It no longer mattered to him that Eiriann had grown so attached to Poppy, or that he had shamelessly used her to look after the infant. Guilt was the emotion of weaker men. He would battle it now, he decided, while his determination remained. He left the hallway and exited the library. From the main door of the place he pointed himself to the yards where the women worked, mending and washing clothes. Eiriann always took Poppy with her during chores, constantly protecting her from harm. There were other children under her care, too, but Poppy was special to Eiriann and so got special attention, never wanting for affection or milk. As he’d hoped, Lorn found Eiriann in the south yard with some of the other Believers, two women and a man whose name he didn’t know. The man sat on a stool tanning tack leather. The two women had carried a spindle outside and were convivially spinning thread in the sunlight. Eiriann, however, was not so hard at work. Lorn halted mid-stride.
She was cross-legged on the grass, her face brightly lit by the sun. Around her sat a dozen children of various ages, enraptured. She was singing, and in her lap was Poppy, lying there still, obliviously deaf to the beautiful sounds coming from Eiriann’s mouth. The children smiled and sang along with Eiriann’s pure voice. Lorn listened, heard the lovely music, saw his daughter lying still and dumb in the woman’s lap, and was enraged.
‘Stop!’ he cried. ‘Stop singing!’
He hurried over to the huddle, frightening and scattering the children. Eiriann looked up at him in shock.
‘What?’
‘Stop singing,’ Lorn demanded, hovering over her. The others stared at him in disbelief. He ignored them and pointed down at Poppy. ‘Fate’s sake, girl, what’s wrong with you? She can’t even hear you!’
Eiriann’s face fell. ‘I know that. I-’
‘What’s this?’ said the man on the stool. Angry, he hobbled over to them. ‘Listen here, brute, don’t yell at her.’
‘Stay out of this,’ Lorn snapped. ‘Eiriann, Poppy can’t hear a word you sing. How dare you have those other children around her, laughing at her!’
‘What?’ the girl erupted. ‘You idiot, Poppy likes it!’
‘She can’t even hear it!’
‘She can feel it! Here. .’
Eiriann clutched the baby close to her again, tight against her abdomen, and began to sing.
‘Stop it!’ Lorn ordered.
But Eiriann did not stop. She looked right at Lorn and kept on singing, making that beautiful voice trill from her core, urging Lorn to look down at Poppy. At last he did so and noticed the girl’s remarkable smile. Each breath Eiriann took, every small vibration of her body, curled Poppy’s lips in a contented smile.
Lorn stood, frozen to the ground. He could not bring himself to look at Eiriann or the man who’d sprung to her defence. All he could do was watch his daughter smiling — and hate himself. Eiriann went on singing. Her face was placid again; all her anger had fled. She smiled at Lorn as she sang, but he could not return the gesture. The man backed slowly away, rejoining the others. The children inched a little closer. Ashamed, Lorn clenched his teeth and stared at his daughter.
When Eiriann finished her song, she stood and held Poppy out for him. ‘Don’t be angry,’ she said gently. ‘You see? She likes it.’
Lorn took his daughter and cradled her. He looked into Eiriann’s magnificent eyes and saw undeserved forgiveness there.
‘You were with those men from Andola,’ she said.
Lorn nodded. ‘Yes. It doesn’t matter though.’
‘No?’ asked the girl hopefully.
‘No, and don’t pester me about it, girl. You need me, all of you. There’s no way you’d make it across the desert without me.’
Eiriann’s face lit with joy. ‘You’re right. We do need you.’
‘That’s it, then,’ said Lorn flatly. ‘Two days, right? We’ll be ready.’
‘Two days,’ said Eiriann.
Her smile embarrassed him. Turning away, King Lorn the Wicked walked out of the yard without looking back, still cradling his happy child.
19
Meriel had never gotten used to the desert. In all her time in Grimhold, she had feared it. The desert was a place of endless quiet, where a single thought could echo forever in a person’s mind. For Meriel, there was a thought that rattled endlessly around her brain. She was alone in Grimhold and lonely, and longed to escape the peace of the place, to return into the normal human world where the day-to-day scratch for survival would make her forget her many demons.
Meriel watched the desert from her private place on the outcrop of rock. The sands were always shifting but never seemed to bring change. Alone and covered in the garments that hid her face and hands, Meriel waited patiently. Today was not just a day like any other. Today Minikin would return. The little mistress had been gone from Grimhold for more than a week. It was said among the Inhumans that she had gone to train Gilwyn Toms in the use of his Akari, and there was great excitement among her peers about this, for all of them knew and adored Gilwyn Toms and wanted him to be be truly one of them at last. White-Eye, the kahana, had spoken of little else of late, and though Meriel mostly shunned the kahana she could not help but hear the news. Like herself, White-Eye waited for Minikin to return. Gilwyn Toms had been gone from Grimhold for months now, busy with the work of the city’s reconstruction. Meriel pitied the blind kahana. She knew too well what it meant to love a man and yet have him kept away.
Lukien, too, was gone from Grimhold. Like Minikin, he had gone to Jador. Prince Aztar’s raiders continued to harass the Seekers coming across the desert and Lukien was needed there, certainly more than he was in Grimhold. Meriel missed him. She missed his kindness and the way he insisted she show her face around him, as though her hideous burns meant nothing. Not even Baron Glass was so kind to her, though he was a trusted friend and had confessed his own love for her. Lately Thorin had little time for her, and Meriel was grateful for that. She had not wanted to hurt Thorin or rebuke his love. But he was quiet now and had not come to her in many days, not since returning himself from Jador. Meriel wondered what bad news had befallen the baron. In Jador he had met with the Liirian Seekers and had been surly ever since.
He broods, thought Meriel. He wants to return to the world.
They had that much in common, at least. But Thorin was old. A good man, certainly, but he could have been a grandfather.
Meriel cleared her mind with a deep breath. It made no sense to worry about Thorin now. She had made a decision, and if Minikin granted her request she would not need Thorin.
Out on the rock the heat of the sun roasted her. She called on Sarlvarian to ease the pain, but the Akari ignored her. He was there, inside her, like a tremor beneath her consciousness, but he no longer rose to speak or comfort her. She had hurt him. She had not been able to keep her plans from him, for they were one in the way that Inhumans and Akari always become one. She had no secrets from Sarlvarian.
She would miss him.
She waited. Ignoring the heat of the day, she continued her vigil on the rock, waiting for the first evidence of Minikin’s arrival. Hunger began to tug at her but she ignored it. Afternoon slipped nearly into evening, and she began to give up hope. She rose and stretched, disappointed, at last preparing to leave when finally she saw the figures on the horizon. A small group of kreel made their way through the canyon, following the secret way toward Grimhold. Meriel’s heart leapt, for she knew that Minikin had returned. Excited, she turned to hurry away from the rock, but the magnitude of her request made her pause. She turned and looked back out over the desert. Past the crags she saw the speck that was Minikin and wondered what the Mistress of Grimhold would say to her request.
‘I will beg if I must,’ Meriel resolved. ‘But I will not let her refuse me.’