The Forever Knight Page 2

  “Gilwyn?”

  He snapped back in his chair, wild-eyed with surprise. The pen spun from his hand. “Lukien!”

  Forgetting his cane, he kicked aside the books to reach me. It was a real hug, the kind brothers give each other. I stooped to tuck my face against his own and felt his kiss on my cheek.

  “Look at you!” he laughed, stepping back to see all of me. “You look. . horrible!”

  He steadied himself against his desk, favoring his clubbed foot. He still wore the special boot Figgis had made for him years ago. I stared back, smiling. He wasn’t a boy anymore, I realized. He hadn’t been a boy for years, really, and I don’t know why I only saw the change in him that moment. He even seemed a little taller. I went to his chair and pulled it out for him.

  “Clear that junk away,” he said as he sat down, gesturing to another chair covered with papers. “You just get back?”

  “Just now,” I said as I set the papers aside. I dragged the chair across the floor and sat down. Behind him, white towers and sand twinkled through the window. The room was warm but not unbearable, and Gilwyn’s hair fell into his eyes, damp with sweat. Like all of us from the continent he’d gotten used to the desert heat. I took the pack off my shoulder and dropped it to the floor. That’s when I noticed Gilwyn smiling, the same way Monster had.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I’m glad you’re back, Lukien.”

  “And? You’re hiding something.”

  Gilwyn shrugged. “White-Eye’s with child,” he said. Then he laughed. “I’m going to be a father!”

  This was news I didn’t expect. Gilwyn had married White-Eye less than a year ago, not long after the war with Ganjor. Suddenly, I felt angry at myself for having gone away.

  “Ah, good work!” I crowed. “When did you find out?”

  “Just before you left. White-Eye wanted to be sure.”

  “What do you call a little Kahan? A Kahanette?”

  “Or a Kahanarina,” joked Gilwyn. “If it’s a girl.”

  “Where’s White-Eye?” I said, getting out of my chair. “I have to see her.”

  “Who knows?” Gilwyn shrugged. “I’ve been up here all day going through petitions. They still come in, new ones every day.” The joy in his face went away. “Just sit, okay?”

  It’s easy to know when something’s on Gilwyn’s mind. His eyes sort of dance all over your face without really looking. He glanced at my sword, and that’s when I noticed the Eye of God around his neck, bulging out from under his shirt. Both of us were immortal now, or very nearly so. I had tried to die a dozen times since finding the sword, and the amulet Gilwyn wore had once been mine as well. I had cursed him with it just to save his life. It had stopped his aging, mostly, but not the havoc of worry. Since Minikin’s death he wasn’t only the Kahan of Jador-he was also Master of Grimhold now.

  Gilwyn leaned back, bracing me for what was coming. “Twenty-nine days.”

  “Yeah,” I nodded. “But you knew I’d be back.”

  “That’s the longest you’ve ever stayed away.”

  “You’re already sounding like a father, Gilwyn. I’m fine. Look at me.”

  “I am looking, Lukien. When was the last time you ate anything? Besides snake meat, I mean? Maybe that’s how you plan to kill yourself-starvation.”

  “Whoa,” I said, surprised. “Being a ruler has made you bold, Gilwyn. I’m a big boy, all right? Let’s talk about the baby.”

  He shook his head. “I want to know what’s going on with you. You said you were okay with keeping the sword. But all you’ve done since you found it is try to find new ways to hurt yourself. And you’re never here more than a couple of weeks at a time.”

  I got up and headed for the window. “You’re as bad as Malator. I thought you’d give me a day at least before badgering me.” I looked over the city, then beyond it to the desert. I had just returned from there and already I wanted to go back. “Fate above, I’m out of my mind with boredom,” I confessed.

  “You’re restless,” said Gilwyn.

  He sounded like a physician. I turned and gestured to all the books and papers tumbling off his desk.

  “Look at all this stuff you have to keep you busy,” I said. “Good thing you have the amulet-you’ll need eternity just to get through all these letters! The Inhumans need you, the refugees need you. . but none of them need me. Jador doesn’t need Shalafein anymore. Who am I protecting us from?”

  “Lukien,” said Gilwyn calmly, “you’re absolutely right.”

  I stopped raving. “I am?”

  “The baby isn’t the only news I wanted to tell you, Lukien. I’ve been talking with White-Eye. She agrees with me.” Gilwyn stood up and leaned on the edge of his desk. “It’s time you left Jador.”

  That staggered me. “You want me to go?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I mean, I’ve been thinking about it, all those things you said. It’s all true. Ganjor isn’t a threat any more, and there’s only a trickle of Seekers coming to the city now. Malator’s right, Lukien-you’re powerful. You can do a lot more good somewhere else.”

  “You want me to leave,” I said again. I was almost struck dumb. No one likes to be told they’re not wanted, and even though I knew that’s not what Gilwyn meant it still hurt a little. “I’m pledged to White-Eye,” I argued. “And to Jador. It’s not something I can just walk away from you know.”

  “You wouldn’t have to,” said Gilwyn. He shuffled over to my leather bag and poked it curiously with his cane. “You could be a knight-errant.”

  “What, a mercenary?” I’d already been one of those and lost my eye in the bargain. “Forget it.”

  Gilwyn looked annoyed. “Didn’t you read stories growing up? A knight-errant isn’t a mercenary. He’s like a champion. He goes from place to place looking for people to help. You know, in the name of someone, like a lady or a queen. You could do it in the name of Jador. That way you’d still be Shalafein. You’d still be keeping your vow.”

  “That’s crazy,” I scoffed. I didn’t want to admit it appealed to me. “I’m just supposed to wander around like some tramp?”

  “No, Lukien,” said Gilwyn sharply. “That’s what you have been doing. Clean yourself up, give your life some purpose. You’re like a caged animal here in Jador. This is a chance to find out what Malator means about your future.”

  He’d already thought it through, tying up his argument in a neat little bundle. Just the thought of leaving Jador was dreamy. I was glad when he looked at my bag again, trying to see inside it.

  “What is that?” he asked, lifting it partially with the tip of his cane and squinting inside.

  “Go ahead, look.”

  “I don’t trust you,” said Gilwyn. “Probably a bag of scorpions or. .”

  His eyes went wide when he saw the prize I’d brought back. He set aside his cane and opened the bag, pulling out the snake skin. Twice as wide as Gilwyn, he held it up like a sheet. The scarlet patterns of the rass’s hood looked fiery in the sunlight.

  “You did this yourself?” he asked.

  “Like pulling off a sock. Scaled it, too. Feel how smooth.”

  The skin was as supple as the leather bag and hadn’t even been tanned yet. I’d left most of it behind of course, but had carefully removed the most interesting part, the best part-the rass’s giant hood.

  “Beautiful,” said Gilwyn. “But what am I supposed to do with it?”

  “It’s not for you,” I told him. “It’s for Cricket.”

  “Oh.” Gilwyn looked relieved and handed the skin back to me. “So what’ll she do with it?”

  “I thought we’d make a cape for her. More than big enough for that.” I smiled as I tucked the skin back into the bag, knowing she would love it. I was always bringing things back from the desert for Cricket. Trinkets usually brightened her mood.

  “Good,” pronounced Gilwyn as he dropped into his chair again. “It’ll give her something to do. Maybe she’ll stop stealing chickens.”
>
  “What?”

  “She stole a chicken from the kitchen. Said she needed to set it free. Oh, and she painted one of the walls of the cistern, too. Stripes. She says it wasn’t her, but. . come on.” Gilwyn gave a big sigh and looked at me. “She misses Minikin. It gets worse when you go away.”

  I wasn’t sure what he expected me to do about it. I knew Cricket was attached to me, but she was fourteen years old and barely in control of herself. “I’ll talk to her,” I promised. “Where is she?”

  “Grimhold.” Gilwyn saw my surprise. “I needed to get her out from underfoot, Lukien. She likes going there. It’s good for her.”

  “No, it isn’t,” I huffed. “It reminds her of Minikin, and it depresses her.” I cinched up my bag, making to leave. “Let me go see White-Eye.”

  “Are you angry about Cricket or are you angry about my idea?” asked Gilwyn as I headed out.

  “When’s she coming back?”

  “I don’t know; a day or two. Go see her if you want. She’d like that. And Lukien? Think about my idea, all right?”

  “Right.”

  “It’s a good idea. You know it!”

  “Congratulations on the baby, Gilwyn.” I waved as I started down the hall.

  But I did think about his idea. I was worried about Cricket and worried about Jador and Grimhold and everything else, and I was sick of worrying. I imagined disappearing, going back home to Liiria or wandering around Norvor, or maybe going to a place where no one had ever heard of me. I could be a new person, I figured. I could forget about everything.

  Just like Cricket had.

  I bathed before going to see White-Eye. She was the Kahana and I was a tramp, and although she was blind and wouldn’t have minded my filth, it would have been an insult to her beauty. I took my time to ready myself, soaking the sand out of my fingernails and shaving the beard that had sprouted from my days in the desert. I let the serving girls comb my hair and convince me to perfume it. I was nervous about seeing White-Eye, and it irked me that I should feel so.

  Not everyone in Jador has an Akari. They are rare things, gifted to those in dire need. They are immortal but not indestructible, and White-Eye had learned that in the most horrible way, having her own Akari ripped from her by a demon. After years of being able to see through her Akari’s eyes, she was once again blind. But she was not bumbling or stupid, and most of all she wasn’t helpless.

  I found White-Eye that evening, looking after a group of playing children. There she sat in the middle of the garden, her delicate fingers macrameing as the boys and girls climbed trees and chased each other around a foaming fountain. I stopped at the edge of the garden, my face hidden by a trellis of vines as I studied White-Eye, looking at her belly for a hint of her growing baby. A contented smile warmed her dark face, working the knots of the fabric she was making, her head tilted slightly as she listened to the children frolicking around her. They were Jadori children mostly, with the same dark skin as her. Some of them I recognized, others I’d never seen before. As I took my first step toward them, only one of them noticed me at all-a sightless boy named Alik.

  He stopped midway up the tree he was climbing, turning his blind eyes toward me, seeing me in his mind the way White-Eye once could. I could easily imagine his Akari, Dianis, whispering my arrival in his ear. Before I could put a finger to my lips to silence him, Alik sprang down from the tree.

  “Lukien!”

  Some of the children turned to see me; others played their games. But White-Eye lowered her macrame at once. “Lukien?” She stood up, cocking an ear to locate me. Alik rushed to take her hand.

  “He’s here!” cried the boy, pointing at me as though White-Eye could follow. The green landscape between us was no obstacle at all to him. Everything, every plant and stone, was revealed in his mind by his Akari. Discovered, I laughed.

  “It’s me, White-Eye,” I said, going toward her and the boy. “I’m back.”

  A gaggle of children gathered around me, except for Alik, who protectively held his Kahana’s hand. I greeted them as best I could, pretending I knew them all. A girl with a clubbed foot like Gilwyn’s bounded toward me with ease. A deaf boy smiled when I said his name, understanding me perfectly. These were the children of Grimhold.

  “All right, let me talk to White-Eye now,” I told them gently. “Go back to playing-I’ll be around.”

  White-Eye kindly waited for me near the fountain. She had no need of young Alik’s help but held his hand anyway. The boy beamed at me.

  “We were wondering when you’d come,” said Alik. “Me and Kahana White-Eye was just saying that!”

  “Well I’m back now,” I said brightly. I leaned down and looked into Alik’s blank eyes, knowing he could see my face precisely. “Thank you for taking care of White-Eye while I was gone. Maybe I should call you ‘little Shalafein,’ eh?”

  “Alik likes to touch my belly. He says he can feel the baby inside me,” said White-Eye. She managed to grin at the silly notion so only I could see it. “Will you let me talk with Lukien, Alik?” she asked him. “Go and play-you can see him later.”

  Alik ran off without offense, the other children following his lead. When it was only us two, she gave me her prized smile.

  “Have you come to touch my belly?” she joked.

  But the offer was irresistible. I gently placed the palm of my hand on her stomach, feeling the flatness of it but knowing that inside it grew the offspring of my two closest friends. White-Eye sighed and closed her own hand over mine.

  “You will be the finest mother any child ever had,” I whispered to her. White-Eye chuckled. She’d been brave when her father died and brave when her eyesight was stolen. Having a child seemed not to trouble her at all.

  “And you must stay here to help us raise this child, Lukien!”

  “I’m here now,” I said without commitment. “Let’s sit.”

  We lowered each other to the edge of the fountain. Around us the children played and laughed. The great, white wall of Jador loomed in the distance, separating us from the throngs of foreigners that had come to White-Eye’s home. Foreigners like me. I had washed and scented myself, but White-Eye could tell I was troubled, and there was no point at all in hiding it from her.

  “I saw Gilwyn. Did he tell you?”

  “He told me. I expected you to come sooner, Lukien.”

  “I needed a bath first.”

  “No. I meant I thought you’d come home to Jador sooner. You were gone a very long while this time.”

  I nodded. “It is nice to be missed, though.”

  “You won’t find what you’re looking for in the desert. There is nothing in the desert. Only Jador.” She looked sad. “Jador won’t make you happy.”

  “And this scheme of Gilwyn’s? Do you think that will help me?” I asked sincerely. “I have been an adventurer most of my life, White-Eye.”

  “Adventure? You don’t understand, then. Purpose is what you need, Lukien. Find a cause and give yourself to it. And when you’re done, return here to us. That’s all we’re saying.”

  I looked down at her belly, imagining the child growing within. “I need to see your child,” I said. “I can’t be gone for that.”

  “Of course,” said White-Eye. “You must be here for that. I told you-I’ll need your help with this bundle! But there’s many months before the baby comes. Just go and then return. You can do that, can’t you?”

  Her words baffled me. Not her question but her statement. I kept staring down at her unborn child. “White-Eye, I’m a fighter. A killer. You want a child who lives in peace. What can I possibly teach your baby?” I thought about it. “A boy should learn how to use a weapon, I suppose. And I’m a good horseman. . I could teach your baby that.”

  “Lukien, no,” said White-Eye. “Anyone could teach our baby those things.”

  “What, then?”

  White-Eye grew unusually serious. “You make me say this? You saved this city from invasion. You destroyed the demon
that took away my Akari and made me blind. You are the hero of everyone in Jador. Lukien, boy or girl, you will teach my child the most difficult things of all. Things that cannot be learned from scrolls or stories: bravery and honor. But most of all, you will teach my baby goodness. Because even if you don’t think so, you are a good man, Lukien.”

  I sat there. I nodded. But I didn’t argue with her because I could not even speak.

  Ever gracious, she allowed my silence. She went back to her macrame, diligently making knots as I sat there beside her and watched the children play.

  3

  How can I describe Cricket? She’s like a mirror image, the opposite of what you think you see. She’s pretty but doesn’t care at all about looks. She hordes trinkets till they’re spilling out of her pockets. She complains about her chores but does them to perfection, and she loves to be alone but clings to me like bark. Near as we can tell she’s fourteen years old. Sometimes she acts half that age, sometimes twice it. She’ll talk for an hour then shut up tight for days, and no one-not even Minikin when she was alive-can ever figure out what’s going on inside her impish head.

  The day we left Grimhold, Cricket was in the mood to talk. She wore the cape we’d made together out of the rass skin, proudly primping it over her little shoulders as her pony sauntered through the canyon. I’d gone to Grimhold myself so we could work on the cape together. When she saw me arrive, Cricket circled me like a child searching for sweets, wondering what I’d brought her. The sun was hot on the black cape as we rode, but Cricket didn’t care. She was full of questions and eager to get back to Jador. I was happy just to see her smiling.

  A decent road winds from Grimhold to Jador, through a canyon of sheer, red rock. Inhumans and Jadori have used the road for decades, keeping their alliance secret. Before Gilwyn took over, Minikin was Grimhold’s mistress. She’d spent her vast lifetime searching for the kind of kids Gilwyn had been once. Blind kids or crippled, she brought them all to Jador for an Akari, for the chance to live a normal life. I’m an Inhuman now, too, in a way, because Malator keeps me alive. Without him, my old wounds would quickly kill me.