‘He’s there?’ she asked hopefully. ‘But I don’t see anything.’
‘She is there. Her name is Kirsil. Go to her, Meriel. She’s waiting for you.’
The pool remained perfectly calm as Meriel inched uncertainly toward it. Across the other side she still could see nothing, but she trusted Minikin and so continued on, stepping into the strange water. Quickly, she was up to her knees, but the water around her barely stirred. The cool sensation made her giddy. She turned her head to see Minikin urging her on.
‘Go on,’ said Minikin. ‘You’re all right.’
Not knowing if the water was deep or dangerous, Meriel moved slowly but confidently through the pool. By the time she was halfway across she was up to her stomach. Amazingly, she left no ripples in her wake. She could still glance down and see her reflection, unwavering. Whether it was the cold of the water or some unknown magic of the cave, she felt light-headed again, just as she had when Sarlvarian had fled. This time though there was a completeness to the feeling, as if she were no longer alone in her own skull.
‘Kirsil?’ she called. Carefully she continued forward. ‘Are you there?’
By the time she had reached the other end of the pool the feeling of completeness was on her fully. As if someone was beside her — inside her, even — she looked around expectantly, yet still saw no one in the pool or on the nearby bank. Confused, she looked across the water to where Minikin was standing.
‘Minikin, I don’t see anyone. Where is she?’
The Mistress of Grimhold stared at her, her mouth open in amazement.
‘Minikin? What’s wrong?’
‘Look down, child,’ said Minikin through a beaming grin. ‘Look into the water.’
Glancing down into the unmoving water, Meriel saw a woman gazing back at her. Golden hair moved in the slight breeze and young, perfect skin shimmered. Meriel wondered if it was the Akari she saw. .
But then remembered the way she looked once before.
‘Oh, gods and angels,’ she gasped. The mouth of the reflection moved to her own words. ‘That’s me!’
She stared at the reflection, astonished by her transformation. When she reached down to touch it, the reflection reached up magically to greet her. Their hands met. Meriel began to weep.
‘Minikin, look at me!’ she cried. ‘I’m beautiful!’
Across the pond, Minikin nodded in approval of her handiwork. ‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘Beautiful.’ She stepped a little closer to the water. ‘You have been reborn. Welcome to the world. . Mirage.’
20
Baron Glass had not seen Meriel for many days.
Since returning from Jador, the baron had put himself into a kind of self-exile. He was haunted by the things Paxon had told him, and how the other Liirian Seekers had fled a country in turmoil. Jador itself was under siege from Prince Aztar’s raiders, who continued to trouble Gilwyn and force Lukien into combat. The baron had returned to Grimhold weeks before, believing there was very little he could do to change the lot of his fellow Liirians or aid in the battle against the rogue tribesmen. And because he felt so useless, Thorin made no attempt to speak to Meriel.
As Thorin returned to his chamber late in the day, he discovered a note from Meriel tacked to his door asking him to come and see her that evening, just before the sun went down. Thorin had just returned from performing chores, for all the folk of Grimhold had duties and no amount of noble blood could keep a man from them. It was the baron’s job to aid with the livestock. Each day he performed his chores cheerfully. The simple act of brushing sheep and picking eggs from beneath hens strangely satisfied him, and he liked the way he was left alone to think and ponder his troubles, which had mounted significantly since last he’d been in Jador, when he had argued with Minikin about the fate of the Liirians. Tonight, he knew that Minikin was in Grimhold. She had arrived the night before, but Thorin had avoided her.
His sullenness had driven him to isolation.
Worse, he was hearing Kahldris more often now. The spirit was unmistakable. At first he had tried to ignore it, dismissing the voice as a figment of his overtaxed mind. But in recent weeks the pull of the armour had become increasingly great — Baron Glass pondered it. And as he thought about the armour more and more, the infamous spirit seeped into his brain, awaking him at night with frightening dreams or talking to him at the oddest times, when he washed his face or sat down to eat, or when he thought he was alone only to discover he was never alone, because Kahldris seemed always to be with him.
Thorin Glass was not a man easily frightened. When he had lost his arm in battle he had barely shed a tear. But the Akari had always been a mystery to him and he had always shunned the subject. He knew that the spirits were good and just. It was they who had rescued Lukien from his deathbed. Still, Thorin was always glad the spirits of Grimhold had left him alone.
Until now.
When he discovered Meriel’s note on his door, Thorin was glad for it. He had thought of her often lately, and how he had made a fool of himself confessing his love for her. Seeing her handwriting stirred something inside him, though, and he was eager suddenly to meet her. He wondered if he should tell Meriel about Kahldris, and how the devil of the armour had been tempting him. Perhaps she already knew, and that was why she wished to see him now. She had already warned him about the armour. Baron Glass took the note from the door and crumpled it in his single hand. Soon the sun would be going down.
There was no need for the note to say where to meet her. There was only one place where they met. Thorin didn’t bother changing his clothes or washing. Instead he went directly to their place in the rocks, leaving the keep just as the sun began to dip. It was a difficult climb for Thorin, who had always found balancing troublesome since losing his arm. But when at last he crested the hill and came to the jutting plateau, he saw her silhouetted against the blushing horizon. Her back was turned to him. As usual, she wore the hood of her cloak over her head. The desert sprawled out before her, looking beautiful as the light began to wane. Thorin announced himself by clearing his throat.
‘Thorin,’ she said softly. ‘I missed you.’
Her words heartened him. ‘And I you,’ he confessed. He went a little closer to her. ‘I suppose I should apologise for that.’
‘Thorin, I have something to tell you,’ she said. An edginess crept into her voice. ‘A surprise.’
‘A surprise?’ wondered Thorin aloud, and suddenly he felt the cold presence of Kahldris at his shoulder. He gasped, for the appearance of the creature always shocked him.
Not now, he pleaded silently.
The spirit answered him back in a voice that shook his skull.
Wait, came the thunderous whisper. Wait and see what she has for you.
‘Meriel, turn around,’ Thorin insisted. His heart raced. He wanted to flee.
‘No, don’t call me that,’ said Meriel. She turned quickly around but he could still not see her face.
‘What?’
‘Do not call me Meriel, Thorin. I have a new name.’
Look! declared Kahldris
Silence, monster!
Look, Baron Glass. .
Thorin shook his head to banish the voice. He watched in confusion as Meriel pulled the hood back from her face. Could she sense Kahldris’ presence, he wondered? He was about to speak, but his breath caught.
A woman he did not recognise stood before him. A beautiful woman he had never seen before, young and flawless, smiled weakly where Meriel had stood. For a moment Thorin forgot about Kahldris and his frigid touch. He stood gaping at the woman, dumbstruck.