“But I am a member of this unique little family, Rance,” Diala replied with a venomous smile. “We’re all in this together. ’Til the end of time. I’m entitled to my opinion.”
“It’s the irritating assumption that everyone else is entitled to it that seems to be the issue here,” Krydence remarked sourly.
Diala ignored him, stopping in front of Syrolee’s throne. Engarhod was absent, but then the emperor often is when there are awkward decisions to be made. Somewhere between my immolation, the destruction of Magreth, and several peaks and ebbs of the Tide, the priestesses responsible for the Eternal Flame and the Empress of the Five Realms had had a falling out. I don’t know the details, but there’s no love lost between the women these days. Their animosity was such that Arryl and Diala had even gone so far as moving to another continent by then, taking the Eternal Flame with them. They were settled in Glaeba; their temple and the precious flame they guarded perched on the edge of a small hill overlooking the Great Valley.
Ironically, it was their presence in Tenacia that had precipitated this current crisis. A Scard attack on the caravan bringing Arryl and Diala to the palace via their grand tour of the major cities of Tenacia had been thwarted by magic, wielded not by a Tide Lord, but by one of our own—one of our mortal offspring. Given the carelessness with which we Tide Lords spilled our seed back then, it was anybody’s guess whose child Fliss actually was, but that didn’t lessen our problem. If anything, it made the decision to be rid of the child even harder.
Any man in the room might have fathered her.
Her parentage was the least of Diala’s concerns. “On the contrary, Syrolee, this issue concerns my sister and me a great deal. We were there, remember.”
“An unfortunate accident I would have done a great deal to have prevented.”
Diala smiled, an edge of malice in her dark eyes. “How awkward for you, Syrolee. If the child had been killed in the attack, you’d never have discovered there was something wrong with her. The poor child survives it, and now you’re going to kill her anyway.”
Arryl let out another wordless cry of protest. She looked haggard. Distraught. The only one among us displaying any obvious emotion, Arryl was perhaps the last of us left with any human compassion.
“We have no need of your help, Diala,” Elyssa declared. “Or your counsel.”
Poor Elyssa…I know she was responsible for the Crasii. I know she’s a whining, vindictive little bitch, but you can’t help but feel sorry for her. Even with all her power she never gets it right. That day, as I recall, she was dressed like her mother, somehow making the elegant drape of her gown look awkward and ungainly. Neither had she mastered Syrolee’s trick with eye make-up. Her eyes just looked as if someone had blacked both of them with a fist.
But she’d gained a lot of confidence since the Crasii were created and now fancied her opinion held significant value.
“Don’t you, Elyssa?” Diala asked, no more able to stand Elyssa than the rest of us who weren’t actually related to her. “How many more have slipped by, I wonder? How many more of these abominations do you unknowingly harbour in the palace creche?”
“Fliss is not an abomination!” Arryl objected.
“She’s actually quite talented,” Jaxyn remarked, from his seat on the edge of the dais. “It would be a shame to just destroy her out of hand.”
I frowned at Jaxyn’s comment. Hearing that sleazy little reprobate defend the girl in question was vaguely ominous. Jaxyn had no interest in the child that I knew of. No more than any other man in the hall, at any rate.
“Syrolee is right, though,” Rance agreed. “If anything, knowing how strong Fliss might be merely reinforces the argument that the child should be destroyed.”
“What say you, O Immortal Prince?” Syrolee asked. She looked across the hall at me. “What do you think we should do with the child?”
I was listening to the argument from the balcony, hoping nobody would include me in the discussion. A futile hope, it proved. I turned to face them. “I think it would be foolish to kill her.”
Arryl stifled a whimper of relief at my words.
“Why?” the empress demanded.
“Because she can’t actually harm us…not in the long run. Your fear is for your political position here in Tenacia, not that she might represent some sort of threat to the Tide Lords. Besides, this is the first time we’ve discovered a mortal child actually able to wield Tide Magic; one that we know of, at any rate. I think you should find out why, not just destroy her out of hand because she’s different.”
“Her death can be made to look like an accident,” Rance suggested calmly. “It would certainly be better for all concerned if those pompous fools in Torlenia never found out it was deliberate.”
“Rance…no!” Arryl cried. “How can you even suggest killing a child in cold blood?”
“She’s a mongrel, Arryl. The sooner you accept that, the better for everyone.”
Syrolee turned to her eldest stepson, looking for his support. “Krydence?”
He shrugged uncertainly. “I don’t know what to advise. If the child really can wield Tide magic, then maybe Cayal is right. We ought to learn something about how this odd thing happened, I suppose.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. Not only was it rare for Krydence to agree with me, the last time the Tide Lords had decided to “learn something about how an odd thing happened,” it resulted in the Crasii.
“If we’re going to kill her, it’ll have to be dealt with quickly and quietly,” Tryan suggested, leaning on the side of his mother’s throne. Given a choice, he’d be sitting in Engarhod’s empty place, and often did when his stepbrothers weren’t around. We’d come to a sort of uneasy truce by then. I still hadn’t forgiven him for what he did in Kordana, but there was now a chain of unstable islands where Magreth and their wretched palace had once been, so I figured we were pretty much even. “Krydence is right, Mother. We can’t risk news of this reaching Torlenia.”
And Medwen, was my unspoken addendum. We Tide Lords have long memories and this was a mere decade or two after Medwen’s child was taken from her. The child was long dead, of course. She’d been impregnated with a Crasii as soon as she was old enough and died in childbirth. I’d been able to establish that much since arriving in Tenacia.
What I hadn’t done was tell Medwen about it.
It was cowardly of me, I know, but how do you tell a mother something like that? It was easier to keep up the charade with Syrolee and the others that I’d heard about the Crasii and was interested enough in having a slave race to cater to my every whim to donate my seed. They believed me, too.
I suppose when you’re essentially without morals of your own, it’s easy enough to believe others are like that, too.
Did I sleep with numberless slave girls while I was in Tenacia with the sole aim of impregnating them so the Crasii farms could blend their unborn children with animals in Elyssa’s bizarre experiments?
Certainly.
Could I tell you their names?
Not a one.
Did I rape them?
Probably, although I’m vain enough to think I’m a considerate lover and that I was able to make it a less traumatic experience than the others might have done. Besides, taking a woman by force strikes me as being far too much effort for the reward involved.
I don’t know if it made the slightest difference to the women they sent me—none of whom was a volunteer—other than not being sent back to the farms covered in bruises, but it allowed me to live with myself, which is an important consideration when there is no alternative.
Regardless of how I’ve managed to justify what I did to myself since then, the fact is, when one is in Tenacia, one does as the Tenacians do. I was a spy, after all, and my cover included having to give the impression I fully supported this bizarre plan to create blended animal slave races and was willing to do whatever it took, to help the cause.
I did warn you this wasn’t a pa
rticularly noble time in my life, didn’t I?
I understood why they feared the news reaching Torlenia, all too well. Over something like this, Medwen’s grief at the disappearance of her long-dead child would stir to anger and probably stir Brynden and Kinta along with it. Brynden is as powerful a Tide Lord as any of us, prone to championing noble causes and not too concerned about the cost in ordinary human lives in order to set things right. While I’m not suggesting for a moment that Syrolee or any of the others gave a fig about saving mere human lives, wars are messy, expensive and disruptive. Don’t mistake our reluctance to fight for anything other than what it is—expedience.
We go out of our way to avoid wars because they’re impractical.
I had my own reasons for hoping news didn’t filter back to Torlenia, not the least of which was the fact that I’d come here two decades ago to gain intelligence for my friends and never actually returned with the information they wanted.
“We?” Arryl echoed. “When did this become our problem, Tryan?
You’re the ones who caused this calamity, you and your sick experiments—messing with nature just to see what sort of beasts you can make.” Suddenly, she turned on me. “What about you, Cayal? Are you just going to stand by and let them kill an innocent child?”
I shrugged, wishing I’d had the sense to stay out of this argument. I could have ignored Syrolee’s summons to the throne room. In hindsight, I probably should have. “Been to a Crasii farm lately? What’s one more dead mortal, give or take?”
“But this isn’t Crasii magic!” Arryl insisted. “Fliss isn’t a deliberate blend of two species. She’s a Tidewatcher! The only crime this child is guilty of—this child who happens to be the daughter of one of you, incidentally—is trying to do the right thing.”
“This child killed thirteen people, Arryl,” Syrolee reminded her.
“They were Scards, and she saved the life of every mortal in our entourage, too, don’t forget that!”
Syrolee shook her head impatiently. “The mortals Fliss saved are of no consequence. The child threatens to undermine everything we’ve worked for. Cayal is right about that much. People believe the Tide Lords, and only the Tide Lords, can manipulate the Tide, and our power over them rests firmly on that premise. If word gets out a mortal has the same ability, our authority will be seriously eroded.”
I was tempted to point out the mortal belief that all immortals could manipulate the Tide was likely to be far more damaging if it got about that they couldn’t, but decided to hold my tongue. I was a fool for coming here in the first place. No need to compound the error by getting caught up in the argument.
“Even if you think it foolish sentiment,” Jaxyn added, “if we don’t kill this accursed child, Arryl, what in the name of the Tides are we supposed to do with her?”
“We will kill her,” the Empress of the Five Realms announced. “And then we test all the other children in the creche and kill any others who might display the same ability. Let that be the end of it.”
Syrolee looked at each one of us in turn, until we all nodded our agreement. Even Arryl agreed in the end. A trace of compassion she might have, but she still inevitably bows to Syrolee’s wishes when it comes to the crunch, and probably always will. Diala’s reasons for agreeing were somewhat different, I suspect. In truth, she probably cared little for the fate of Fliss. She just enjoyed the chance to argue with Syrolee whenever the occasion presented itself.
“Then that just leaves the question of who’s going to do it?” Tryan said.
“I will!” Elyssa volunteered. “Never could stand the little brat, anyway.”
“No,” I said heavily, not sure why I volunteered. “I will.”
“You?” Tryan asked, clearly sceptical of the offer.
I shrugged and met his gaze without flinching. “Like I said, Tryan, what’s one more dead mortal, give or take?”
“Cayal!” Arryl called, falling in beside me on the shaded path as I was heading back toward the palace guest quarters. The air was warm and the magnificent gardens in full bloom. I can’t tell you what flowers they were, but I do remember they were blooming. Syrolee likes her flowers and many of the plants that crowded the carefully tended walkways were magically encouraged to flower, despite the fact that beyond the walls of the palace the rest of Tenacia had, until recently, been caught in the grip of a particularly savage winter.
“Arryl.”
“Are you really going to do this?”
“Syrolee was right, you know,” I told her, deciding avoidance was better than confrontation. “You should go back to Glaeba. This is none of your concern.” Refusing to be drawn any further on the matter, I kept on walking.
Behind me, Arryl folded her arms stubbornly. “That’s not what I asked you, Cayal.”
I stopped and turned to look at her. Arryl and Diala have the same eyes, although there the similarity between the sisters ends. It’s a pity really, that I was at odds with her. I have none of the animosity for Arryl that I have for her sister. “Look…I agree it’s not very fair…”
“But you’re still going to kill her, aren’t you?”
I shrugged. “Somebody has to. At least I’ll do it cleanly and I won’t gain any particular joy from the act, which is more than I can say for a few others around here.”
She studied me for a time, her expression puzzled. “What are you doing here, Cayal?”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s a straightforward question. Why are you here in Tenacia? You don’t like Syrolee and Engarhod. You can’t stand Elyssa. You’re perpetually at odds with Krydence and Rance and I’m certain you’d nail Tryan to a wall if you thought you could manage it. You and Jaxyn haven’t traded a civil word in a hundred years, and I’m damn sure they still haven’t forgiven you for what happened after you decapitated Pellys. So why are you here?”
“This place is no better or worse than any other place,” I said. “And as someone pointed out to me once, it’s a lot of work being a deity. It’s much easier to ride in the wake of people who enjoy doing this sort of thing.”
“You never used to be such a cynic.”
“We’re all cynics, Arryl. Every one of us.”
Arryl didn’t disagree with me, but she wouldn’t easily concede the point, either. “Cynic or not, Cayal, Fliss is just a baby. Even if you’re callous enough to stand by and watch the Crasii being made without being sick, how can you kill a baby in cold blood?”
“Babies don’t wield Tide magic and kill people with it,” I pointed out. I didn’t really want to fight with Arryl but there was no point in her harbouring false hopes for the child. For once, I thought Syrolee was right. A mortal able to wield Tide magic was just too dangerous. “It’s bad enough that some of us can influence the Tide. Do you really want mortals to be able to do it, too?”
“Would they be any less dangerous than us?” she asked.
“Probably worse,” I replied. “We, at least, don’t have to worry about running out of time.”
She shook her head obstinately. “I don’t see the difference. We’re not gods.”
“To mortals we might as well be.”
“More’s the pity.”
She wasn’t going to let this go, I realised with despair. “Have you any idea how strong that child is? Forget the fact that she killed more than a dozen Scards, and she’s only—in your words—a baby. She can swim almost as deep into the Tide as I can. I dread to think what she’ll be capable of when she matures. Throw in a bit of mortal impatience with that mix and the safest thing for everyone on Amyrantha might be to kill her now and to hell with the consequences.”
“Fliss can’t help what she is, Cayal.”
“She could be the biggest threat this world has faced since we came along,” I warned.
“Or she might be our salvation,” Arryl retorted.
I shook my head, convinced that, however unpalatable the act, killing this six-year-old girl might be the most sensible thing I’d
done in years.
“What do you want, Cayal, not to do this thing?”
“Arryl, if I don’t kill her, I’ll never hear the end of it. And one of the others would simply do it instead.”
She glared at me. “What’s more important, Cayal? Your reputation or your daughter’s life?”
I shook my head, smiling at her. “You can’t play the guilt hand on me, Arryl. You don’t know whose child she is.”
“Yes, I do.”
“It won’t work,” I warned, turning my back on her. “Nice try, though.”
“Elyssa keeps records,” Arryl informed me as I walked away. “She doesn’t tell you or the others about them for precisely the reason we’re standing here now.”
Suddenly filled with trepidation, I stopped and turned to stare at her.
“Fliss is your child, Cayal. Alita was fathered by Krydence. Nilaba was fathered by Jaxyn and Travus is Rance’s son. Tryan hasn’t fathered a Tidewatcher in years, but Elyssa’s waiting for the most opportune time to tell Syrolee. I don’t think she’s annoyed enough at her brother right now, to do anything about it.”
“How do you know she keeps records?” I asked, hoping Arryl was wrong, even while knowing she probably wasn’t. Arryl isn’t the liar among us. She’s the one who picks beaten travellers up off the road and nurses them back to health.
“I’ve seen them.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Yes, you do,” she said, stepping a little closer. “That’s why you volunteered to do this dreadful thing yourself.”
“Now you really are imagining things.”
“Even if you don’t see the physical resemblance in the child, I still believe you offered to do this, Cayal, because in your heart, you suspect the truth.”
“We’re Tide Lords, Arryl. We no longer have hearts.”
“That’s not true.”
“Visit a Crasii farm sometime,” I suggested. “That should convince you.”
The Immortal Prince Page 41