‘Yes,’ she half-sighed. ‘It’s good to know he’s well.’ Her tone was pensive as she gazed out over the rocky terrain, toward the desert where Jador waited.
She’ll never leave here, thought the baron. Minikin will never let her.
And how could he blame Minikin for that? Meriel wasn’t a prisoner; none of the Inhumans were forced to stay in Grimhold. But none of them were strong enough to leave, either, not without Minikin’s blessing, and the little mistress had never blessed Meriel’s longing for freedom. It was a longing to be normal, really, and Baron Glass understood that well. Such was the invisible glue that held their friendship together.
‘You are one of Minikin’s favourites,’ he said. The words slipped out before he could stop them. Meriel turned and looked up at him, perplexed.
‘What?’
‘It is true.’ Glass donned a fatherly expression. ‘That is why she keeps you here. To protect you.’
‘I know,’ said Meriel. ‘But I am a woman grown now, Thorin. I have a life of my own to live, and there is so much out there I wish to see. If only I could see it as a normal person, and not as a monster.’ She leaned back on her hands and gave a mirthless chuckle. ‘Isn’t it odd? So many people want to come here, Minikin has to fight them off. Yet you and I would give almost anything to leave.’
‘Yes,’ said Thorin. ‘But we cannot. There are things we must do first, you and I. We cannot leave these lives behind, not yet.’
‘You lie to yourself, dear Thorin. You are not so shackled to this place as I. You can go back to Liiria any time you wish.’
‘Nonsense. The boy needs me. Jador needs protection.’
‘Jador has Lukien and all the Inhumans to protect it. You’re a good man, I grant you, but not even you are quite so valuable.’
Baron Glass’ expression grew stormy. ‘You are cross today. Why do you taunt me?’
‘Because I am tired of us both being here!’ said Meriel. At last she got to her feet. She walked to the very edge of the cliff, her body stiffening. ‘Thorin, if I had the courage I would leave Grimhold, but I can’t. I am too afraid to go back into the world with this ugly face. But you. .’ She turned to face him. Behind her many scars, Thorin saw her beauty. ‘You do not belong here, Thorin. You belong in Liiria.’
‘There is war in Liiria, my dear,’ Glass reminded her.
‘Yes, and you belong in war as well! You think you are half a man because you have one arm. But I see the fire in you, and I know what good you can do for Liiria.’ Meriel thrust out her burned hand. ‘I torture myself, ’tis true. But what about you? Every day you twist your mind into knots over your family, worrying about them, worrying about Jazana Carr. And I know you covet the armour, Thorin. You may have secrets from the others, but I know you too well. You can’t hide your lusts from me.’
Embarrassed, Glass had to turn away. ‘Lusts? Do you see me so clearly, lady? To know my heart’s troubles so exactly?’
Meriel did not back down. She stood, watching him, and for a moment Thorin wanted to confess his love for her, but could not. He longed for her to say it for him.
‘Whatever else is in your heart, you may keep it to yourself,’ said Meriel. ‘Whatever else you lust for. .’ She smiled sweetly. ‘But I know this, Thorin — you crave the armour.’
‘No,’ said Thorin quickly, ‘I don’t. .’
‘You do. Each time we speak of Liiria your mind turns on it.’
Baron Glass could not contain his discomfort. He looked around, suspicious of other ears. ‘All right,’ he hissed. ‘I do think of it.’
The armour was the Devil’s Armour, and it had enchanted Thorin Glass from the first time he’d set eyes on it. Locked away in its dungeon under Grimhold, it had managed to sing to him. It held the promise of making Baron Glass whole again, of making him invincible, or so the legend said.
‘How can I not think of it?’ he whispered. He was used to sharing secrets with Meriel, and it all came tumbling out of him. ‘I swear, sometimes I think it’s calling to me. That devil inside it — Kahldris — I think I hear his voice sometimes.’ The baron looked grave. ‘Could that be true, Meriel? Could he be tempting me?’
Meriel gave a knowing nod. ‘Kahldris is very powerful. That’s what Minikin says, at least. You need to beware him, Thorin. If you do steal the armour-’
‘I am not a thief,’ snapped Thorin.
‘If you do, you must be careful.’ Meriel’s gaze seized him. ‘Don’t you think I see the truth? It is a constant battle in you. Minikin tells you the armour is forbidden, and what are you to believe? You’re an outsider. The ways of the Akari are unknown to you.’
‘So she lies?’ Baron Glass laughed. ‘You do your mistress dishonour, lady. I believe Minikin has warned me off the armour for my own good.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Meriel. ‘Or perhaps you are strong enough to control Kahldris. Perhaps you are the one to tame the Devil’s Armour.’
It was dangerous, tempting talk, and it made Thorin’s pulse race. From the dawn of Grimhold the Devil’s Armour had been locked away, saved only because Minikin had never found a way to destroy it. It was said that the armour could not in fact be destroyed, and that the Akari who possessed it was sinister beyond words. To Thorin it sounded like a fairy tale, much like Grimhold itself. It vexed him that such a powerful weapon should go to waste, or that any Akari — a race that had helped the Inhumans so unselfishly — could be so evil. But Minikin had never given Thorin cause to doubt her, and so the one-armed baron had been left to wonder over the armour’s true nature, or if he was powerful enough to control it. Minikin thought not.
‘She doesn’t know me, though,’ whispered Thorin. For a moment the idea transfixed him, and it was not until Meriel touched his hand that reality refocused.
‘Forgive me, Thorin,’ she said. ‘I should not entice you with such talk. I am an Inhuman; we are not to speak of the Devil’s Armour.’
Thorin took her hand in his own. He could feel its scars, but didn’t care. ‘The armour is not the only thing that entices me,’ he said. ‘I do not stay close to Grimhold for the sake of the armour alone.’
Meriel’s face, which was often red, deepened in colour. It was not pride that made her flush, though, but embarrassment. She retracted her hand, ignoring Thorin’s hint at love, saying, ‘Mind my words. If you have designs on the Devil’s Armour, be sure about yourself. Be sure you can handle Kahldris.’
Thorin smiled weakly. ‘I will, lady, do not fear.’
Then, leaving Meriel to her own dark company, he left the ledge and headed back toward Grimhold.
Baron Glass returned to the keep in a foul mood, angered by his conversation with Meriel and the stupid way he had pursued her. In Jador, Gilwyn had his hands full with the Seekers and Prince Aztar’s raiders and the myriad problems of rebuilding a devastated city, and Thorin knew his place was with the boy. He had struck up a fine relationship with Gilwyn in the past year, becoming like a surrogate father. Yet his attraction to Meriel had kept him away from Jador far too much lately. Meriel’s heart belonged to Lukien — a stupid thing considering Lukien’s own heart belonged to a dead woman — and the baron knew he would never win the woman’s affections.
Why then did he try?
Because I am a silly old fool, he told himself.
The baron had his own room in the keep, shunning the teeming village that was part of Grimhold, so he could be close to the Devil’s Armour. He made his way through the halls of the keep to his humble chamber where he kept to himself, brooding, taking a lonely meal by the light of a few candles. As he ate, he thought of all the women he had known.
Jazana Carr was never far from his mind. Nor was his wife, wherever she might be. The two were inexorably linked now. Before he had left Jazana in Norvor, the Diamond Queen had vowed vengeance on his family, a family he hadn’t seen in years. Thorin had children, too, grown now, who had no doubt forgotten about their infamous father. The thought of his family dangling on Norvan pikes ruined Thorin’s appetite. Nor did he have any desire to see Lukien or Minikin now, either.