The Devil's Armour (Gollancz S.F.) (91 page)

Mirage sat at a table across the mess, chattering with Breck’s wife Kalla and some of the other women of the library. As Lukien ate and talked with his own comrades, she occasionally glanced toward him and smiled. Striving to be polite, Lukien always returned her smiles, maybe adding a nod but never being too encouraging. Mirage looked beautiful, he realised, and found himself stealing glances at her between dunking bits of bread into his stew of venison. More importantly, she looked happy, something she had never been in Grimhold. But his long day with Van had given Lukien much to think about, and he knew that soon Mirage’s happiness would end. Perhaps unintentionally, Van had convinced Lukien of the hopelessness of their plight. Knowing he would soon have to confront Mirage, Lukien nevertheless smiled as he ate his meal, determined to at least enjoy part of the gathering.

To Lukien’s pleasure, the talk at the table was not of war
or Baron Glass’ mission or Jazana Carr’s enormous wealth. Instead, Captain Aliston the archer told a good story about growing up in a small Liirian village and how he had nearly drowned in a creek when he was a boy. The tale opened the door to a plethora of similar near-disasters, and by the time it was Breck’s turn to talk he brought Lukien into the story.

‘Do you remember, Lukien?’ asked Breck, smiling with a mouthful of food. ‘That time you almost fell off one of the catwalks in Lionkeep?’ Breck turned to his men and laughed. ‘He wasn’t a boy, mind you – he did it as a dare!’

Lukien grinned, though the memory wasn’t all pleasant. ‘I remember hanging by my fingertips waiting for you to pull me up.’

‘We were always doing stupid things like that,’ said Breck. ‘When you’re young it’s easy to be dumb.’

Murdon messed up Aric’s hair and said, ‘Hear that, boy? Don’t be dumb.’

Aric had been particularly quiet the entire meal. Lukien guessed he was thinking about his father. ‘Stop calling me boy,’ he hissed, pulling away from Murdon.

Murdon plucked a chunk of meat from Aric’s plate and popped it into his mouth. ‘Sour-face.’ He looked around the table. ‘So? Where’s Van tonight, eh?’

Breck frowned. ‘I’ve talked to him about this. He’s supposed to be here for evening meals.’

‘He’s got an independent mind,’ said Murdon. ‘Always did. Likes to go his own way, Van.’

‘I’ve noticed,’ said Breck, and went back to eating.

‘He’s working on the walls,’ Lukien volunteered. ‘The ones at the west wing.’

Breck nodded. ‘I noticed you working with him today. They coming along?’

‘Well enough. Did you give him that assignment?’

‘I had him help with some mason work months ago,’ said Breck. ‘He took it on himself to build those fortifications. If battle comes I’m putting him in charge there.’

Murdon looked up with some alarm. ‘In charge where? The west wing?’

‘To protect the civilians, yes,’ said Breck. ‘He can do it. He’s got the heart for it.’

‘I’m not arguing about his heart,’ said Murdon. ‘It’s his head that bothers me.’

Lukien had already noticed how easily Murdon got away with things. Breck was indeed easy with him. And he knew there was truth in Murdon’s suspicions; Breck had already told Lukien about Van’s chequered past. But they all had chequered pasts now, didn’t they?

‘I think Van will do fine,’ Lukien spoke up. He looked around the table. The men had been surprised by his statement. He met their gazes one by one. ‘And I think Van’s right. Everyone’s just sitting here, dancing around the truth.’

‘What is the truth, Lukien?’ Breck challenged. ‘That we’re in danger? We’re all facing it, don’t fret. Every day we stare it in the face.’

It was plain that Breck didn’t want to talk about it. Lukien backed off. Wiping his face, he stood up and politely excused himself from the table. He wasn’t angry with Breck, just embarrassed, and knew he shouldn’t have said anything at all. But he had made his decision, and knew also that someone else was owed an explanation. Crossing the mess, he went to Mirage’s table. Breck’s wife Kalla was the first to spot him. When she did, the conversation among her women stopped. Lukien tilted his head toward her, for she was something like a queen among these ladies.

‘Excuse me,’ he said. He looked at Mirage. ‘Can we talk, please?’

Mirage’s expression was hopeful as she glanced at her friends. She pushed her plate forward and stood. ‘Yes, of course,’ she said, her voice a bit shaky. Her anxiousness reminded Lukien of how young she really was. It was unseemly to interrupt the way he had, but something inside
Lukien told him not to wait any more. There was a table near the entrance that was empty. Lukien pointed toward it.

‘We can talk over there,’ he said to Mirage. ‘It won’t take long.’

The girl’s magically made face deflated. ‘Oh. Well, what is it then? If it won’t take long you might just as well tell me here.’

Lukien’s lips twisted in a plea. ‘Mirage . . .’

She relented and awkwardly went toward the little table, her face reddening. Despite Lukien’s protests, everyone in the library still thought them spatting lovers, and Mirage had really done nothing to dispel the notion. And though he was more than twice her age, Lukien admitted liking the attention, especially from Breck’s younger soldiers. He followed Mirage to the table, ignoring the temporary stares of those around them, and waited for her to seat herself. Instead of taking the place beside her, he sat down on the other side of the table. At first Mirage regarded him coolly, but when she saw his troubled face she touched his hand.

‘Lukien? What is it?’

Lukien reached out and took her hand. It would be the last time he would explain this to her, perhaps the last time he would speak to her tenderly.

‘I want you to go,’ he said.

Mirage hesitated. ‘Go? What do you mean?’

‘It isn’t safe here any more. I thought it was but I was wrong. You can’t stay here any more, Mirage.’ Lukien lowered his voice. ‘It’s time for you to leave.’

A peculiar expression came over the girl’s face, as though she had been preparing for this conversation all along. ‘Lukien, where will I go?’ she asked. ‘There is nowhere for me except here. I belong with you. We came here together.’

‘Aye, but we can’t stay together. That was never part of our bargain. I brought you with me because I was heading north and you insisted on coming. I kept you safe, but I can’t keep you safe any longer.’

‘Why? What’s happened?’

‘Nothing has happened, not yet! But don’t you see the danger? Mirage, Thorin isn’t coming back. You and I might have thought so, but we were wrong. It was wrong of us to wait so long. He’s in danger, or dead. Maybe captured, I don’t know. But he’s not coming back and that means Jazana Carr
is
coming.’

Mirage shook her head. ‘No. I’m not leaving.’

‘Listen to me, girl. I’m talking about war. Do you know what happens to women in war? They don’t get the luxury of dying in battle.’

‘Stop trying to frighten me, Lukien.’

‘God’s above, I’m trying to make you listen. Just once, Meriel, listen to me.’ He let go of her hand and hardened his expression. ‘I do not love you.’

‘You do,’ the girl insisted. Tears struggled in her eyes. ‘I see it when you look at me.’

‘No, not that way. I care about you, yes, but you want a man to take you to his bed and make you his forever. I will never do that. My heart belongs to another and always shall.’

Mirage could not bring herself to look around the room, though they both knew others were watching. Her lower lip shuddered.

‘No,’ she whispered. ‘I do not believe you. You have not even tried to love me. You would rather go on pitying yourself.’ She looked at him sharply. ‘How long will you do that, Lukien? Forever? Until you die? And mark me – that will be a very long time yet, as long as you wear that amulet.’ She sat back. ‘Well, I have time too, and I will not leave here. I have nowhere to go and no one else who cares about me. I would rather die here than leave.’

‘Great Fate, you are made of iron,’ lamented Lukien. ‘How can I make you bend? You need to see the truth, and I cannot make you see.’ He looked at her, as closely as he could, but there was not a single flaw in her mask, nothing to reveal the frightened girl beneath her magic veil. He realised sadly that the mask blinded not just others, but her
as well. ‘I have not told you everything yet,’ he said softly. ‘If you will not leave and I cannot convince you, then at least you must know what I’ve planned. I am leaving, Meriel, and where I’m going you may not follow.’

The girl’s face went ashen. ‘Leaving?’ She glanced around to make sure no one overheard. ‘Lukien, how can you? You promised Breck—’

‘Wait, you don’t understand. I’m not going back to Grimhold, Meriel.’

‘Mirage,’ she insisted. ‘Do not call me that old name!’

‘I’ve played your game long enough,’ Lukien snapped. ‘You are Meriel, no matter what you call yourself. These others may not know you but I do, girl. I know what you were before this magic changed you.’

The girl eased back from the table. ‘Lower your voice,’ she implored. ‘Please, Lukien – you must call me Mirage. It is the bargain I struck with Minikin so that I could remain this way.’

‘Yes, so you could lure me into a love trap.’

‘So I could be whole,’ Mirage insisted. ‘Where are you going? After Thorin?’

Lukien nodded. ‘I have to.’

‘Oh? And what about your promise to Breck?’

‘Breck knows why I came here,’ said Lukien. ‘To find Thorin, to help him if I can. I’m not leaving them. I’m just doing what I came here to do. I’ll fight Jazana any way I can.’

The girl rolled her pretty eyes. ‘Is that what you’re telling yourself? It’s a lie, Lukien. You’re just running away.’

‘I am not running! If I can reach Thorin then maybe I can save everyone here. Even you, you ignorant girl.’

‘Lukien, listen to yourself. What makes you think you can save him all by yourself?’

‘I have the amulet,’ said Lukien. He was extra careful to moderate his voice, for he had not told anyone about the amulet, though he knew there had been rumours about him and his magical existence. ‘Minikin told me there was a way
for me to reach Thorin and defeat the armour. No one here can do it. If I can reach him before it’s too late . . .’ He shrugged, because he knew how hopeless it sounded. ‘I have to try, Meriel. Can you understand that?’

The girl’s young face softened. ‘I do understand. But what will you tell Breck?’

‘The truth. He’ll understand. If I can come back I will. And if I succeed I’ll have spared him a terrible fate. All of you, really.’

‘And if you don’t return?’

Lukien paused. They both knew the answer.

‘Then I will be dead,’ he said.

Meriel. He called her that because he remembered her still as the sad young woman he’d first met, hiding her face from the world in an ugly wool cloak. He had not wanted to anger her by using her name – he had wanted to reach her.

‘Forgive me,’ he said softly. ‘If I have hurt you . . .’

Quickly she shook her head. ‘It does not matter. Return to me, Lukien. No matter where you go, make sure of that.’

He smiled, because her love for him knew no logic at all. He was about to leave her when he noticed her raise her eyes across the room.

‘What’s this?’ she asked, frowning suddenly.

Lukien turned toward the entrance, noticing only now that the conversations in the hall had halted. Breck was standing. Like everyone his eyes were on the man on the threshold. Vanlandinghale had entered the mess, his face disturbed and drawn. In his arms he held a metal case, a cubical strongbox riveted with iron and heavy from the look of it. He looked at Breck helplessly, lost for words.

‘Van?’ Breck stepped closer to him. ‘What is it, man?’ His eyes went to the box. ‘What’s that?’

‘A coach brought it,’ said Van, his voice thin. He licked his pale lips. ‘A coach without a driver.’

‘What? Make sense, man. What coach?’

‘A carriage,’ said Van. ‘I was outside with some of the
others, some stableboys. The coach drove up the road and stopped in the courtyard. Without a driver! The horses just . . . I don’t know, they just stopped.’ He held out the iron box. ‘This was inside the cab.’

Breck looked at Lukien, who went to stand beside him. Mirage went with him, and soon others began circling around, curious about Van’s peculiar story. Everyone stared at the chest in his arms.

‘It was Onikil’s coach,’ he croaked.

Breck blanched. ‘Count Onikil?’

Van nodded slowly.

‘And there was no one else? No rider, nothing?’

‘No,’ Van replied. ‘Nobody.’

‘How do you know it’s Onikil’s coach?’ asked Murdon.

‘I’m sure it is,’ said Van. ‘I remember seeing it when Baron Glass left.’ He pointed out of the chamber. ‘It’s still in the courtyard. I can show you.’

‘Wait,’ said Breck. He gestured to the chest. ‘Put it down.’

Van did so then stepped back, glad to be away from it. While the onlookers gawked, only Lukien went closer. He hovered over the metal chest, sure there was nothing good inside it. Mirage grasped his arm.

‘Thorin,’ he whispered, dreading the thing’s contents. Was Jazana that ruthless? he wondered.