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

White-Eye angrily, though she was more angry at herself than anyone else. She sank back into her chair, her appetite all but gone. Lorn was a man of terrible reputation, Gilwyn’s decision to leave him in charge of Jador had shocked her. He had not even asked her opinion. He had simply left Jador in Lorn’s hands, then fled north to rescue Baron Glass. White-Eye felt the weight of guilt crushing her shoulders. ‘Minikin should have told me she was going,’ she said.
    Around her, her fellow Inhumans had begun their meal. Servants began moving plates and setting pots down on the tables. White-Eye heard knives carving and the tinkle of glassware. She disappeared into the noise, hoping no one was watching her. The thought of Minikin riding to Jador saddened her, because she knew the little woman was unwell. The battle against Aztar had weakened her, sapping her good nature, making her feel old. And in truth, Minikin was old, far older than anyone else in Grimhold or Jador. She was hundreds of years old now, and amazingly, she was only now showing her age.
    ‘My lady? You should eat something,’ Monster suggested. He put some food into her plate, then pushed it closer to her. ‘Your fork is near your right hand.’
    ‘Monster, I’m not hungry. Let it be enough that I have come to be with everyone.’
    ‘You need strength, my lady, to recover.’
    ‘I am fine. And I can never recover from what’s happened to me.’
    ‘That is not true. You should not tell yourself such lies.’
    White-Eye felt trapped suddenly, not wanting Monster’s help but unable to get back to her chambers without him. She muttered, ‘You have your Akari still. I can never have another, and you have no idea what that is like. I have come because you asked me to come, because everyonewanted to see me. And here I am! But I cannot see them, Monster, and you cannot guess how horrible it is.’ She gave a heavy, lamenting sigh. ‘I am sorry, but that is the truth.’
    Monster did not argue with her. Instead he took her hand and wrapped it gently around her fork.
    ‘There is meat and carrots on your plate. Eat.’
    ‘I am not a child!’
    ‘No. You are kahana. Act like it.’
    Furious, White-Eye stabbed her fork down, skewering a piece of meat. Feeling it securely on the utensil, she carefully raised the fork to her mouth. The meat was too large, so she nibbled at it, wondering how grotesque she looked and reminding herself that she was indeed kahana.
    They are friends, she told herself. They will not laugh.
    And indeed they did not. The other Inhumans kept up with the meal they way they always did, though this time they gave the kahana the space she required. Instead of barraging her with anecdotes, they left her alone to eat. White-Eye chewed her food absently, listening to the chatter at the table. Dreena was speaking, talking about her day with the sheep. There were new lambs born today, three of them. One was black and smaller than the rest.
    ‘A runt,’ Dreena proclaimed. ‘Like Emerald. I wish Gilwyn was here to see it.’
    White-Eye stopped chewing, and for a moment the conversation stopped. She hadn’t heard Gilwyn’s name mentioned previously, for they all knew he had left and no word had been heard from him.
    ‘Continue, please,’ White-Eye told her companions. ‘I know Gilwyn is well. I am not worried about him.’
    It was a lie, but it helped to alleviate the tense mood, and soon Dreena went back to talking about the little black lamb that reminded her so much of Gilwyn’s kreel. Monster leaned over then and spoke gently to White-Eye.
    ‘You see? Isn’t it better to be with us, instead of alone in your chamber? You are doing well, my lady.’
    White-Eye smiled, happy at the compliment. Forgetting her blindness, she reached out for her goblet . . .
    And promptly knocked it over. The noise abruptly halted the conversation. White-Eye felt wine dripping into her lap, soaking through her gown. Heat rushed through her face in