“Of course I remember Lady Desean,” Warlock replied, glaring at Declan as if he was offended the spymaster thought he might not remember her.
Declan crossed his arms, leaning against the edge of the counter opposite the table. “Jaxyn had a canine from Lebec slit his own throat in front of her to prove how loyal the Crasii are, Warlock. I can’t impress upon you enough the danger you’ll be in until the immortals are convinced you’re loyal.”
Warlock was silent for a time, digesting that information.
“You do understand what Declan’s telling you, don’t you?” Tiji asked, not at all certain that even with Declan’s dire warning, Warlock fully appreciated the threat he faced once he reached the palace. He may have spent a couple of months across the hall from the Immortal Prince, but, by all accounts, Cayal had been on his best behaviour during his incarceration. Besides, Cayal wasn’t known for his wanton cruelty. Except in Torlenia where he was universally reviled, the Immortal Prince was mostly famous for his exploits with the opposite sex, and the dire consequences of his various dalliances. Although as ruthless and self-obsessed as any other immortal when he had to be, it seemed the Immortal Prince just wanted to die. He didn’t care enough about lording it over humanity, as a rule, to cause the sort of trouble the Tide Lords like Jaxyn and Diala did.
“I understand,” Warlock said, nodding his head. “You want me to behave like a Crasii. To obey the orders of the immortals, even if it means killing an innocent Crasii.”
“Even if it means killing ten of them,” Declan corrected, the firelight from the stoves adding a demonic cast to his features that Tiji suspected would do little to reassure Warlock. “We must find out what they’re planning. That’s only going to happen if we have someone in the palace who can get close enough to Jaxyn and Diala to find out what’s going on. That won’t happen unless you pass Jaxyn’s test.”
Tiji guessed he was trying to give the impression it didn’t bother him, but Warlock couldn’t completely hide his horrified expression. “You expect me to accede to such a request? Without objecting?”
“Worse. If you take on this job, I expect you to do it without so much as blinking,” the spymaster told him. “The slightest hesitation and you’re blown, my friend. The Tide Lords will know you’re a Scard, and they’ll kill you. Then they’ll wonder why Lady Ponting sent them a Scard as a wedding present and they’ll kill her. Then they’ll trace your movements back to Aleki and the rest of your brethren in Hidden Valley and kill all of them, too, including your mate and your unborn pups. Do you get the picture?”
Warlock nodded, looking decidedly unhappy.
“I need to be very sure you can do this, Warlock,” Declan added, eyeing the big canine warily. Tiji could tell Declan was doubtful. Nor was she surprised by his doubts. What the spymaster was asking of this Scard was no easy thing.
“If you don’t think you can do this, we won’t hold it against you,” she said, hoping to reassure him. “This is a dreadful thing to ask of any creature, human or Crasii. Declan will understand if you’re not sure you can handle killing in cold blood just to satisfy a wretched Tide Lord that you really are totally subservient to his will, won’t you, Declan?”
The spymaster nodded, a little miffed, perhaps, at her implication that he was forcing Warlock into something against his will. “Of course, I’ll understand. And Tiji’s right. Nobody will think any less of you for not wanting to kill your own kind.”
Warlock’s gaze swivelled between them. “Is there nobody else who can do this thing for you? No other way?”
“Qualified Scards are pretty thin on the ground, Warlock. Tides, Scards are pretty thin on the ground, for that matter.” Declan shook his head apologetically. “You’re it, I’m afraid.”
“Not that he’s trying to pressure you, or anything,” Tiji added, giving Declan a look that spoke volumes. She was beginning to think this was a very bad idea. Warlock was big and scary to look at, sure enough, but after a week on the road with him, she’d begun to realise he was quite a gentle creature at heart. She wasn’t sure the canine possessed the ruthlessness required to be a really effective spy.
“May I think about it?”
“If you want,” Declan agreed. “I’d like a decision soon, though. Every day the Tide comes back a little stronger. We don’t have long.”
“And you’ll make sure I’m back in Hidden Valley in time for the birth of my pups?”
“I’ll certainly try,” Declan agreed.
Warlock nodded, his expression grim. “Then I’ll let you know my decision tomorrow. May I be excused?”
“You’re free, Warlock,” Tiji reminded him. “You don’t need his permission to leave the room.”
“Old habits are hard to break, Tiji,” the canine replied. “Will you excuse me, Master Hawkes? I have a lot to consider.”
“By all means. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.”
The canine bowed with court-bred grace and turned away. Neither Declan nor Tiji spoke until he’d closed the kitchen door behind him.
“Well, you were a big help. Thanks,” the spymaster said, once they were alone.
She smiled at him brightly. “Any time.”
“What do you think?”
“About Warlock? I think you’re nuts, Declan. He’ll get himself killed the first time someone looks at him sideways. He’s no spy.”
“Which is why he should do well, I think.”
She cocked her head at him, amazed at the ability of humans to justify anything unpalatable with such ridiculous logic. “There’s an interesting rationalisation. And you appear to have thought it up on the spot. I’m impressed.”
Declan shrugged. “I mean he’s the real thing. He’ll not be trying to pretend to be a steward whilst really being a spy.”
“No, he’ll be pretending to be a spy whilst really being a steward. That’s so much safer.”
Declan smiled at her. “Think you’d make a better spymaster than me, Slinky? Be my guest.”
“No, thanks.” Tiji didn’t react to being called by her slave name. This man had saved her from a lifetime of pain and humiliation, and even when he was teasing her, she never felt belittled. In fact, Declan Hawkes was probably the only living creature on Amyrantha who could call her “Slinky” and get away with it. “The King’s Spymaster has to work for that pompous idiot, King Enteny, the pay stinks, and the hours are terrible…”
“But you do get to send innocent people to their deaths, on occasion,” Declan reminded her. “Not to mention the opportunity to torture enemies of the state all you want, and the odd invitation to a ball at the palace.”
“Well…if it includes balls at the palace,” Tiji mused, rubbing her chin as she feigned deep thought on the matter. “That’s a different story. I might have to consider deposing you, after all.”
Declan’s good humour faded as he asked his next question. “Well, while you’re thinking about it, tell me what happened in Cycrane.”
She smiled. “Well, the good news is that having been confronted by a Tide Lord and walked away from him without doing a single thing he ordered me to do, I know for certain now that I’m a Scard.”
“And the bad news?”
“The Empress of the Five Realms is back, Declan,” she said, all trace of amusement evaporating with her announcement. “And you can bet she’s planning to bring the rest of her Tide-forsaken family with her.”
Chapter 13
It was several weeks before the Imperator of Torlenia agreed to receive the Glaeban ambassador. Arkady wasn’t permitted to attend the meeting, of course, so she had to settle for pacing the seraglium for half the morning until Stellan returned from the royal palace to tell her what had happened.
The importance of this meeting could not be underestimated. If it went well, then Stellan had some hope of resolving the issue of who owned the Chelae Islands, which meant they could return home sometime before they both died of old age. On the other hand, if it went badly, it might set their cause
back years. The Imperator was a fickle and difficult young man, by all accounts. Although Chintara only rarely mentioned her husband, when she did speak of her lord and master, it was in glowing terms of his strength and honour.
At the sound of the outer door of the seraglium opening, Arkady turned in time to see Stellan stepping into the hall. He was still dressed in his court finery. He’d obviously come straight from his audience with the Imperator.
“How did it go?” she asked without preamble.
“All right, I suppose,” he said, shrugging off his formal velvet Glaeban-styled coat with its fine, embroidered cuffs and lapels, tossing it aside with relief. He looked ready to wilt. It must have been awful for him, sitting through an entire audience with the Imperator in such cumbersome attire.
“Did you get around to mentioning the Chelae Islands?”
Stellan shook his head and sat on the couch, loosening the high collar of his shirt. “Tides, no! That would have been far too easy. We spoke of the weather. And horseracing. Lots and lots of horseracing. Have you noticed these people are obsessed with horseracing?”
Arkady forced a smile and took a seat opposite her husband, pouring him a drink from the wine jug on the low enamelled table between them. “Yes, I’ve noticed that. Will he agree to meet again to discuss Chelae, do you think?”
Stellan nodded. “I imagine so. It was a pleasant enough audience, so he may not mind seeing me a second time. You’re disappointed, aren’t you?”
“A little,” she admitted. “Although, I don’t know why. It’s a miracle you got in to see him at all after your predecessor’s less-than-diplomatic tantrum. I never expected the Imperator to invite you over for tea and resolve an issue on your first meeting that’s been a bone of contention for two hundred years.”
“The wheels of diplomacy turn very, very slowly, I’m afraid,” he agreed, studying her closely for a moment. “Are you so desperately unhappy here, Arkady?”
“I’m not sure I’m unhappy,” she replied with a shrug. “I’m bored, I’m homesick, I’m fed up with going out in public wearing a sheet and I’m certain I’ll never be truly cool again as long as I live, but unhappy? No, I don’t think so.”
Stellan smiled. “I’m glad to see you still have your sense of humour.”
“They haven’t actually outlawed laughter here yet, but let’s not say it too loud, dear, someone might overhear us.”
Stellan shook his head with a rueful smile. “It is a bit like that, isn’t it? But at least you have Lady Chintara for company. Even the Imperator mentioned how much his wife enjoys your visits.”
“Visits?” she asked with a raised brow. “More like royal command performances. I keep wondering what she’d do if I tell her I’ve made other plans the next time she tells me she’ll ‘see me tomorrow’ as if I had a choice in the matter.”
Stellan’s smile faded. “I thought you liked her?”
“I do,” she assured him. “She’s just a bit…imperious…at times.”
“Well, imperious or not, she obviously has her husband’s ear. I got the impression I was only permitted to visit the Imperator because Chintara suggested it.”
“Does he have a name?”
“Who?” Stellan asked, taking a sip from his wine and then replacing it on the table.
“The Imperator? That’s all you ever hear him called. Doesn’t he have real a name, like Henri or Jorge, or something?”
“Of course he does, but only his closest family are permitted to speak it.”
“So how does the population keep track?”
“Keep track of what?”
“Of who’s in charge? Do Torlenians just number the Imperators so people can tell which one it is? I mean, we have ‘King Enteny the Fourth,’ and Mathu will be ‘Mathu the Second’ when he takes the throne. What do they call their king here? Imperator Number Sixty-Four?”
Stellan smiled. “Why don’t you ask Lady Chintara?”
“I might. What’s he like anyway, Imperator Number Sixty-four?”
Stellan thought for a moment before answering. “Truly? If I had to describe him briefly, I’d say a callow boy.”
The description shocked Arkady. The last impression she would have formed from the way Chintara spoke of him was of a callow boy.
“A callow boy? Are you certain you were talking to the right Imperator?”
“Oh, yes, he was the right one. But he’s very young. Eighteen, perhaps, maybe nineteen—certainly no older than Mathu. His skin is still pimpled. He’s indecisive, insecure and struck me as being more than a little nervous, although that could be Jorgan’s fault. After our last ambassador lost his temper with him, the boy probably has reason to fear unpredictable Glaebans.”
She shook her head, unable to picture Chintara married to anyone as vacillating and unappealing as the young man Stellan described. “That doesn’t sound like the man Chintara calls her lord and master.”
“She calls her husband her ‘lord and master’?”
“What of it?”
He smiled. “Do you call me your ‘lord and master’?”
Arkady wasn’t nearly so amused as her husband. “Only when I’m forced to, Stellan, so don’t let it go to your head.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he assured her, rising to his feet. “Are you visiting with Chintara again today?”
“Oh, yes,” she told him with a sigh. “I’ve been commanded to appear for lunch.”
“Well, let me know if she says anything about the meeting, would you?” Stellan said, picking up his coat. “I’d like to meet with her husband again as soon as I can, and if you’re able to speed up the timing of our next meeting even by a few days, I’d be very grateful. You’re not the only one who’s feeling homesick.”
“Have you heard from Jaxyn?” Arkady asked, guessing that was the reason behind Stellan’s comment.
“No. He’s probably having too much fun at court to think of writing me.”
“He’s supposed to be looking after your interests at court,” she reminded her husband. “That should warrant the odd letter now and then, don’t you think?”
He shook his head, sighing. “You still don’t like him, do you? Even when he’s on another continent?”
Arkady wished she could tell Stellan why she despised his lover so vehemently. But how do you describe colour to a blind man? Stellan didn’t even believe the Tide Lords existed. There simply weren’t the words to tell him he’d been callously used by an immortal as he clawed his way up the ladder to the Glaeban throne.
And even if she could convince Stellan that Jaxyn had used him; even if she could somehow make him realise Jaxyn was an immortal and no more loved him than he loved the Crasii he’d ordered to commit suicide just to convince Arkady he could, what was the point? Her husband would never accept he might have endangered—however unwittingly—his king or the Glaeban throne.
“I think he’s…unreliable,” she conceded, unable to think of a better word.
“You were the one who convinced me to send him to court in the first place,” he said. “Now you’re claiming he can’t be trusted? What’s happened in the last few weeks to make you change your mind?”
There was no answer to that so Arkady said nothing.
Stellan waited for a moment but when she remained silent, he shook his head. The mood had changed in the last few seconds, the mere mention of Jaxyn Aranville’s name enough to set them at each other’s throats. “While we’re on the topic of lovers,” Stellan said, all trace of his former humour gone. “I don’t suppose you’re pregnant, are you?”
His question cut her to the quick, but she knew the reason he asked it. “No.”
“Pity,” he remarked. “I suppose I’ll have to write to Enteny and tell him the bad news.”
“Bad news? I thought you’d be delighted to discover I wasn’t carrying a convicted murderer’s bastard.”
Stellan hesitated before he answered, perhaps realising that he, of all people, had no claim on the
moral high ground. “I’m sorry, Arkady. It just would have been easier, that’s all, if you were with child, regardless who fathered it.”
“It would be easier if you hadn’t caused the problem by lying to the king and telling him I was pregnant.”
Stellan frowned. “As it would have been, had you not forged my signature on Kyle Lakesh’s release papers so your murderer lover could go free,” he retorted. “Let’s not get into a game of who did what, Arkady. Neither of us is on very solid ground.”
She nodded, conceding he was right, smarting nonetheless over the realisation he was still peeved with her. After she’d kept the secret of all his lovers—and specifically their gender—without complaint for so long, she felt she deserved a little more consideration.
“I wasn’t trying to pick a fight, Stellan. It’s just…”
To her astonishment, Stellan’s expression softened. He actually looked as if he sympathised with her dilemma. “I understand, Arkady. Really, I do. Do you miss him much?”
She shrugged. “More than I should. Less than I thought I would.”
“Perhaps you’re not as in love with this man as you imagined,” he suggested gently.
“I’m not sure I ever was in love with Cayal, Stellan.”
“You still refer to him as if he’s an immortal,” he noted, as if it were a curiosity, rather than a fact.
Arkady was long past trying to convince her husband of it, however. The truth would come out soon enough. Declan had pointedly assured her of that. In the meantime, it was easier not to argue about it.
“Perhaps it’s easier for me to believe he was.”
Stellan nodded with a wan smile. “Oddly, Arkady, that actually makes sense.”
A few minutes before the appointed time, Arkady was led into the consort’s chambers as usual by Nitta, who was quite pleasant these days, apparently under orders not to offend the Glaeban ambassador’s wife any more than she already had. When they reached the entrance to the main hall, however, Nitta held her arm out to block Arkady’s way.
The Gods of Amyrantha Page 11