The Devil's Armour (Gollancz S.F.) (48 page)

She would miss him.

She waited. Ignoring the heat of the day, she continued her vigil on the rock, waiting for the first evidence of
Minikin’s arrival. Hunger began to tug at her but she ignored it. Afternoon slipped nearly into evening, and she began to give up hope. She rose and stretched, disappointed, at last preparing to leave when finally she saw the figures on the horizon. A small group of kreel made their way through the canyon, following the secret way toward Grimhold. Meriel’s heart leapt, for she knew that Minikin had returned. Excited, she turned to hurry away from the rock, but the magnitude of her request made her pause. She turned and looked back out over the desert. Past the crags she saw the speck that was Minikin and wondered what the Mistress of Grimhold would say to her request.

‘I will beg if I must,’ Meriel resolved. ‘But I will not let her refuse me.’

Whenever Minikin returned to Grimhold she went first to visit White-Eye. It was no secret among the Inhumans that the blind girl was like a daughter to Minikin. Her father Kadar, who had been Kahan of Jador before his death in battle a year ago, had been a lifelong friend of Minikin’s, as well as a benefactor and protector of Grimhold. Because of the protective darkness of the keep Kadar had sent his light-sensitive child to live with Minikin in Grimhold when she was but an infant, and Minikin had mothered the girl as if she were her own.

Meriel had never been jealous of White-Eye’s relationship with Minikin. The Mistress of Grimhold had tried mightily to treat her like a daughter too, but she had failed because Meriel had mostly spurned her affection. Meriel realised that and so did not fret when Minikin spent time with White-Eye, as she did tonight. Instead Meriel waited patiently for the mistress to finish her audience with the kahana, to tell her all about her lover Gilwyn and the status of things in Jador and to gossip about simpler things, the way friends do. Meriel stalked the halls of Grimhold, keeping her cowl wrapped around her face and avoiding the other Inhumans. She did not dine when the dinner hour
came, for she was afraid of seeing Thorin. Her own single-mindedness quashed whatever hunger she felt, until at last she saw Minikin again.

As always, Minikin’s giant bodyguard Trog accompanied her as she walked down the hall. She looked weary, for it was a difficult ride from Jador and always took a toll on the tiny woman. But her face remained glowing and her elvish expression lit the hall as she greeted her ‘children’, those others like Meriel who lived in Grimhold. Meriel kept to the shadows as Minikin made her way closer. She was on her way to the dining hall, Meriel supposed, and the thought of waiting even longer to talk to her was torturous. As the little woman padded closer, Meriel stepped out of the shadows to confront her. Minikin stopped as if she expected the interruption.

‘Minikin,’ said Meriel sheepishly. ‘Welcome home.’

The little woman smiled, looking up past the fabric that hid Meriel’s face. ‘Hello, child,’ she said. She seemed genuinely glad the young woman had come to greet her. ‘Have you waited to sup with me?’

‘No,’ replied Meriel nervously. ‘Minikin, I have to speak with you.’

Minikin held out her little hand. ‘Good. Then come and eat and we shall talk.’

‘No, no, not here,’ said Meriel. ‘Please, I want to speak to you alone. It’s important.’

Minikin’s elvish face creased. ‘What is the matter, Meriel? Is something wrong?’

‘Perhaps something is
right
, Minikin, for the first time in years. I’ve made an important decision but I need your help with it.’ Meriel looked around, and through the folds of her cowl noticed others nearby. ‘Please,’ she whispered, ‘I don’t want others to hear me.’

Suspicion crept over Minikin’s face. She studied Meriel for a long while, letting the girl shift uncomfortably under her gaze. For Meriel it was like having icy hands crawl over her brain, for she knew that Minikin could read her
thoughts and pull the secrets from her mind. Finally the little woman nodded. She turned to her massive bodyguard.

‘Trog, go and eat. I’ll see you again as soon as I can.’

The great mute looked displeased, but never disobeyed his mistress. He lumbered past Meriel and made his way toward the dining hall without a sound. When he was out of earshot Minikin looked at Meriel again.

‘You have me worried, child. What is this thing you would discuss with me?’

‘Not here, please. Can we go somewhere else? Somewhere others can’t hear?’

‘To your rock perhaps?’ Minikin queried. ‘I’ve heard from the others that you’ve been spending much time in your hiding place, Meriel.’

Meriel knew she wasn’t being insulted; it wasn’t Minikin’s way to hurt people. Yet she was embarrassed by the forward question.

‘I spend time there because it makes me happy to be away from the keep,’ she said. ‘It’s quiet there and I can think.’

‘Good. Then we won’t be disturbed.’ Minikin’s smile was genuine. ‘Take me there, child. We will talk in secrets like two schoolgirls.’

‘What? Oh, no, Minikin. It’s too much of a climb . . .’

‘Nonsense. My little legs are stronger than they look. Come on.’

Meriel was flabbergasted, but there was no arguing with the mistress at times like this. It didn’t matter that it was dark now or that the place was high up on a cliff – Minikin wanted to see it. In an odd way, it even pleased Meriel. She led the way out of the hall and through the keep, walking slowly so that Minikin could keep up. Others stopped to speak with them along the way, but each time Minikin politely refused conversation, devoting her attention to Meriel instead. They came to the great gate at the mouth of the keep, where Greygor the gate-keeper waited with his aides. He was another massive fellow, who like Trog kept
silent all of the time. The gate, however, had remained opened since Minikin’s arrival, revealing the dark desert landscape beyond. Greygor, encased in the armour that held his broken body together, dropped to one knee when he saw Minikin approach. To Meriel he looked as tall and as wide as the gate itself. She had always feared the great man, though he had never given her cause.

‘Greygor, keep the gate open for us,’ said Minikin. ‘We will return soon.’

Just as Trog had not questioned her orders, Greygor merely nodded his metal-cased head. Minikin gestured to one of the torches on the wall.

‘Meriel,’ she said, ‘bring us some light.’

Having no need of torches, Meriel put her hand to the burning object and scooped up a ball of jumping flames. This she held in her palm like a lantern, effortlessly keeping it alive. For the first time in days she could feel Sarlvarian clearly now. It was his magic that kept the flame dancing, all without searing her flesh.

‘Take me to your secret place,’ Minikin directed.

With her palmful of flame lighting the way, Meriel stepped out of the keep and into the desert night. The sky was clear but the moon was a sliver, and only the beacon in her hand lighted the sand that forever lapped at the threshold of Grimhold. Minikin stepped out after her, unafraid as she followed Meriel away from the keep toward the looming cliffs. Because she knew the way so well Meriel hardly needed light at all, but she walked deliberately as she picked her way over the rocks so that Minikin could keep up. To her surprise the little lady in her magical coat moved effortlessly through the night, never more than a pace behind her. At one point she urged Meriel to move faster. Meriel did so, climbing the path she had worn into the mountainside as they made their way to her private outcropping of rock. Like the jaw of a giant, the rock jutted out from the side of the cliff, as though some godlike architect had built a private balcony for her. When they
reached it, Minikin walked to the edge of the rock and nodded approvingly.

‘So this is where you go when I don’t know where you are,’ she said. ‘Now I see why. It’s lovely here.’

Meriel was no longer embarrassed. Instead she felt oddly proud of the little place she had discovered, and was glad to finally be sharing it with Minikin. At the base of the rock she gathered some dried shrubbery and sticks, which she arranged near the edge by Minikin. When she had a little pile she touched the flame in her palm to it, passing the fire from her hand to the tinder. It was hardly enough fuel for a fire, yet the tinder burned without really burning, holding the magical flame but not sending up even a wisp of smoke.

‘Quite a gift,’ commented Minikin when she saw what Meriel had done. Meriel grimaced, not sure of the lady’s full meaning. She sat herself down cross-legged before the little fire and stared at it a moment.

‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘It’s been . . . useful.’

‘Your gift protects you from pain,’ Minikin reminded her. The little woman sat down across from her, studying her face in the feeble light. ‘You would suffer without it.’

‘I suffer now, Minikin. Every day.’

‘Your suffering is of the heart, child. I’m talking about suffering of the body. Have you forgotten the pain you were in before Sarlvarian?’

‘How could I?’

Minikin left the question open-ended. ‘You want to leave here, don’t you?’

Meriel nodded.

‘Is that what you want from me? My blessing to leave Grimhold?’

‘I wish it were so simple, Minikin. But no, I want something more.’

‘Remove your cowl,’ bid Minikin gently. ‘You have no need to hide from me.’

It had always been her custom to hide her face from everyone but Lukien. Only he had insisted that she never
shy away, and she loved him for that. But Minikin’s mild words coaxed Meriel’s cowl down, revealing her horribly scarred face.

‘It is well that you should see me as I truly am,’ said Meriel, ‘because I do not wish to be this way any longer. Look at me, Minikin. Look at my ugliness and tell me that you cannot understand this wish.’

‘I understand,’ said Minikin. ‘It is hard for you, I know.’

‘No, you don’t understand. You don’t know what I’m asking, do you?’

‘Here in Grimhold your thoughts are your own. I have the tools to pry them open if that’s what you want. Or can you find the words to tell me yourself?’

Suddenly Meriel was afraid. The courage she had cultivated throughout the day fled as she looked at Minikin across the night gloom. ‘Minikin, I wish to leave here, but not as I am. I want to change,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to return to the world as a monster. I want to change the way I look.’ She steeled herself before concluding, ‘I want to change my Akari.’

It was rare to see Minikin stunned, but she was so now. Her eyes blinked in disbelief, and for a moment she made no sound at all. Meriel hurried to fill the silence.

‘I have thought about this hard. It’s all I’ve thought about, really. I want to look normal, Minikin, like I did before the fire. I want an Akari that can do that for me, change my appearance the way Ghost does.’

‘But Sarlvarian . . .’

‘I know,’ said Meriel, ‘and I’m sorry to even be saying this. If it weren’t so important I would never ask such a thing. But it is possible, yes? If Ghost can make himself appear to vanish, cannot another Akari make me look normal again?’

It was a struggle for Minikin to reply. ‘Yes,’ she said finally. ‘It is possible. But what you ask has never been done before, child. No Inhuman has ever shunned her Akari.’ She glanced down at the amulet around her neck, the one
that held the essence of Lariniza. It began to pulse, not angrily but sadly. Minikin’s face grew troubled. ‘The others – Amaraz and his sister – they will not be pleased.’

‘But you can make them allow it,’ Meriel begged. ‘They’ll listen to you. If you tell them how important this is to me, they will let you do this for me. And you can find another host for Sarlvarian. The boy you brought from Jador, perhaps.’

‘Carlan? You seem to have thought of everything.’

‘Minikin, this is not easy for me. But look at me!’ She put her face closer to the fire, held out her hands for Minikin to inspect. Even in the weak light the scars were unmistakable. ‘I can’t go on like this, being alone. Being unloved. I want to be whole again. If there’s a way you must help me find it.’

‘But you are not unloved, Meriel. I love you. The other Inhumans love you.’

Meriel leaned back and tried to mask her thoughts. ‘That’s not what I mean.’

‘No. I see that now. You mean the love of a man. You want Lukien to love you.’

Hotness flushed Meriel’s face. ‘It’s not so simple.’

‘He never will, Meriel.’

‘Minikin, you’re presuming too much . . .’

‘He never will,’ repeated the mistress firmly. ‘He’s in love with another. A memory, perhaps, but another just the same. Mark me, child – I could have the Akari change you into a goddess, and Lukien would still not have eyes for you.’

Minikin’s frankness made Meriel bristle. ‘He cares for me, Minikin. I know he does. He’s kind and good to me and he spends time with me. He would love me were I not so hideous.’

‘He already loves you, as a brother loves a sister. But as a man loves a woman? No. Never. Not while Cassandra still haunts him.’

‘Minikin, please,’ begged Meriel. ‘I was pretty before the burning. In time I can make him forget Cassandra.’

‘No,’ said Minikin. ‘I can’t let you believe that. It’s a lie, and if you live a lie you will always be unhappy.’

‘But I am unhappy! Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you see what living like a monster is like for me?’