Minikin’s long face told Gilwyn the worst. The message she had hurried to Jador had asked him to come at once, for White-Eye was in trouble. It had said no more than that, and begging his Akari Ruana for more news had yielded Gilwyn nothing. Now, exhausted and terrified, he drew Emerald to a stop at the threshold of Grimhold and slid down off her back. Sensing his worry, the kreel followed him to the gate. Minikin stepped out to greet them. Behind her, hidden in the blackness of the keep, other Inhumans kept a cautious vigil. They peered out to see him, their faces deep with trouble.
‘Tell me,’ said Gilwyn. They were the only words he could make with his gravelly throat.
Minikin reached for his hand. He had never seen her so grey, not even after the recent battle. ‘It’s good that you’ve come,’ she said. ‘We have waited.’
‘I came as quickly as I could,’ said Gilwyn, and it was true — no sooner had he read her message than he was on Emerald’s back. ‘Minikin, tell me what’s happened. What’s wrong with White-Eye?’
‘She is all right now, Gilwyn. She’s resting.’ Minikin struggled with the words. ‘Gilwyn, she was. . outside.’
‘Outside?’ Gilwyn’s eyes widened. ‘In the sun?’
Minikin nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘How did that happen? She’s not supposed to go out of doors!’
‘I know that,’ said Minikin evenly. ‘Gilwyn, listen to me. White-Eye is going to be fine, but something happened to her, something I can’t explain yet. I want you to be calm. Will you do that for me?’
‘I. . Minikin, I can’t be calm! Where is she? I want to see her.’
‘She’s resting, Gilwyn. She’s had a terrible ordeal.’
It was all too much for Gilwyn, who threw up his hands. ‘Make sense, please! What happened? Why was she outside?’
‘We were in the village together,’ said Minikin, carefully blocking his way. ‘She wandered off into the night. Something led her out of the house, Gilwyn. Something called to her. I didn’t know that she was gone until. .’
Gilwyn waited for her to finish. ‘Until what?’
Minikin grew ashen. ‘I heard her cry in my mind. But it wasn’t until morning, Gilwyn. It wasn’t until the sun came up.’
The confession shattered her little face. Gilwyn knew he’d yet to hear the worst of it. He braced himself.
‘Minikin, what happened to her?’ His voice began to crack. ‘I don’t understand. .’
The torchlight made them both glow orange. Darkness shadowed Minikin, obscuring her haunted eyes. She could barely bring herself to speak, and clutched Gilwyn’s hand tightly.
‘She’s blind,’ said Minikin softly.
The statement seemed blank.
‘Blind? I know she’s-’
‘Faralok is gone, Gilwyn. White-Eye has no Akari now, and no sight.’
Gilwyn swallowed hard. Astonished, he stared at Minikin. ‘How?’
‘The sunlight. The pain of it broke the bond between them, drove Faralok away. That is how it is sometimes with the Akari. She was crazed with fear. And the sunlight — it was too much for her. When I found her she was miles away, unconscious in the sand.’
‘Fate, no,’ gasped Gilwyn. At last the weight of the news fell on him. ‘She was out in the desert alone?’
‘Much of the night, yes,’ said Minikin. ‘She was in a trance, a daze. This thing that came over her. .’ Her eyes sparked with anger. ‘She was driven to this, Gilwyn.’
‘I want to see her,’ Gilwyn demanded. ‘Take me to her.’
‘First hear me — White-Eye does not yet know what happened to her. She knows she is blind, but the fugue that took her still confuses her, and I am only now piecing it together.’
Gilwyn didn’t have to piece it together. Somehow, he already knew what dark force was at play. ‘It’s Kahldris,’ he said. ‘I asked Ruana what had happened but she wouldn’t tell me. But I sensed it in her, Minikin. The Akari know it’s Kahldris, don’t they?’
‘Yes,’ Minikin admitted. ‘They do.’
‘Then why?’ Gilwyn cried, maddened by the answer. ‘Why would he hurt White-Eye?’
‘Because you love her,’ said Minikin. ‘Because he wants to hurt you. That is the only thing that makes sense. Perhaps you are a threat to his control over Thorin. I do not know for certain why, but he has struck at White-Eye to strike at you.’
Gilwyn drew back. ‘No. .’
‘It is Kahldris, Gilwyn.’ Minikin’s tone was insistent. ‘The Akari have told me they have sensed his presence. He was here when White-Eye had her fugue. It was he that led her out of safety, I am sure of it.’
‘Please, don’t say this to me,’ moaned Gilwyn. The thought was unbearable.
‘There is more. Kahldris led White-Eye out by tricking her. In her head she heard you screaming. She thought you were in trouble. She went to save you, Gilwyn.’
Unable to stand it, Gilwyn finally collapsed under the terrible news. He fell backward onto Emerald, leaning on the kreel for support. Was he to blame for White-Eye’s terror?
‘If I had been here,’ he muttered. ‘She was always asking me to come to Grimhold. If I had listened. .’
‘Stop,’ ordered Minikin. ‘This was Kahldris’ doing, Gilwyn, not yours. The demon used you, and your love for White-Eye. Do you see the danger? Do you see what Baron Glass is up against?’
Grief-stricken, Gilwyn slowly nodded. He had always known the trouble Thorin was in, but had tried hard to put it out of his mind, hoping vaguely that Lukien would help him. Now it was obvious that Lukien had failed.
‘Can I see her?’ he asked weakly.
An empty hallway greeted Gilwyn as he and Minikin made their way to White-Eye’s chamber. Usually, this area of Grimhold bustled with traffic, but tonight the Inhumans tiptoed past the young kahana’s door. Gilwyn paused outside White-Eye’s chamber, afraid of what he might find inside. According to Minikin, she was barely responsive, still shocked by what had happened to her. She had been through enormous pain, the mistress reminded him — it would take time for her to recover. Gilwyn steadied himself as Minikin reached for the door. When it opened, he was surprised to see how dark it was.
The little, windowless chamber flickered in the light of a single taper. Shadows climbed the walls. A woman sat beside the narrow bed, nodding off to sleep leaning against a chest used for furniture. She turned when she noticed the door opening, her eyes brightening when she recognised Gilwyn. Her name was Alena, and she was not an Inhuman in the fullest sense. She was the mother of Insight, a child who could neither speak nor move without the help of her Akari. Minikin had already told Gilwyn that Alena was with White-Eye, and Gilwyn was grateful for it. Her own daughter being such a challenge, Alena knew well how to nurse the needy.
Gilwyn nodded to Alena then looked past her to the bed. There lay White-Eye, eyes closed, expression blank. Her hair fell limply across her dark face. Propped up on pillows, she was either asleep or merely quiet; Gilwyn could not tell which. Alena rose and went silently to the door.
‘She is resting easy,’ whispered the woman. ‘I’ll leave you to her.’ She smiled gently at Gilwyn and touched his shoulder. ‘You sit with her now. She asks for you.’ To Minikin she said, ‘I’ll be with my daughter. I can sit with her again later, if you wish.’
‘No,’ said Gilwyn. ‘I’ll sit with her.’ He kept his voice low so that White-Eye could not hear. He wanted to ask why the room was so dark, but it didn’t really matter — everything was dark to White-Eye now.
When Alena left the room, Minikin padded over to the bedside. She inspected White-Eye’s face a moment, then gently took her hand.
‘White-Eye, it’s me,’ she said. ‘Are you awake?’
White-Eye’s eyes fluttered open. She licked her lips and nodded. ‘Minikin. . yes, I was not sleeping.’