by John Marco
It was bravado fed by Kahldris. Count Onikil looked at him as if he’d lost his mind.
‘Sir, who are you?’ he asked.
‘My name is Thorin Glass,’ said Thorin proudly. ‘Onetime dog to the Diamond Queen. I’m sure the name is familiar to you.’
‘Baron Glass?’ Count Onikil got to his feet, his face plainly astonished. ‘Truly?’
‘Aye, Baron Glass and back from the brink,’ said Thorin. ‘And ready to give Jazana the thrashing she deserves.’
Onikil shook his head in disbelief. ‘You can’t be Baron Glass. Your arm. .’
‘A fake,’ said Thorin. He’d been very careful not to move it much. ‘To hide my identity. But I assure you, Count — I am Baron Glass.’
Charged silence filled the room as the two noblemen stared at each other. Left speechless by Thorin’s claim, Count Onikil could barely make an utterance.
‘This is. . unexpected,’ he finally managed, all his diplomacy gone. ‘The queen has no idea you’re here, or even that you’re still alive.’
The statement bothered Thorin, but he was unsure why. ‘She must suspect I’m alive, or she wouldn’t have launched this war.’
Count Onikil became uncomfortable. ‘Perhaps. .’ He looked around at the unfriendly faces. ‘. . we could talk more privately.’
Breck leaned back. ‘Why?’
‘Because I am unaccustomed to being interrogated, Sir Breck.’ Onikil swept his hand toward the gathered soldiers. ‘And because not everything I say is for everyone to hear.’
Sensing the impending tide, Breck politely asked his men to leave — all of them. Nevins and the other commanders hesitated, but only for a moment. There was some grunting as they left the chamber. Vanlandinghale looked inquisitively at Breck, as if to ask, ‘Me too?’ Breck nodded. Van turned and left. When all of them had gone, Count Onikil licked his lips and rubbed his hands together nervously.
‘All right,’ he began carefully, ‘this was not what I intended. Baron Glass is right, Sir Breck — if not for him I doubt very much that Jazana Carr would be at your doorstep.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Breck.
‘He means my family,’ said Thorin. ‘That’s why Jazana’s come — to find them, threaten them. To flush me out.’
‘Your family is gone,’ said Breck. ‘Aric told you so.’
‘Aye, but Jazana doesn’t know that. She made a promise to me, Breck.’
‘It’s revenge, you see,’ said Onikil. ‘Baron Glass is precisely right. The queen’s vendetta has driven us to this precipice.’ A mischievous gleam sparkled in his eyes. ‘But perhaps we can do something about this. .’
He was a plotter; Thorin knew that about Onikil already. No man would have taken this mission without an inflated view of his own abilities, and Count Onikil’s opinion of himself was obviously great.
‘What are you thinking?’ Thorin asked.
Count Onikil was lost in thought. ‘Jazana Carr doesn’t know you’re here,’ he mused. ‘If she did. .’ He hesitated. ‘If she did, then she wouldn’t have to threaten Koth. She would have contacted you herself.’
Breck looked at the count, confused by his meanderings. ‘Make yourself clear, man.’
‘Sir Breck, do you want war? No, of course you don’t. I don’t want it either, and neither do many of the queen’s men. Only the queen herself wants this war, and only to prove herself to this man.’ Onikil pointed at Glass. ‘So why fight a war no one wants?’
‘What are you suggesting?’ asked Thorin. ‘Betraying your own queen? What kind of man-’
‘Please, Baron Glass, let me finish.’ Onikil pressed his dainty hands together and sighed. ‘I will speak truthfully to you. Jazana Carr she is. . now what is the word?’
‘Insane?’ Breck suggested.
‘Heartbroken,’ said Onikil. ‘Because you, Baron Glass, left her, and she has never been the same. She has all of Norvor now, but she neglects it. I’m Norvan. I don’t care at all about Liiria. What I want — what all of us want — is for Jazana to turn her attention back to Norvor.’
‘Where you’ll be more than a count, I take it,’ Thorin grunted.
Count Onikil smiled. ‘Is it wrong to be ambitious, sir? But you are right — if the queen goes back to Norvor — if we don’t all die in this silly escapade, then I might well be a prince in Norvor someday.’
‘I still don’t understand,’ said Breck. ‘What do you want us to do?’
‘It’s obvious,’ chirped Onikil. ‘Baron Glass, you must go to Jazana Carr.’
He said it with such ease, at first Thorin thought he’d heard wrong. But Onikil’s smooth smile told the truth — this fox of a man wanted a meeting between them.
‘What?’ blurted Breck. ‘Onikil, you’re as mad as your queen.’
‘Sir Breck, think for a moment,’ Onikil implored. ‘What could be better than a face-to-face meeting between the two of them? You and I are in the same leaky boat — we are caught between the two of them. But if they meet, if they make peace. .’
‘Peace?’ Breck erupted. ‘How can there be peace between them? How can there ever be peace after what she did to Andola?’
‘Oh, so you would pursue her into Norvor, then?’ Onikil’s voice dripped with sarcasm. ‘You would keep the war going to satisfy some point of honour?’ He waited for Breck to answer. Breck ground his teeth quietly. ‘No, of course you wouldn’t,’ Onikil went on. ‘You’d gladly let Jazana Carr slink back to Norvor. You’d even let her hold on to Andola if it meant peace for Koth. You see, Sir Breck? I am not the dunce you think.’
Checked by Onikil’s logic, Breck stewed. Onikil’s words worked their way into his brain. His eyes shifted toward Thorin.
‘Maybe he’s right,’ he muttered. ‘Thorin? What do you think?’
For Thorin, it wasn’t about peace at all, though he would never let Onikil know that. Rather, a more sinister plan began hatching in his mind. Was it Kahldris pushing him toward it, he wondered? Or did he hate Jazana Carr so much for all she had done to him? Even the thought of seeing her again stirred something deep and passionate inside him.
Good, he thought blackly. Then it will be a crime of passion.
‘Count Onikil, you are a snake charmer,’ he said softly.
The count smiled as if it were a compliment. ‘Thank you, Baron. I admit, it will do me no harm to bring you back from here. What a great prize I’ll be able to deliver!’
‘And be rewarded for it, no doubt,’ Thorin sneered. All the while he’d been careful not to move his enchanted arm. ‘But there is wisdom in your words. There’s no need for this war. Jazana and I parted on the worst of terms. Perhaps I can talk her out of all this madness.’
Onikil’s face shined with promise. ‘Good decision. Why should the rest of us die because of a lovers’ spat?’ He looked at Breck. ‘Now doesn’t that seem silly? Let’s have peace instead, eh?’
Breck’s mood remained heavy. ‘Baron Glass, you should think carefully on this. You may never walk out of Andola again.’
Thorin raised an eyebrow at him. Had he forgotten the armour? He said, ‘I am not afraid, and it’s the right thing to do.’ Because Onikil wasn’t looking at him, he signalled for Breck to get him out of the room. Breck took the hint.
‘Count Onikil, there are men waiting outside the chamber. They’ll take you to your bodyguards. Tell them to make you comfortable. Tell them it’s my order. They won’t question you.’
‘How about that drink?’ said Onikil, still twitching a bit from his predicament. ‘And some food?’
‘Just tell them outside,’ said Breck. ‘You and I will talk more later.’
Satisfied, Count Onikil walked off and left the giant reading room. Thorin heard him outside, talking to the soldiers and snapping his fingers for food and drink. An arrogant man, thought Thorin, but a sly one. When he was sure the count could no longer hear him, he turned to Breck.
‘Jazana knew what she was doing,’ he said. ‘Did you see how frightened he
was? That’s the kind of loyalty she gets out of men. She promises them the moon and stars, and they do whatever she asks.’
The meeting had depressed Breck. He took the letter from the table and brooded over it. ‘We wouldn’t have surrendered, you know. We still won’t if you change your mind. You don’t have to go meet her, Baron.’
‘Breck, you’re forgetting something,’ said Thorin.
Breck nodded. ‘I know. The armour. It’ll protect you.’
‘No,’ said Thorin. ‘It will do more than protect me. It will let me get right up to that bitch without a worry in the world.’
Puzzled, Breck looked up from the letter. ‘What are you saying?’
Thorin smiled. ‘I’m talking about the end of all our troubles, Breck. I’m talking about the end of Jazana Carr.’
Breck grimaced. ‘You mean murder?’
‘Murder?’ Thorin chewed on the word. It didn’t really fit. ‘No. Justice, rather. With the armour no one will be able to stop me, Breck. They won’t be able to keep me out, and they won’t be able to keep me from escaping, no matter how many men try to stop me.’
‘So you are talking about murdering her.’
‘Call it whatever you want,’ said Thorin dismissively. ‘I’ll call it righting some old wrongs. I’m going to Andola, Breck. And when I see Jazana Carr, I’m going to cut off her head and nail it to my wall as a trophy.’
39
The Audience
In all his time as a Liirian noble, Baron Glass had never been to Andola, but he had heard of the city’s splendour. His Andolan counterpart, the Baron Ravel, had been a man of exceptional means and great appetite, and it was said that the city he and his fellow merchants had built could rival Koth in every way. Now, as Thorin’s coach rolled into the ruined city, he knew what a gross overstatement that had been.
Andola was everything Koth had been in its infancy, a small city struggling for greatness, fed by the coffers of ambitious men but still not quite ready to conquer a kingdom. Andola’s roads were fine, solid and made to last. The structures that broke the horizon impressed Thorin; he knew that once they had been beautiful. Yet there were not enough of them, and not of the scale of mighty Koth. Like a little, feisty sister, Andola had tried to challenge Koth. And failed.
Thorin wiped at the fog on the window of his carriage, straining for a better view. Rain had fallen steadily since leaving Koth, obscuring the only thing that might amuse him on his journey — the view. Along with Count Onikil and his men he had ridden out of the library nearly two days earlier. Bored by the unchanging landscape, he had not been able to ride a horse of his own, keeping up the pretence that he really had no left arm. The Devil’s Armour remained on his body; the death’s head helmet rested on the seat beside him. He had done his best to hide the amazing armour from Onikil and his entourage, keeping his cape close around him. Onikil, of course, had noticed the strange armour immediately. Dazzled by its black brilliance, he had asked Thorin of its make, a question Thorin did his best to dodge. Telling him that the armour had been forged in Jador had mostly satisfied the count, probably because he was a provincial man and knew almost nothing about the Jadori, who never wore armour.
Still, Count Onikil had proven a remarkable travelling companion. Glad to be out of Koth with his life, Onikil had not questioned Thorin further about the armour, nor had any of his Rolgan soldiers. Instead, he was completely content to be returning to Andola with Thorin, a price he seemed certain would win Jazana’s favour. Onikil had even become at ease with Thorin, telling him things a less arrogant man would never reveal. The Rolgan had a loose tongue, confidently offering his opinion on Jazana Carr whenever the company stopped for rest or food. Expanding on the things he had said in Koth, Onikil told Thorin how tenuous Jazana’s hold over Norvor was, a point of some annoyance with the ambitious count. He made it very clear to Thorin that he loved Jazana Carr and admired her, and gave Thorin no real reason to doubt this, but he also seemed genuinely concerned about his homeland, a fact which impressed Thorin.
The long ride in Onikil’s carriage had given Thorin time to think, and as Andola grew outside his window he wondered about his plans to slay Jazana, and just how difficult it would be. Now that he was near, the desire to kill her rose up like a tide. He could feel Kahldris throbbing inside him, thirsting for blood. It had been weeks since the demon had fed, and Kahldris’ anticipation of the feast was heady. Thorin peered through the grimy window. Seeing the first hint of Andola’s grand castle, he knew that Jazana’s time was short. She might be dead in an hour. By nightfall, certainly. And he would flee from the castle as easily as he had entered, his armour freshly strengthened, the glamour of Kahldris on him like a dark halo, making him invincible.
‘Soon,’ he murmured, as much to Kahldris as himself. The Akari stayed silent, though his hunger thundered. It was hunger for more than blood, Thorin knew; Kahldris loved being alive again. He anticipated seeing the beautiful Jazana Carr as much as Thorin himself.
The thought blackened Thorin’s mood. He would kill her because she deserved it, because she threatened all of Liiria. And he would enjoy it.
He licked his lips, suddenly nervous. He missed Jazana sometimes, and admitting it annoyed him. He settled in for the short ride remaining. Onikil had sent a herald ahead. By now Jazana knew he was alive, and that he was coming to see her. Picturing the rage on her pretty face, he was glad he had worn the armour, if only to save him from her catlike nails.
Jazana Carr sat still as stone upon the throne of gold and rubies. Since coming to Ravel’s home, she had never used the ostentatious thing, but now she knew the time was appropriate. Two long processions of soldiers lined the way from the throne room doors, standing like posts along the scarlet-red runner leading to the dais. No one spoke or cleared their throats or even turned to look at her. Rodrik Varl stood to the right of the throne, his face twisted miserably. The grand throne room echoed with every tiny sound, the marble and great vaulted ceiling magnifying the slightest breath. Jazana’s soldiers were grandly attired, each in a new Norvan uniform. Would it impress Thorin, Jazana wondered? Should she even care?
The herald Count Onikil had sent ahead had shocked Jazana with his news. Never a woman prone to fainting, she had hurried to find a seat upon hearing of Thorin’s arrival. That he was alive was stunning enough, but to have him coming to talk peace with her. .
It had sent her into a spinning rage.
And then, the deepest regret had settled over her. She longed for Thorin. Still, after conquering all of Norvor and sending King Lorn the Wicked running like a deer, she missed Thorin’s touch and gentle ways. And she hated herself for that. Determined not to show him the slightest tenderness, she had arranged this showy welcome. She was powerful and he would know it. Finally, he would admit to her that she had won.
Beside her, Rodrik Varl shifted as he eyed the open doors to the throne room. They were giant doors, gilded with gold and ornately carved with vines and beautiful figures. No doubt they had cost the vain Ravel a fortune. But all the velvet and pomp seemed to disturb Rodrik, and Jazana knew why. Though he had always gotten along with Thorin, they had always vied for her attention. Clearly her beloved bodyguard didn’t care to have his competitor around again. Jazana slipped a multiringed hand over the throne toward him. He hesitated before taking it. His eyes were full of concern. She smiled slyly.
‘He comes to talk peace because we have beaten him,’ she reminded Rodrik. Her voice boomed unintentionally through the chamber. ‘All of you remember that,’ she said. ‘We are conquerors now. Baron Glass is the vanquished.’
Those lining the runner nodded, including Kaj. The mercenary who had helped Jazana take Andola had also known Thorin well during his long tenure in Norvor. They had even been friends. Kaj’s dark eyes blinked questioningly, but he said nothing. When he had heard of Thorin’s return, he had simply grunted.
A nervous dither worked Jazana’s stomach. She let go of Rodrik and clasped her hands onto her lap
. It would not be long now; her men had already spotted Thorin and were escorting him and Count Onikil to the throne room. Almost unconsciously, Jazana checked herself, imagining her hair and priceless gown and the way her rouge made her look younger. She was not young any more, but she wanted to look perfect.
At last she heard footfalls coming down the hall. Shadows began darkening the chamber’s threshold. The heavy, familiar steps of her former lover heightened Jazana’s anxiety. She sat up straight in the magnificent throne, arching her back like the queen she’d become.
She saw Count Onikil first. His half-mad smile gleamed at her from across the chamber. He took two lanky steps into the throne room, then bowed.
‘Dear Queen.’ His voice echoed musically in the marvellous chamber. ‘As promised, I have brought a visitor for you. Baron Glass of Koth, my lady.’
Thorin stepped into the throne room to the gaze of fifty spectators. The Devil’s Armour shining in the lamplight, he glided in without a sound, his frightening helmet tucked neatly in his elbow, his magical arm hidden beneath his brocaded cape, dangling in feigned uselessness. His Akari sword hung ready at his belt. His eyes caught fire when they glimpsed Jazana Carr. Beside her stood Rodrik Varl, the red-haired mercenary who’d once been his friend. Along the scarlet runner were other familiar faces, too. Thorin glimpsed them all peripherally, his true interest fixed on the throne and its occupant. He stepped up to Count Onikil, who had risen from his bow, and barely inclined his head.
‘Jazana,’ he said in greeting, refusing to give her title. His every nerve taut, he prepared himself to spring, unsure if this was all some elaborate trap. Locking eyes with Jazana Carr, he saw the fury his manner stoked in her.
