The Devil's armour

10

Upon hearing the news of the Seekers from Liiria, Baron Glass wanted to see them at once. But Minikin had only just returned to Grimhold, and was unwilling to make the trip back to Jador so quickly. Because Baron Glass could not easily travel alone, he was forced to be patient and wait for the little woman to get her fill of her Inhumans and her strange home while he plied Lukien with questions about the Liirians, questions the Bronze Knight was reluctant to answer. Thorin quickly learned that Lukien had deliberately spent little time with his former countrymen and was unable — or unwilling — to talk about them. So Thorin, already eager to see Gilwyn and put some distance between himself and Meriel, could barely wait to leave for Jador.

But wait he did. For two days he refused to push Minikin on the subject. She was a woman of few words and never argued — she simply told things as they were. What she told Baron Glass was that they would return to Jador within a week. Blessedly, it was far less than a week. After three days, Minikin told Baron Glass to prepare for the journey. They left for Jador at dawn the next morning.

Unfortunately for Thorin, they set out by kreel. Although he could still ride a horse with only one arm, he could do so only slowly and carefully, and so had never made the desert journey on his own. Rather, he shared one of the giant lizards with a Jadori warrior, a slight to his pride he had never gotten used to. Like every day in the desert, this one started off cool but quickly turned blistering. In his long year in Grimhold, Thorin had only once seen the sky give rain and had almost forgotten what clouds looked like. Today the sky was impossibly blue. The flatlands shimmered with mirages. The distant hills seemed to grow no closer. Thorin knew the kreels would have them in Jador after sunset, and so he tried to relax during the journey, but his mind raced with questions he would pose to the Liirians. There were only five of them making the journey this time, and Lukien was not among them. For a reason Thorin couldn’t guess, Lukien had lapsed into another of his silences shortly after returning home, and showed no interest in returning to Jador right away.

‘Gilwyn will have you to protect him,’ the Bronze Knight had told Thorin. It was his way of making the old Baron feel useful. Thorin made no effort to convince his friend to join them. Lukien had shouldered more than his share of duties lately and needed the rest.

Besides himself, Minikin, and her bodyguard Trog, the others making the journey were all Jadori warriors. As such, they spoke very little during the crossing. Thorin had learned early that the desert folk expended precious little energy on words. They were never disrespectful or unfriendly; they were simply quiet. Like Trog, they said almost nothing at all. Minikin herself was quiet, too. Though she spoke from time to time with her bodyguard, she seldom turned to see how Thorin was doing, and even when they rested her conversation was curt. Baron Glass knew Minikin was worried. He did not need her vaunted mind powers to know what she was thinking — she didn’t want him speaking to the Seekers. She had warned him that they would only tell him things he could do nothing to change. But she had relented in the end, because she knew how important Liiria was to him and because there was simply nothing she could do to stop him.

Baron Glass had never grown close to Minikin, though he did respect her. She had a million problems plaguing her these days and handled them all with steel and grace. But she had never come to him for counsel the way she had Lukien, and that bothered Baron Glass, fuelling his feelings of uselessness. He would be grateful when they reached Jador, he decided. Then he would see Gilwyn and have some friendly talk.

As expected, they reached the city well after nightfall. The place was awash in moonlight, looking splendid and white. They came through the western gate of the city, which had always been unguarded until Akeela’s army had come. Now, because of Prince Aztar’s raiders, there were still Jadori warriors patrolling the wall. When they saw Ela-daz they opened the gate immediately, giving her entrance to the city. Minikin greeted them warmly, and a pair of the dark-skinned men stepped forward at once, volunteering to escort her to the palace, which was easily seen in the clear night, towering above the rest of Jador, its minarets reflecting moonlight like cut gems. They were all exhausted from the trip, but the thought of seeing Gilwyn buoyed them, particularly Thorin. It had been weeks since he had seen the young man.

Because it was not yet late, Jador’s streets remained full of people. As always, the Jadori welcomed Ela-daz with waves and calls of adoration, offering smiles to Baron Glass as well. Thorin nodded and waved, acknowledging their praise even as it embarrassed him. He was not such a hero as Lukien, whom the Jadori seemed to worship, but he could feel that their respect for him was genuine. The group did not dismount, however, or spend much time with the people. Instead they pressed on to the palace, where they were sure Gilwyn would be waiting for them.

Indeed, the young regent did not disappoint them. It was always impossible to keep news of Minikin’s arrival contained, and so Gilwyn greeted them in the palace’s ornate garden with a huge smile on his face. He looked weary but undeniably happy to see them, and when their kreels sauntered into the garden he rushed forward.

‘Thorin!’ he exclaimed. ‘I knew you’d come!’ Then he produced a wide grin for Minikin. ‘And Minikin. I’ve been waiting for you!’

Minikin let Gilwyn help her down from the kreel. ‘It’s not been so long, Gilwyn. I told you — patience is a good thing for a regent.’

‘You left me wondering, and you know it,’ said Gilwyn. ‘I’m ready to learn.’

‘And I’m ready for some rest,’ said Minikin, stretching her little body. She shook out her long white hair, then nodded at the waiting Gilwyn. ‘I know you’ve been waiting. I promise you — we will talk. But let us rest a bit first, hmm?’

‘And eat,’ said Baron Glass. Eager to be down from his mount, he slid off the reptile’s back after the Jadori rider, who gave him a steadying hand. ‘We feasted on dried bread and fruit all day, if you can call that a feast. Let’s have some wine and meat, all of us.’ He inspected Gilwyn carefully. ‘Have you eaten, boy? You look like one of my saddle sores.’

Gilwyn sighed wearily. ‘No, I’ve been busy tonight talking with some of the warriors.’

Minikin raised an eyebrow. ‘About the kreel again?’

‘Minikin, they’re all worried,’ said Gilwyn. ‘If we don’t find more we won’t be able to defend ourselves.’

‘Kreel breed in their own time, Gilwyn,’ said Minikin. ‘The Jadori know that.’

Baron Glass reached out and tousled Gilwyn’s hair. ‘That big brain of yours needs food, boy.’

‘We’ll go in and get a meal,’ said Gilwyn, then suddenly frowned. ‘No Lukien?’

‘I’m afraid not, Gilwyn, not this time,’ said Minikin gently. ‘Lukien needs some time to himself, I think.’

‘He’s all right, isn’t he?’

‘He’s fine,’ replied Thorin. ‘He’s just troubled about what happened, killing those raiders. We never think it bothers Lukien to kill, but it does.’

Gilwyn nodded. ‘I know. I’m glad he didn’t come. He’s been patrolling too much lately. Which is why we need more kreel, Minikin. Having Lukien helps, but even he’s not going to be enough if Aztar ever really attacks us.’

Minikin smiled. ‘Let us go inside now.’

‘Minikin, we need to talk about this. .’

But the mistress was already making her way through the garden, her bodyguard Trog close on her heels. A sour expression crossed Gilwyn’s face as he watched her go.

‘She doesn’t listen to me,’ he grumbled. ‘Some regent I am.’

Thorin was quick to offer support. ‘That’s not it, Gilwyn. She’s got a lot on her mind, just as you do. And it’s been a long ride. She’s tired.’

The explanation appeased Gilwyn. With a boy’s enthusiasm, he asked, ‘Did you hear, Thorin? Minikin’s come back to teach me about my Akari. Finally, I’m going to find out about her.’

‘I know, and I’m pleased for you,’ said Thorin. He put his arm around Gilwyn as he led him back toward the palace. ‘It’s a great mystery to me, this Akari business. If it makes you happy, fine. Me, I’ll never understand it, or how a spirit could ever speak to someone.’

He volunteered nothing of his encounter with Kahldris, or how the dead Akari had spoken to him in his bedroom. He merely left the garden with Gilwyn, eager for food and answers about the Liirian Seekers.

There were no arguments during dinner that night. Baron Glass had rested and washed himself, then taken a hearty meal with Minikin and Gilwyn and some of the palace’s Jadori servants in a dining hall full of mosaic windows, a remnant from the glory days of White-Eye’s dead father. The mood was good around the table, passing figs and dates and flat bread to each other and leaning back on the pillows to laugh at Jadori jokes, which Thorin only half-understood. The servants who joined them weren’t really servants at all, because although Gilwyn had been declared regent over Jador he was uncomfortable in his role and held it only in the most informal fashion. They were all equals, not only around the table but everywhere else, and those who brought the food to them sat down to partake in the meal.

Minikin herself remained distracted most of the time. Expertly avoiding Gilwyn’s questions, she told him only that his lessons would begin tomorrow, and that all his queries would be answered then. The boy found it hard to restrain his enthusiasm. It had been a year since Minikin had first told him of his Akari, a spirit that had been gifted to him as an infant. He knew her name was Ruana and that she had been a young woman when she died, but Minikin had kept mostly everything else secret, and Thorin knew that vexed Gilwyn. The young regent didn’t eat much at the supper. Anxious for the morning, he played with his food and gave most of it to his pet monkey, Teku, who sat happily on his shoulder as her master passed plump dates her way. Her tiny hands held the fruit with precision as she ate, precision that Gilwyn himself had never mastered because of his clubbed hand. Once, Teku had been the young man’s saviour. Before Figgis — his former master in Liiria — had fashioned a boot for him to walk, Teku had compensated for him, climbing to fetch things out of reach and gingerly turning the pages of books. She was a remarkable creature, truly, but she was old now and it was good that Gilwyn had less use for her. Thorin didn’t know if it was the desert air or simply becoming a man that had made Gilwyn stronger, but he could walk on his own well now and seldom called upon his simian friend for assistance. Teku didn’t seem to mind her retirement, though. Gilwyn still loved and doted on her, and she went with him almost everywhere in the palace, perching on his shoulder like a loyal bird.

Baron Glass deftly avoided the topic of the Seekers. It was a sore subject for Minikin, he knew, so he waited until the meal was over and the little mistress left the room before broaching it with Gilwyn. As the giant Trog departed after Minikin, the room grew suddenly larger. Thorin sidled over to Gilwyn, settling down next to him on a red silk pillow. While the Jadori cleaned the table, Thorin spoke to Gilwyn in Liirian.

‘So,’ he said almost absently, ‘we should talk about the Seekers.’ He took one of the dates from Gilwyn’s plate and twirled it between his fingertips. ‘What do you know about them?’

Gilwyn looked at his friend slyly. ‘I’m surprised you were able to wait so long. I was wondering when you’d ask me about them.’

‘I had to wait until Minikin was gone first,’ Thorin conceded. ‘Do you know where they are?’

The young man nodded. ‘Out in the south side of the town. I’ve been working with them, trying to find housing for them. Their leader is a man named Paxon, from Koth.’

‘Koth?’ Excitement bubbled in Thorin. ‘That is interesting. Lukien didn’t mention that, not surprisingly.’

‘I’m sure he didn’t want to get your hopes up,’ said Gilwyn. ‘And really, what good does it do us to know where they’re from?’

The question frustrated Thorin, who squashed the date in his fingers then wiped his hand on a cloth. ‘You and Lukien are too much alike. Don’t you even care what’s happening back home?’

‘This is our home now, Thorin. Maybe you don’t know that yet, but you should. Chasing after these people won’t do you any good. They came here to escape Liiria, remember. There’s nothing left for any of us there.’

‘I’d rather find that out for myself, thank you. I left a family behind in Liiria, you know.’

‘Sixteen years ago.’

‘That makes no difference. Remember what Jazana Carr told me, boy — she intends to kill them, given the chance. If she’s on the move. .’

‘You don’t know that, Thorin.’

‘Precisely why I have to find these Seekers! Now, you have a big day tomorrow so I won’t make you come with me.’

Gilwyn laughed. ‘Oh, thank you.’

‘I’ll go to them myself. Just tell me where to find this Paxon.’

The village outside the white wall had never been Thorin’s favourite place. It was crowded and dirty and — because it was jammed with northerners — it reminded him sadly of home.

It was very late by the time he made his way out of the city gate, but the township and its peoples were still mostly awake. There was very little to do once the sun went down, but the breaking of the desert heat was always celebrated and the people gathered in squares and makeshift pubs to gamble and gossip. Dogs barked and cats ran past Thorin’s feet after mice that had somehow followed his northern brethren across the desert. The night smelled of sweat and sand and of the peculiar liquors the Jadori brewed, which had quickly become popular among the hopeless folk of the township. As always, the nighttime sky was desert perfect. Clear and endless, it twinkled with stars.

Gilwyn had told Thorin exactly where to find the house of Paxon. Because the house was on the southern end of the township, he needed no horse to make his way there. Instead he went on foot, confident that he would be safe among the populace. Many of them were northerners like himself, after all, and like him they were trapped in a place they didn’t want to be. Though they clamoured to get into Grimhold and he clamoured to get out, they had much in common, and Thorin pitied them for that. As he moved through the crowded streets, still jammed with vendors, he ignored the stares and gestures of those he passed, not wanting to speak to anyone. He sought only the new Seekers from Liiria, and they only because they had fresh news. Thorin was hungry for news. Anything, any small morsel they could toss him, would be devoured.

The smell of Ganjeese cooking filled the air as Thorin made his way to the south quarter. It was the Ganjeese who had built the township years ago, content to live outside the Jadori wall and build their own peaceful trading post in the shadow of their Jadori neighbours. When the Seekers had started coming, the Ganjeese had made room for them. They were all cut off from the world now, kept from returning across the desert by the bloodthirsty Aztar, and the Ganjeese seemed to accept this with the usual grace of their ilk. In the south quarter, there were far more Ganjeese than northerners. Their homes were better, too. Built with permanence in mind, they were not the hastily constructed shacks the Seekers had thrown up. Being in the south quarter was like being in a corner of Ganjor itself, full of music and exotic smells and dotted with tiled minarets. Thorin took a deep breath as he walked through the narrow avenues, happy to be in the company of real people, away from the stifling air of Grimhold. As he made his way to the house where Paxon was now settled, he stopped at one of the nighttime stalls and bought bread-wrapped sausage from one of the vendors, paying for it with a worn-out coin. The dark-skinned merchant looked at him peculiarly, unsure whether or not to take the money from the baron. Thorin smiled and turned away before he could refuse. Holding the food tightly in his single hand, he stuffed it into his mouth as he walked. Though his mind raced with his mission to find Paxon, he was determined to enjoy his brief freedom.

He went on through the avenue, unhassled, until at last he found the bank of homes Gilwyn had told him about. A row of small, pretty houses of Ganjeese architecture greeted him with oblong windows and shingles of bright red clay. As he entered the street, he saw a man and a child seated on the ground outside one of the homes. The man had a book in his hand. The child — a girl — wore an enraptured expression. For Thorin, it took only a moment to recognise their Liirian garb. There were others in the street as well, men and women, but all of these had the swarthy skin of desert folk. Only the man with the book and his fresh-faced charge were northerners. The sight of them struck Thorin hard. He paused, staring at them as he wiped his greasy hand on his hip. Gilwyn had described Paxon as a grey-haired man of middle age, and this fellow fit that sketch perfectly. There was a weak smile on his face as he read to the girl, ignoring everyone else around him. Baron Glass did not go unnoticed, however. A woman chatting with some friends caught his eye and pointed. Thorin held up his hand to silence her, and she fell quiet. But it was the quiet that finally nabbed Paxon’s attention. He looked up from his storybook and glanced at Baron Glass, his eyes going from mildly annoyed to astonished in an instant.

Thorin looked around. He saw no other northerners. With a slight smile he stepped forward. ‘I am looking for a man named Paxon,’ he said. ‘I’ve heard that he lives here. Might you be he?’

The man nodded. The little girl looked equally astonished.

‘I’m Paxon,’ he said. He kept the storybook opened in his lap. ‘You’re a Liirian. You’re Baron Glass.’

‘I’m afraid I have that ugly distinction, yes,’ said Thorin. He could feel the eyes of the gathering Ganjeese on him. The growing crowd made him uncomfortable. He took another step toward Paxon, smiling down at the girl and noticing her twisted leg. He said to her, ‘You’re Melini, aren’t you? Gilwyn Toms told me about you.’

The girl seemed too frightened to answer. Before she uttered a word a woman came out of the house, stopping at once when she saw Thorin. This was Melini’s mother, guessed Thorin, the one named Calith. According to Gilwyn, they were sharing this house along with a family of Ganjeese.

‘I’m not here with any special news, good or bad,’ said Thorin quickly. ‘I just want to talk. To you, Paxon, if that would be all right.’

Paxon looked both excited and confused. ‘Did the one called Minikin send you? We’ve been waiting. .’

‘No,’ said Thorin. ‘I came on my own to speak to you. I have questions, about Liiria.’

A dashed expression washed Paxon’s face. He slowly closed the book and shook his head. ‘The knight Lukien said the mistress would speak to us,’ he muttered. ‘We have been waiting days for word. Still nothing, you say?’

‘You must have word, Baron Glass,’ said the woman Calith. She went to her daughter Melini and rested a hand on the girl’s head. ‘Please, tell us something. Anything.’

Thorin knew he should have expected the reaction, but was unprepared for it. He stammered an apology. ‘No, I’m sorry. I really came of my own accord.’ He looked at Paxon. ‘I have no news for you, nor influence with Minikin. But I would be grateful for your time. Like you, I’m a Liirian who’s trapped here.’

‘Trapped?’ The term surprised Paxon. ‘You live in Mount Believer, sir. You are blessed.’

‘You know the woman Minikin, the one Lukien told us about,’ said Calith. ‘What has she said of our petition?’

‘No one knows the workings of Minikin’s mind, especially not I,’ replied Thorin. ‘It’s true, I do live in Grimhold, but I have no sway over who is allowed in and who is not, nor has Minikin told me anything about you. It was the boy, Gilwyn Toms, who told me where to find you.’

Paxon dropped the book to the dirt and rose to his feet. ‘Then the Bronze Knight has lied to us,’ he said angrily. ‘He said that Minikin would speak to us, but she has not. He said that things would be explained, but we are left here deaf and blind. And now you come to ask questions of us? I know you, Baron Glass. I am old enough to remember you. I did not believe you were alive until I came here.’ He gestured to the many Ganjeese surrounding them. ‘These people told me it was true, that you were still alive. When I heard that — and when I saw the Bronze Knight Lukien — I thought you would help us.’

Paxon’s words stung Thorin, but he did not show it. He kept his features hard as he replied, ‘I would still have words with you, though you think me a scoundrel. Will you let me ask my questions, Paxon? Or shall I go now and leave you here?’

It seemed to take great effort for Paxon to make his decision. He looked around at his dark-skinned hosts, then at Calith. Finally he replied, ‘We’ll talk, but not here. Walk with me. I know a place.’

Calith hurried him a cautioning glance. ‘No, Paxon, don’t bury yourself in drink again.’

‘It’s the only thing that helps, Calith,’ said Paxon. ‘Finish the story for Melini, then put her to bed.’ He sighed and walked toward Thorin. ‘Come with me, Baron Glass.’

Without saying goodnight to the woman and child, Thorin followed Paxon away from the house back into the avenue of merchants. It was good to get away from the crowd, but he soon noticed that Paxon was leading him to one of the quarter’s many taverns, or shrana houses as they were called by the Ganjeese. Shrana houses were scattered throughout the township, just as they were in Ganjor. And shrana houses meant lots of people.

‘We can talk out here,’ said Thorin. ‘We don’t need to go inside.’

‘I need to go inside. If you want to talk, you’ll come with me.’

Thorin relented, letting Paxon hold aside the beaded door for him as they entered the tavern. The smell of shrana — that bitter, black liquor — crept up Thorin’s nose. He had never acquired a taste for it or understood how anyone could, but its adherents were everywhere in the public house, sipping the steaming drink from little cups as they huddled around circular tables to talk and gamble. Thorin’s eyes quickly adjusted to the dark. Paxon located an empty table at the far end of the place and led Thorin to it. There were no chairs around the short table, just pillows and rugs to rest on. They sat down just as a pretty young woman came to the table.

‘Rahos,’ said Paxon. He held up two fingers. The woman nodded and disappeared into the crowd. Though Thorin knew very little Ganjeese, he knew that rahos wasn’t shrana. Rahos was a much harder drink, a clear alcohol often used to liven up a cup of shrana. Some drank it straight, though, like Paxon. Thorin had tried rahos twice before and hadn’t liked it, but he was suddenly in the mood for a hard drink. He didn’t say anything to Paxon while they waited for the woman to return, and the head of the Liirian Seekers offered nothing in return. The awkward silence was brief, however. The woman returned with two cups and an entire jug of rahos. Apparently, she knew Paxon’s drinking habits. The Liirian picked up the jug and poured a cupful of the stuff for each of them, then emptied his own cup quickly down his gullet before refilling. His eyes watered a bit but he didn’t cough at all.

‘It helps the pain,’ he explained. ‘I have a cancer, Baron Glass.’

‘I know,’ said Thorin. ‘I was told. I’m sorry for you.’

‘I came here thinking I’d find something better than liquor to aid me, but the real medicine is being kept from me. It’s being kept from all of us, Baron. I wonder how it is you can live with yourself.’

‘The power of Grimhold is not for me to give, my friend. To be truthful, I hardly understand it at all. But you must know this — Minikin does not withhold it from you maliciously.’

‘She would rather watch a man die? Or a crippled child wither?’ Paxon shook his head as he stared into his cup, as if the concept seemed unbelievable. ‘In Liiria the legend of this place grows. When the men came back from the war they told us of the miraculous things that went on here, and now I have seen these things for myself. The one called Ghost who makes himself disappear; he could make a believer out of anyone! So there is magic here. We weren’t wrong. Not everyone believed, but we did. Others laughed at us but we came across the desert anyway.’ Finally, Paxon looked up from his drink. ‘Do you see why I’m so angry, Baron Glass?’

Thorin nodded with sympathy. ‘To have come so far. . Truly, I am sorry for you, Paxon, and all the others. But you must realise — there is not the room for all of you in Grimhold. The magic you speak of is. . well, it’s hard to understand. I don’t comprehend it myself, but I know you can’t just summon it. It must be given freely to a person. There are spirits in Grimhold, spirits that choose to work with people or heal them. You don’t know that because no one has told you anything. But it’s true.’

‘And is it not within the power of this Minikin to bestow such a spirit on a person? I have spoken to the people here, Baron Glass. They have told me it is the midget woman who grants these spirits and their magic.’

‘Bah, it is all babble you overhear. I tell you it is complicated.’ Thorin toyed with his drink but did not sip. ‘I have been here a year now, and still I do not understand things. I know only that Minikin has a good heart and suffers as you do, because she sees your plight.’ He pushed his drink aside with annoyance. ‘Paxon, I didn’t really come here to speak of Minikin.’

‘No,’ said Paxon, understanding. ‘You want to know about Liiria.’

‘That’s right.’

‘I’ll tell you anything you want to know, Baron Glass. Let’s see, where shall I start? Do you want to know about the warlords that have torn our country apart? Or about the lawlessness? I know of a child trampled by a horse in one of their battles. Should I tell you about him?’

The news made Thorin blanch. ‘As bad as that?’

‘The country has collapsed, Baron. Once we learned that King Akeela had died, it was chaos. He bankrupted us, did you know that?’

‘I had heard,’ said Thorin. ‘Go on.’

‘Well, there was no money for anything, and the army was broken, too. I don’t know how many men were killed here in the war. You’re more of an expert on that than I am, but those that survived didn’t all return to Liiria. Some did, though, and because General Trager was dead they had no one to follow, so they went to anyone who could pay them. Baron Ravel got most of them, I think. He had enough gold to keep them fed.’

Hearing Ravel’s name made Thorin’s blood curdle. The merchant-baron was a quiet but ambitious man, who had long fancied himself a man of war. Now it seemed he had bought the title others had rightfully earned.

‘I know Ravel,’ said Thorin. ‘To call him a dog would be a kindness. He hasn’t taken Koth, has he?’

‘Not by the time I left, but he has designs on the city, that’s certain. And I’ve been gone many weeks. Koth may be his now.’

The news was too much for Thorin. At once he took back his cup of rahos and drank, gulping the liquid thoughtlessly. It burned all the way down.

‘That is horrible news, Paxon. To imagine Ravel in charge of my beautiful city. . It’s too much to bear.’

‘As I said, I’ve been gone from Koth for some time now, Baron. It may be that Ravel has defeated the library folk, or perhaps not. Perhaps they still hold on.’

‘Library folk? Who are they?’

Paxon looked peculiarly at Thorin. ‘They are the men in the library, the army that fights for Koth. Haven’t you heard of them?’

‘No, Paxon, I told you — I’m deaf and dumb here. Tell me who these men are.’

The Liirian shrugged. ‘I don’t really know them, to be honest. They’re soldiers mostly, men who didn’t side with Ravel or other warlords when they came back from the war. They’re loyal to King Akeela, or at least his memory.’

‘And they live in the library?’

‘It’s their fortress now. It’s on a great hill, overlooking the city. Even Lionkeep isn’t as good a position.’

The news was astonishing to Thorin. Suddenly he was full of questions. ‘They’re soldiers, you say? Royal Chargers, even?’

‘I think so. There aren’t many of them, but they’ve been rallying anyone they can to their banner for the defence of Koth. For the old ways, you might say. The man who leads them is an old-timer, too. A fellow named Breck.’

‘Sweet mother of Fate.’ Thorin leaned back as if struck by a stone. ‘Breck?’

‘That’s his name, I’m sure of it. You know him?’

‘I know him,’ said Thorin, remembering the man as clear as sunshine. It was Breck who had gone to Norvor with Gilwyn to take him away from Jazana Carr. After that he’d gone off with his family, leaving Koth to escape Akeela’s wrath while the rest of them fled across the desert. It boggled Thorin’s mind to think of Breck holed up in the library, defending Koth once again. ‘What a good man,’ he said with a smile. ‘Gods, what a hero.’

‘He may be a hero, but he doesn’t stand much of a chance,’ said Paxon. ‘He’s outmanned by Ravel’s army.’

‘I’ve seen Library Hill, my friend. A skilled group can hold off an army up there. Ravel will be no match for them, not at first. Ravel will have to wear them down, though I have to admit it won’t do Breck much good if no one comes to help him.’ Once again the agitation grew in Thorin. ‘What else do you know, Paxon? What have you heard of Jazana Carr?’

‘Ah, that one!’ Paxon shook his head ruefully. ‘She’s the one Breck should really worry about. Last I heard she had King Lorn on the run. It was just a matter of time before she conquered Norvor. She’s done it by now most likely.’

‘No. .’

‘Oh yes, Baron Glass. Jazana Carr’s a wicked one, and she has the means to do whatever she wants. She has her own designs on Liiria, you know. They say even Ravel fears her, because his army is no match for hers. If she wants Liiria, she’ll take it. And no one’s going to be able to stop her.’

A sickening lurch shook Thorin’s stomach. He looked down at the table, suffocated by a sense of utter helplessness. ‘So it’s too late,’ he muttered. ‘My family. .’

Paxon frowned. ‘You have a family, Baron? You mean still in Liiria?’

‘Still in Koth, for all I know,’ replied Thorin. ‘I haven’t seen them in years. They’re all grown now. Or dead.’

The images of his family — as they had been years ago — flashed through his mind. His wife Romonde, his sons Aric and Nial, both boys when he’d left them. And of course there were his twin girls, perfectly the same like two shining pennies. For a moment he saw them clearly, and the memory was painful. He had been forced to leave them, all of them, sent to the Isle of Woe by Akeela to be eaten by cannibals. But he’d been saved by Lukien and Jazana Carr and he had never looked back. He had never even told his family he was still alive.

‘I don’t know,’ Thorin wondered aloud. ‘I don’t know what they think of me.’

Paxon was still staring at him. The Liirian had lost his sour expression and now looked wholly sympathetic. ‘It is a cruel thing to lose one’s family. I’m sorry for you, Baron Glass. You must miss them.’

Thorin thought about this, but was unsure how to answer. ‘I would miss them, if I knew how. I don’t even know what they look like now. I left them to keep them safe. I could never tell them I was alive because that would have put them in danger from Akeela. Ah, it’s a long story. .’ Thorin found the jug of rahos and poured himself some more. He drank, trying not to be embarrassed by Paxon’s pity. ‘I owe them, that’s all. If Jazana Carr is on the move, then they are in danger.’

‘If they’re still in Liiria,’ said Paxon. ‘You say you don’t know where they are?’

‘Or even if they’re still alive.’ Thorin snickered blackly. ‘What a father and husband I am, eh? Bloody one-armed coward. Bloody useless.’

He finished his cup of rahos in one big gulp, then licked his lips.

‘Not much good I can do anybody here, though. And how can I get across the desert to help them, or help Breck? That cursed Aztar has us all sealed in here like insects in a jar.’

‘There’s nothing for you in Liiria anyway, Baron Glass,’ Paxon cautioned him. ‘There’s nothing left there for any of us.’

Thorin looked at him and grimaced. ‘No. No, you’re probably right.’

‘Our lives are here now. The others that came with me, they need a life, too.’ Paxon took hold of Thorin’s hand. ‘You must make Minikin understand that. If there’s any way for us to enter Mount Believer. .’

‘I told you, there is no way.’

‘But if there is a way, any way, you must convince her. Will you do that for us, Baron Glass? Will you speak to the woman Minikin for us?’ Paxon sighed as if he knew the answer. ‘Or will you simply forget us?’

About to reach for his cup, Thorin stilled his hand. Suddenly he wanted no more of the liquor. ‘I will not forget you, Paxon. Or Liiria.’ He shoved aside his cup. ‘Thank you for the drink, and for the company,’ he said. Then he rose from the table and left the shrana house.

Outside, he felt his anger crest. Over the white wall he could see the palace of Jador and knew that Minikin was in there somewhere. He looked around and saw what was still a vibrant town, alive despite the hardships of isolation. But it was a Ganjeese town, a place for desert dwellers. It was not a world for Liirians. Liirians belonged up north, Baron Glass decided.

Liirians belonged in Liiria.