‘I think I can,’ said the boy. ‘You’re in my head.’ This time his hands went for Leshe’s nose, brushing it and feeling the wetness of her tears.
‘This won’t last,’ Minikin warned. ‘It’s just a test.’
But it was a happy test, and Minikin was satisfied. She let the family have its moment, content to know there would be many more in the future. It would take a lot of hard work, but it was work Minikin had dedicated her whole life toward. She knew Carlan would make a fine Inhuman.
‘He has the heart for it,’ she said softly. ‘Yes. He’ll be one of us.’
Slowly she lowered the amulet, replacing it beneath her garments. The return of its warmth against her skin comforted her.
‘You’re gone!’ said Carlan to his parents. He turned his blank eyes to Minikin. ‘Bring them back!’
‘I will, in time,’ said the little woman. Her expression grew grave. ‘Carlan, if you want to see them again — if you want to see anything — it’s going to take a lot of effort. There are things I need to teach you. Do you understand?’
‘Yes,’ said the boy. ‘I know.’ He pointed toward his mother and father. ‘They told me.’
‘And I’ll have to take you away. You’ll have to come with me to Grimhold, the place you call Mount Believer. Your mother and father will not be with you. Do you understand?’
It was the part that all children hated. But Varagin and his wife had prepared their boy, and Carlan took the news with equanimity.
‘I know,’ he said. ‘But I will see them when we are done. I can come back. Right?’
‘When you’ve learned, yes.’ Minikin looked at the boy’s parents. ‘He is very bright. He will learn well, but not quickly. I want you to be prepared for his absence. Where I am taking him, you may not follow.’
‘As long as he’s not hurt,’ said Leshe. ‘And we know he won’t be.’ She smiled gratefully at the little woman. ‘Before you take him, please tell us — what will you do with him? Will you teach him your magic?’
None of the Seekers knew the nature of Grimhold; Minikin had never been willing to explain all her secrets to them, because she wanted to protect her Inhumans and because the Akari were private beings, fierce about their sanctity. Before the world had learned of Grimhold’s existence, keeping the secret had been easy. Now, it challenged Minikin.
‘I cannot tell you all you wish to know,’ she said. She kept her voice low, suspicious of ears at the door. ‘You wonder why you cannot come with your son, or why I do not take more like him to Grimhold, I know.’
‘Because there are not enough teachers for so many,’ supposed Varagin. ‘That’s right, isn’t it?’
‘Something like that.’ Minikin remained on her knees before the boy, admiring his rapt attention to her words. ‘But the teachers — the Akari — are not like you and I. They are not flesh and bone. And each Inhuman must have his own teacher. When Carlan is taken to Grimhold, an Akari teacher will be given to him.’
Leshe and her husband looked confused. ‘Not flesh and bone?’ said Leshe. ‘They are spirits, then? Like the Great Fate?’
‘They are the dead of a once great race. Because of them, the people of Grimhold are healed.’ Minikin rose but was still not face to face with the adults. ‘You came here because you believe there is magic in Grimhold, and indeed there is magic of a kind. I tell you this because I know it will not shock you.’
Varagin took a breath. ‘No,’ he agreed. ‘Not shocked. Surprised.’
‘And worried,’ added his wife. She looked down at her son, and for the first time doubt flashed through her eyes.
‘You have my promise that no harm will come to Carlan. The Akari that has been chosen for him is kind, and eager to help him to see. But you must be sure.’ Minikin looked at them hard. ‘If you do not wish the boy to go with him, say so now. I will not bring him back or answer any pleas to see him, not until he is ready.’
‘How long will that be?’ asked Leshe.
‘As long as it takes,’ said Minikin. She would give no firmer answer. For a long moment Varagin and Leshe stared at their son, contemplating their heavy decision. There really was no turning back. Going home to Marn was impossible; they’d be killed crossing the desert. And even if they reached Marn, there was nothing there for a blind boy except to grow up to be a blind man. Minikin didn’t have to read their minds to know the images blowing through them, pictures of Carlan grown, bumbling through dirty streets begging for coins.
‘I want him to go,’ said Leshe. ‘I want him to be able to see and to grow up normal. Then, when we’re gone he’ll be able to live on his own.’
‘He will be one of my Inhumans,’ said Minikin. ‘He will not be normal.’
‘But he will be safe and he will be well.’ Leshe lifted her head and straightened her back. ‘That is what we wish.’
‘And you, Varagin?’ asked Minikin.
The boy’s father couldn’t speak. Rather, he nodded. Minikin reached down toward Carlan, who had absorbed every word.
‘Take my hand, child.’
Without hesitation Carlan did so, rising to his feet. With blind eyes he looked at his new benefactor. ‘We go now?’
‘Yes,’ said Minikin. ‘To a better place.’
Gilwyn Toms was grateful to see Jador again. After a day in the desert, the place that had become his home welcomed him with its shining white beauty. His palsied hand and leg ached with cramps and his backside burned from riding his kreel too long, and despite the gaka he wore the sun had burned its brand on his cheeks and forehead. It had taken them longer to reach the city than anyone expected. The Seekers had slowed them considerably. And when at last they had reached the outskirts of Jador, the Seekers were disappointed to learn they could not enter the city gates. The sight of the refugee city shocked them. It was that way for all the Seekers who managed to reach Jador. Somehow, they thought they were the only ones. Paxon, the leader of the group, seemed the most surprised. It did not take long for Lukien to exact a small revenge on the man.
‘You see?’ said the Bronze Knight, sweeping a gesture across the plethora of hastily erected homes. ‘This is why you were a fool to come here, Paxon.’
Paxon and his Seekers looked around hopelessly. His eyes danced from house to house, counting up the hundreds — thousands — of people like himself who had come across the desert. When his gaze fixed on the city beyond the white wall, he looked at Gilwyn.
‘No — that’s where we want to go,’ he insisted. ‘We didn’t come across the desert to be left out here.’
‘This is Jador,’ said Gilwyn. Exhausted, he did his best to keep civil. ‘It’s as crowded inside the wall as outside.’
‘But we want to see Mount Believer,’ Paxon argued. He looked around in confusion. ‘Where is it? We were told the city would lead us there.’
The other Seekers nodded, looking at Gilwyn for answers. Calith, still holding the lame Melini, gave Gilwyn a twisted smile. Of all the burdens he carried now as regent, this was the worst of them. Telling Seekers they had travelled so far for nothing had never gotten easier.
‘Give us some time,’ said Gilwyn. ‘We’ll find a place for you to stay, but for now you have to be patient. It might take a day or so to find homes for you all.’
‘What?’ Paxon erupted. ‘Out here? You don’t understand — we’re not like these other people. We’re not refugees! We’re-’
‘You are refugees,’ snapped Lukien. He whirled his horse around to face them all. ‘You’re guests of the Jadori people, uninvited and a burden. Nobody asked you to come here. So you’ll wait. You’ll do what you’re told like the rest of these people did. And if you don’t like it, there’s your way home.’ A stretched index finger pointed across the desert. ‘You’re not prisoners. You’re welcome to leave.’
Gilwyn and Ghost looked shocked by his outburst. So did the Seekers. Paxon stared at Lukien.
‘Sir Lukien, we have nowhere else to go. We came here to-’
‘I know why you came here,’ said Lukien. ‘To be healed. Gods, how many times have I heard that? The world is full of misery, Paxon. Just look around. You’re no different from anyone else.’