by John Marco
“Baron Glass says otherwise,” said Breck. “He says that Carr is close to defeating King Lorn, and that when she does she’ll turn her appetites toward Liiria.” He was ruthless in his accusations, barely giving Lukien room to escape. “I’d rather you didn’t deny it, Lukien. I’d rather you just admit your treachery.”
“Treachery?” Lukien laughed. “You can call it that if you like, old friend, but you weren’t the one sent away from his homeland. Akeela let you retire, remember? He gave you a farm and promised to forget your association with me. He let you live.” With a grunt of disdain he rose and went to one of the many windows. “Was I granted any of his famous mercy? No. Instead he banished me, practically a death sentence. If it wasn’t for Jazana Carr, he’d have gotten his wish.”
“You betrayed him, Lukien,” Breck reminded. “You said so yourself.”
“Both of you, stop, please,” said Gilwyn. He lifted himself awkwardly from his chair and stood between them like an official at a tourney. “You can argue all day, but none of this matters anymore. Forget the past. We have to figure out what we’re going to do.”
“You still haven’t told me what Cassandra wants from me, boy,” said Lukien. Then he added sourly, “Though I suppose I can guess.”
“Cassandra wants you to come back for her,” said Gilwyn. “She wants you to take her away from Lionkeep and keep her safe from King Akeela. Then you can ride to Jador and warn them about the invasion.” Gilwyn grinned. “Simple.”
“Oh, yes,” said Lukien bitterly. “All in a day’s work for the great Bronze Knight.”
Breck got out of his chair. “Lukien, we need you. Cassandra needs you. Great Fate, you said you love her! Won’t you help us?”
Outside, the sun was hot on the rocks of Norvor. It dappled the rugged landscape, holding Lukien’s attention. When at last he answered, his voice was soft.
“This is the only home I’ve known for sixteen years now. Jazana Carr may not be perfect, but she always accepted me. Now you’re asking me to betray her. Believe it or not, it’s not that easy.”
Gilwyn stepped closer. “If you don’t help us, Cassandra may die. I can’t take her out of Lionkeep by myself, and neither can Breck. She needs you to protect her, Sir Lukien. And the Jadori need you, too.”
“The Jadori! Now there’s a people I’d like to forget.”
“I know what happened with them,” said Gilwyn. “I know how you killed their queen to get the amulet.”
Lukien seemed shocked by this. “Figgis told you about that, too?”
“Yes,” said Gilwyn. “To be honest, he wanted me to remind you about it. He hoped it might convince you to help them. Something about owing them a debt.”
“That old man is a devious bastard,” said Lukien with a grin. “But he’s right. I do owe the Jadori a debt. And it’s plagued me for years.”
“Well, then maybe you’ll help us,” said Gilwyn. “Or maybe the letter will convince you.”
“Yes, Lukien, read the blasted letter,” said Breck. “Stop dallying over it, for Fate’s sake. We haven’t the time for—”
“No,” said Gilwyn, gently interrupting. “Please, Breck. I think we’ve given Lukien enough to think about. Sir Lukien, Cassandra told me that you’re a man of principles. And me—I’m just a kid. I can’t force you to help us. I’ve delivered my message. I’ve done my part. The rest is up to you.”
Satisfied, Gilwyn turned and limped from the room. He did not look back, not even to see Breck’s stunned expression. As he left, a little smile crept over his face. He was proud of the way he’d handled Lukien, sure he’d laid on the guilt in just the right amount.
Working with Figgis had taught him a lot.
Lukien remained in the council chamber for another hour. Breck had not stayed with him; the old friends had nothing more to say to each other. When he was sure that he was alone and would not be interrupted, Lukien sat down in one of the dozen chairs and opened Cassandra’s note. Seeing the gentle penmanship erased all his doubts. Cassandra’s lilting style was as memorable to him as her voice or flawless face. And when he read her words, Lukien wept.
He had not wept for years, not when he lost his eye or saw comrades die in battle. Even when he’d been banished he had not wept, for to weep like a woman was a sure weakness and the toothy jackals of Norvor would have devoured him. But he wept now because he could not help himself. His past deluged him.
Cassandra had been succinct in her note. She had quickly confirmed everything Gilwyn Toms had told him, how she was still young and how the amulet’s curse had been a horrible jest and how Akeela still longed to be with her. He was mad, Cassandra said, and his madness might mean the doom of the Jadori. Unless, of course, he helped her.
Strong as always, Cassandra had not stooped to begging in her letter. She had asked Lukien to come to her. But only if his love for her was still alive. If not, she claimed, she would be unable to face him.
Come and I will know you love me, read the note.
Lukien read those same words over and over, amazed that she had harbored love for him these many years. He hadn’t thought himself worthy of such loyalty.
By the end of an hour he had stopped weeping. Thankfully, he had composed himself by the time Thorin Glass opened the door. The old Liirian poked his head inside the room. Spotting Lukien seated by a window, he announced himself very softly.
“Ryon, it’s me. May I come in?”
Lukien nodded. “Close the door behind you.”
Thorin did as he asked, shutting the big door quietly before drifting over to the window. He saw the note in Lukien’s hand and immediately guessed at its contents.
“From Cassandra?”
Again a nod. “She wants me to come back for her, Thorin. All this time, the curse has been a hoax.”
“So they did know about it, then,” said Thorin. “I thought they might, but they wouldn’t tell me. Nor did I tell them what I know.”
Lukien handed the note to his old ally. A long time ago, he had told Thorin Glass everything about Cassandra, including the remarkable tale of the Eyes of God. It took a while for the baron to read the note, so surprised was he by its contents. When he was done he simply lowered the note and gazed at Lukien.
“What will you do?”
“Go to her,” said Lukien. The answer came without hesitation. “She needs me and so do the Jadori.”
“You’re certain? The letter speaks of Grimhold, Ryon. This may all be some wildness of Akeela’s mind, some symptom of his madness.”
“No, I don’t think so. Akeela may be mad but Figgis surely isn’t. You don’t know him, Thorin. He was a brilliant man and I trusted him. I trust Breck, as well. If they believe this tale, then there’s truth to it.” Lukien folded the letter and put it into his shirt. “I’m going.”
“Then I’m going with you,” said Thorin.
Surprised, Lukien looked up at the older man. “You can’t.”
Thorin sneered, “I don’t take orders from you, remember?”
“Thorin, there’s no reason for you to take this risk. You don’t owe the Jadori anything.”
“No,” agreed Thorin Glass, “but I owe you my life. That’s a debt I’ve never been able to repay until now. So don’t argue with me, Ryon. You need my help and I’m going. And if you say I’m too old I will poke out your other eye!”
Lukien laughed. “A one-armed baron and a half-blind knight, led by a crippled boy. Great Fate, help us!” He rose and faced Glass, grateful to have his aid. “You’re right, I will need your help. But remember, Thorin, we’re outlaws in Liiria. If Akeela or Trager or anyone else discovers us, we’re dead.”
“I’ve been dead before,” said Glass with a shrug.
“And what of Jazana Carr? Doesn’t she frighten you?”
Glass grimaced. “I admit, that will be more difficult.”
“She loves you, Thorin.” Lukien grinned at his friend. “Don’t ask me why, but she does. If you leave her. . . .”
&
nbsp; “I’ll handle Jazana,” said Glass. “When do we leave?”
“Well, there’s no time to waste. We’ll have to leave tomorrow or the next day. But Jazana—”
“I told you, I’ll handle her,” Glass repeated. He was all sobriety suddenly, the same grim man who’d once led the House of Dukes. “You tell Breck and the boy about your decision. I’ll tell Jazana.”
“When?” asked Lukien.
Baron Glass headed for the door. “Right now, Ryon.”
“Thorin, wait,” Lukien called after him. When Glass paused to face him, he said, “Don’t call me Ryon anymore. From now on, my name is Lukien.”
37
Jazana Carr hadn’t always been wealthy. She was the only child in a family that wanted sons, a family that struggled until her father had staked his claim to a small diamond mine thirty years ago. Until then, the Carr family had enjoyed very little. Northern Norvor was a rugged place, and the Bleak Territories were infamous for fickle weather and failed farms. Gorin Carr, Jazana’s father, had lost his little farm to the whims of a Norvan drought. Finally driven to madness by deprivation, he had murdered the rightful owner of his little diamond mine and used the proceeds to buy protection. It was the first time Jazana had heard the word “mercenary,” and she had learned it well. Finally, there had been food on the table and the chance at a future. But there were still no sons.
When Jazana Carr was fourteen, her mother died. Her father, an ugly man by any standard, did not turn to other women to satisfy his lusts. He had a budding daughter at home and that was enough for him. Jazana Carr didn’t know the word rape then, but she learned its meaning nonetheless. She endured her father’s bed for three gruesome years, never telling anyone and barely acknowledging the gnawing shame within her. But by seventeen she was a grown woman and had gathered the courage to refuse her father’s demands. He had never touched her again, never spoke of it nor apologized nor made good for his acts in any way. She was a daughter, he reminded her, a powerless woman. Without a man, she was useless and unable to make her way in a world ruled by his kind.
By the age of twenty-one, Jazana Carr was finally free of him. Gorin Carr was dead from a gangrenous wound he’d gotten while hunting, and Jazana was his only heir. The diamond mine was hers, and Jazana Carr squeezed every last gemstone from it. She used her workers like slaves and built a tidy fortune from their efforts, hoarding the small diamonds they chiseled from the earth until she had enough to expand her empire. She brought another mine and then another, and in time she grew wealthy. And in those years she had a string of lovers, men she knew were attracted to her wealth and comely body, but who never lasted long. They were Norvan men, too proud to bow to a woman. They had tried to wrest control of the gem mines from Jazana, and when she refused they had left her. One by one, they disappeared.
Thorin Glass knew the sad history of Jazana Carr like an old lullaby. She had told him her tale shortly after they’d met and had been repeating it ever since. It was utmost on his mind when he went to speak with her. He knew she’d be hurt by his leaving; he hoped she wouldn’t cry. He loved Jazana but she could be so emotional at times. . . .
He found her where he expected, in the stables with her horse, Wolfsbane, a beautiful stallion that was Jazana’s pride and joy. Like a lot of males, Wolfsbane was spirited but Jazana’s crop kept him in line. Except for Jazana the stable was empty. Thankfully, Rodrik was nowhere to be found. As Glass entered the stable he found Jazana in Wolfsbane’s stall, absently brushing his splendid chestnut coat. She had her back turned to him and seemed to be brooding. Her hand moved over the horse in long, deliberate strokes. A strong scent of hay permeated the air but Glass could still smell Jazana’s perfume. She looked beautiful, even amidst the hay and musty wood.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” she said suddenly, not turning to face him. “When you sneak up on me I know you have bad news. He’s leaving, then?”
Glass walked up to her. “Yes.”
Jazana paused. Her shoulders slumped and the brush dropped to the ground. “Damn him.”
“It’s for Cassandra,” Glass explained. He had never told Jazana everything about the queen, and was careful now. “She sent a letter for Lukien. She wants him to come back.”
“After all these years?”
“You knew it could happen someday, Jazana.” Glass bent down and picked up the brush. Handing it to her, he said, “We’ve talked about this. You said Lukien could go any time he wished.”
“Thanks for reminding me,” hissed Jazana, snatching the brush from his hand. She went back to grooming. “After all I’ve done for him, this is how he repays me. Did you at least try to talk him out of it?”
Glass steeled himself. “I’m going with him, Jazana.”
This time, Jazana Carr was still as stone. She didn’t drop the brush. She didn’t move a hair.
“I have to,” said Glass quickly. “I owe—”
She turned like an adder and tossed the brush at him. “You’re going with him?”
Glass held his ground. “I am.”
“You’re not.”
“I am.” Glass didn’t blink. “You can’t talk me out of it, Jazana. I’ve made up my mind. Lukien needs me. I owe him my life.”
“You owe him?” asked Jazana, flabbergasted. “What about me, Thorin? What about us?”
“There is still us, Jazana.” Glass reached out and touched her cheek. “When I’m done with this—”
Jazana swatted his hand away. “When you’re done with this you’ll be dead! You’re an old man, Thorin. And if Akeela finds you he’ll skin you alive.”
“That’s a chance I have to take,” said Glass. He tried to smile at her, to make her understand. “I can’t let Lukien go alone, not after he risked his life saving me from Woe. I’m a man, Jazana. You can’t expect me to ignore my responsibilities.”
“Oh, yes, a man,” sneered Jazana. “What about your responsibilities to me? What about all we’ve worked for? I thought you wanted revenge on Akeela. Who else can give you that, eh? Only me!”
“It doesn’t matter. We can still do those things, after I help Lukien.”
“Doesn’t matter?” Jazana turned away and drifted toward the stable gate. “Have you any idea how many times I’ve heard those words from men? Nothing matters to any of you. Not even love.”
Glass went after her. “I do love you, Jazana.”
“No. You love my money and my body and what I can do for you. If you loved me you’d stay. If you loved me you wouldn’t make me beg like this!” Frustrated tears began running down Jazana’s cheeks. “I forbid you to go,” she spat. “You hear? I forbid it!”
Very carefully, Glass looked at her and said, “Jazana, I’m not your servant. I am Baron Glass of Koth. No one rules me.”
“I do!”
“You don’t,” said Glass, growing angry.
“Dog!”
Glass snapped. His hand shot out and slapped her face. Jazana stumbled back, her face contorting, tears flowing in hot streaks. She looked about to spring on him, but checked herself. Instead she straightened like a monarch.
“Go,” she said, her voice breaking. “Be gone by the morning.”
“Jazana, I—”
“Go!” she cried. “But know this, Thorin—you’re not welcome here ever again. When you’re done with your little quest, there’ll be no home for you in Hanging Man. And not in Liiria, either. I’m going to take Liiria someday, and when I do I’m going to find that family of yours. And I’m going to kill them.”
Glass couldn’t believe her threat. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that.”
“Go ahead, Thorin, leave,” challenged Jazana. She wiped her tears with her sleeve. “You don’t believe I can conquer Liiria? You think your family is safe from me?”
“Stop, Jazana. . . .”
“In a year I’ll have King Lorn on his knees. And then it’s Akeela’s turn.” Jazana’s face turned the color of bruised fruit. “I’ll do it just to spite
you, Thorin. I’ll do it just to prove what I can do!”
There was no arguing—Glass knew she was beyond reason. And now her threats had slammed the door on him. There was no way he could relent.
“I leave in the morning with Lukien,” he said. “Don’t try to stop us. If you do, there’ll be trouble.”
Jazana laughed through her tears. “Don’t flatter yourself, old man. I can find another lover. One with both arms!”
“And don’t you dare harm my wife or children,” Glass warned. He stepped directly into her face, summoning all his thunder. “If anything happens to them, anything at all, I’m going to blame you, Jazana Carr. And nothing in the world will save you from me.”
They stayed that way for a long moment, staring at each other, on the verge of blows. Glass could feel the coiled rage in Jazana, how she longed to rake her polished nails across his face. But she did nothing. She said not a word.
And Baron Thorin Glass knew there was nothing left for him to say, either. Shaking with anger, he turned from the woman he professed to love and strode from the stable.
38
After four days of ceaseless travel, Lukien and Gilwyn finally arrived in Koth. The homecoming left the Bronze Knight speechless. It was nearing dusk and the city was darkening. Shadows grew in the avenues. Lukien scanned the skyline of his forlorn home, awed by it. It had changed in the sixteen years since he’d left, but it was unmistakably home.
“Koth,” he whispered. From the confines of his cowl he could barely see Gilwyn in the wagon next to him. The disguise had done a good job of keeping away the curious, and Lukien suspected that no one would have recognized him anyway. During the four day ride north they had stopped only once to speak with other travelers, and Lukien had hidden from them behind his hood, pretending to rummage through the wagon for supplies. But the biggest test was yet to come.
“Look there, Lukien, on the hill.” Gilwyn pointed toward a tor in the distance, a huge overlook dominated by a single, remarkable structure. “See it?”
