‘That’s it, then?’ Lorn looked between the mistress and Gilwyn. ‘Nothing else to say? You’ll just let my child go on the way she is?’
‘Here in Jador she will not be judged by her inability to hear or see,’ said Minikin. ‘She will be welcome here and have the same value as any other.’
‘But she will be deaf and blind,’ argued Lorn. ‘What kind of life is that for her? For anyone? Lady, I saw what you did with that fire. You are powerful! You must have the means to help Poppy.’
The reference to the fire made Minikin wince. ‘I have not the power to create more Akari, my lord. Nor is it my place to put you ahead of all others. I have offered you a safe life in Jador. All of you may benefit from that. It is up to you to decide.’
There was silence for a moment as Lorn considered the harsh terms. From the time he’d met with Salina he had known his chances were slim, but he had hoped his station as a former king would sway the tiny woman in his favour.
‘My lady,’ he said, ‘I am not ungrateful to you. You have offered us a place to call home, and for us that is no small thing. But I must ask you to think on my daughter. Do not put her completely out of your mind. While we are here, will you at least consider taking her to Grimhold?’
Minikin quietly thought for a moment, then said, ‘If you are in the palace, then you will be a constant reminder to me, King Lorn. I am not a monster. How can I help but think of your daughter?’
Lorn smiled. ‘Then we will be the best guests you have ever had, my lady. And should the means come for you to help Poppy. .?’
‘I will consider her.’ Minikin glanced at Gilwyn. ‘You will see to all their needs, then?’
‘Yes,’ said Gilwyn quickly. ‘I’ll help them settle in.’
And that was it. Lorn recognised dismissal. His audience with the mistress was ended.
‘Thank you, lady,’ he said, then bowed again. ‘You are generous, and we are grateful.’
‘King Lorn,’ said Minikin, ‘Mount Believer may not exist in the way you had hoped, but Grimhold is a place where we all escape our past. Jador can be such a place, too, if you will let it be so.’
The strange words made Lorn pause. ‘My lady, I have run from my past so long my legs can take me no further. If this city is to be my home, than I will do my best to make it a worthy one.’
His answer seemed to satisfy Minikin, who smiled as she bid farewell before turning her attention back toward the desert.
33
Nights up north were different from those in the desert. Lukien had forgotten how much he missed them.
The winter that had left the desert untouched had begun its slow retreat. And the night sky, filled with clouds and mists, still made the breath freeze as it left Lukien’s mouth. It had been a cold few days, with the kind of killing frost that made the first spring flowers die, but he and Mirage had relished the weather. For Mirage, who had not been away from Grimhold in years, the taste of winter brought back a flood of happy memories. So too it was for Lukien, who had never quite adjusted to the heat of Jador, not in the whole time he had lived there. Together they rode north, remembering things the way they had been, and at the end of the day they would talk as they ate around the fire, telling stories of Liiria in the days before it was a battlefield.
As so often happened, Lukien and Mirage were between towns this night. They were deep within the state of Marn now, but the city itself was still days away and the trail they had taken had been sparse with farmland and forest. Because night fell quickly this far north, they had bedded early on the side of the road, making a fire for themselves and cooking the provisions they had purchased in the last town they had encountered, a sleepy place called Moorstok. Mirage tended their donkey and horses while Lukien cleared the area and made the fire. They had practised this many times now and knew their roles perfectly. Within an hour, they were warm and comfortable.
For Lukien, the end of the day meant time to think, a quiet time when he no longer fretted over direction or encountering some challenger on the road. When the sun went down and the campfire leaped, he could relax and ponder all that had happened during the day, and all that yet lay ahead. It had been weeks since they had left Jador. They had travelled more north than necessary to avoid Ganjor and Prince Aztar, and the detour had cost them many days. Thorin was well ahead of them, they knew, but there was nothing to be done for it. The way they had come had been the safest for them — if not the quickest — and Lukien was confident they would reach the Liirian border soon enough. Would they find Thorin there? They both supposed so, but they did not talk of it often. Instead, Mirage had made a fine travelling companion for Lukien, always keeping up and never complaining about the weather or the food or the tedious nights they spent beneath the sky.
Lukien had not expected to fall in love with Mirage, and in fact he had not. Though she was very beautiful now, the way she had been before her maiming, her constant attention had not swayed him. He knew it bothered Mirage that he did not love her, and that her time to lure him was running out. Once they reached Liiria and he found Baron Glass, she would be on her own. That was their promise to each other, and he had not stopped reminding her of it. For all her beauty, for all the true love she felt for him, Mirage was wilful. And though he enjoyed her company, he resented the way she had used him and Minikin. If not for his guardianship she would be dead by now, he was sure.
Still, his distant manner did not stop the girl from trying — or from being tempting.
The music of crickets was thick in the air when Mirage returned from tending the animals. She wore a long coat to stave off the cool air and a pair of riding breeches that showed off her shapely frame. Lukien, hunched over a pot by the fire, had laid out metal plates for both of them, along with some cheese and hard biscuits. The donkey they had brought carried most of their supplies, including a chest with Lukien’s bronze armour. He knew it was an affectation, but he was determined to return to Liiria the way he had left it — as the Bronze Knight. He stole a glance at Mirage as she knelt down beside him. Her pretty nose sniffed at the steaming stuff in the pot, a stew he had made of meat and turnips and wild onions they had found on the side of the road. The smell of the stew brought a smile to Mirage’s face.
‘Ooh, I’m hungry. You’re a good cook, Lukien. I look forward to this part of the day.’
The compliment made Lukien grin. As a child of the streets, cooking for himself had been a necessity. Then later as a soldier he had continued the practice, feeding himself and his men whenever anything edible crawled past them on the battlefield. Things were better now, but Lukien still enjoyed mixing up a meal from time to time, if only to remind himself of younger days.
‘I used to be better,’ he told Mirage, taking her plate and spooning her some of the food. ‘There wasn’t much reason for me to cook in Jador. The palace folk took care of that.’
He handed the plate to the girl, who held it under her face a moment to feel the steam. With her eyes closed he had time to look at her. No matter how hard he tried, he could not see the scars beneath the Akari illusion. Nor had he really gotten used to calling her Mirage, but that was her name now and she insisted on it. Mirage opened her eyes, picked up her fork, and sampled the stew.
‘Hot!’ she said, pursing her lips. ‘But good.’
Lukien served himself some food and, after tasting it, agreed with her. Crossing his legs beneath him, he settled back and began to eat. The moon disappeared behind a cloud, and while they slaked the worst of their hunger they were quiet, eating and drinking from their waterskins while the horses and donkey rested safely away from the fire. Mirage had already laid out their bedding for the night, near enough to the flames to keep them warm. The two blanket rolls were near each other, too, though Lukien pretended not to notice.