The Sword Of Angels (Gollancz S.F.) by John Marco Page A

eye instead of my mouth?’ she asked. ‘Make a joke to cover my clumsiness? Thank you, no.’ She went back to distracting herself with the spinning wheel, pretending to feed it wool and hoping Monster would leave. When he did not, she looked up at him again. ‘You may go now.’
    Monster hesitated. Then she felt his rough hand guiding her own, easing the strands of wool into the wheel.
    ‘You could do this if you wanted to,’ he said, ‘but you have not even tried, I can tell.’
    White-Eye froze under the accusation. She sat back on the stool, her shoulders slumping.
    ‘I did not want this thing,’ she said. ‘Minikin brought it here to distract me.’
    ‘No, to teach you,’ Monster corrected mildly. ‘Minikin knows you can do things if you will try.’
    ‘I am blind, Monster!’
    ‘Yes, I know,’ said the Inhuman evenly. ‘Does that mean you have no friends here?’
    The words struck White-Eye. She breathed to steady herself. There would be no convincing him, not this time. So she put out her hand.
    ‘Take it,’ she commanded. ‘And do not let go.’
    Monster was good to his promise. He carefully led White-Eye to the dining chamber of Grimhold, the place where the young kahana had always taken her meals and conversed with her fellow Inhumans. Tonight, the chamber was filled with familiar voices, most of which hushed when she entered. Monster ignored the silence, leading White-Eye to her familiar chair. Since losing Faralok, White-Eye had yet to be surrounded by so many people. She gripped Monster’s hand a little tighter as she took her seat.
    ‘Who is here?’ she whispered.
    ‘We’re all here, my lady,’ replied Monster.
    It was true, White-Eye knew, because even their stares were familiar to her. Next to her, she heard Monster sit himself down. His misshapen body could not comfortably accommodate a normal chair, so he always used a stool. White-Eye put her hands down to feel the table, a sturdy slab of rectangular marble stretching out into the chamber. There were others like it in the hall, too, enough to seat hundreds of Grimhold’s odd inhabitants. White-Eye did not have to listen hard to hear them all – they’re anxious breathing assaulted her.
    ‘Welcome, my lady,’ came a sudden voice.
    White-Eye turned toward the sound, wondering who had spoken.
    ‘It’s me, Dreena,’ the voice offered.
    ‘Oh, Dreena,’ White-Eye replied. She licked her lips, feeling flushed suddenly. ‘Hello.’
    Like most of Grimhold’s people, Dreena was an Inhuman, another blind girl who Minikin had found in Farduke as a child. She was about White-Eye’s age now, but still had an Akari to help her see.
    ‘Welcome, kahana,’ said another voice, and then another and another greeted her, overwhelming White-Eye. She sat leaned back in her throne like chair, nodding as she tried to recognize the voices. Most of them were easy for her to recall; she had spent years with these people. One voice, however, remained absent. White-Eye turned to Monster.
    ‘Is Minikin here?’ she whispered.
    ‘No, my lady.’
    White-Eye frowned. ‘No? Why not?’
    The hunchback sighed before answering. ‘She has gone to Jador.’
    ‘Jador?’ White-Eye puzzled over the comment. She was kahana of Jador, but had abdicated her responsibilities now. Still, she missed her homeland and its dark-skinned people. ‘Minikin said nothing of this trip to me. Why did she go?’
    ‘I do not know, my lady. She left early this morning. She took no one with her, only Trog.’
    ‘She has gone to do my work for me,’ said White-Eye sullenly. ‘What I should be doing.’
    ‘No, my lady.’
    ‘Yes, Monster, yes,’ White-Eye insisted. ‘First I let Gilwyn take charge of Jador, and now that he is gone a foreigner is looking after Jador.’
    ‘Minikin did not say why she was going to Jador,’ said Monster, fighting to contain his impatience. ‘But it was not to look after Lorn, I am sure.’
    ‘You are sure? How can you be?’ asked