome to Grimhold, Carlan,’ said Minikin. ‘You will learn much here, and you will be happy. I promise you that.’

Carlan didn’t speak, but his mouth hung open just the same. Lukien quickly told his Jadori companions to see to his horse before heading through the gate. There was a place in Grimhold where the kreels and horses were kept, a small stable that Monster looked after. It was much less grand than the stables in the village where Lukien himself made his home, but he knew his mount would be safe there until he needed it. He was eager to get inside suddenly, to see Thorin and his other friends, and when he entered the fortress he was greeted at once by happy calls throughout the hall. The Inhumans – those strange and magical people he’d come to protect – always cheered him as a hero whenever he returned. He shook hands and slapped the backs of men and women who’d once been part of the tiny army he’d made of them, an army disbanded since the defeat of Liiria. But he was at once dismayed to see that Thorin was not among them. He had news for his old friend and expected the baron to be here waiting for him. Disappointed, he looked around and caught a glimpse of Meriel, standing apart from the other Inhumans, her face hidden in her cowl, her hands tucked beneath her flowing sleeves. Shyly, she watched him greet her fellow Inhumans. Lukien offered her a smile which she returned with a small nod. But she came no closer, and that bothered Lukien. Instead of waving her over he held up a hand, gesturing her
to wait for him. There was no way he could return home without greeting her properly. She was in love with him and he knew it. Before he could greet her, though, there was another young woman to see. White-Eye had come to welcome them home. She was already embracing Minikin, giving the tiny mistress a heartfelt kiss. Lukien beamed at her as he approached. She was a beautiful girl and easy to fall in love with, as Gilwyn had. Her sightless eyes spotted him coming forward. She turned and gave him a warm smile.

‘Sir Lukien,’ she said, her voice like music, ‘it is good to see you well.’

‘And it is always good to see you, Kahana,’ replied Lukien. Just as Greygor had greeted Minikin, Lukien fell to one knee before White-Eye. Taking her delicate, caramel hand, he placed a reverent kiss there. Of all the people in Grimhold that were his to protect, White-Eye was his particular business. He had taken her mother from her at birth, and had made a promise to her now-dead father to guard her. It was a task that weighed heavily on him constantly. White-Eye grinned at his attention, which always made her uncomfortable, and asked him to rise. When he did, she pulled him close and kissed his cheek.

‘I am happy you are safe,’ she said. She did not speak Jadori to him, but rather the language of his northern homeland. ‘The men that came ahead of you told us about the battle with the raiders.’