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?’