The Gods of Amyrantha

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The Gods of Amyrantha Page 22

by Jennifer Fallon


  Oh, Tides! she gasped silently. It’s the Immortal Prince.

  Chapter 28

  The rhythmic thunk, thunk of the axe as Declan chopped firewood for Maralyce was a soothing sound. He’d been at it for most of the afternoon, the mindless task giving him a chance to marshal his thoughts, time to put together everything he’d been told, these past few days, and more importantly, everything he hadn’t been told. There was an impressive stack of wood piled up under the eaves of Maralyce’s small cabin, and Declan was sweating with the exertion despite the cool afternoon.

  With a powerful blow, Declan split yet another log, bending down to pick up one of the halves so he could split it into quarters. He placed it on the block, but when he straightened, it was to find Maralyce standing before him. In her hand she held a cup of water, which she offered to him without a word.

  Declan hesitated and then accepted the water, guessing this was Maralyce’s idea of a peace offering.

  “You’ve done quite a lot,” she said, glancing at the woodpile.

  He shrugged, and drank the water down. It was cool and tasted faintly stale, but he welcomed the drink. Swinging an axe was thirsty work. “You said you wanted wood chopped.”

  “Didn’t think you’d be quite so willing to do it, though.” Maralyce took the empty cup from him but made no move to leave. Declan waited, leaning on the axe, wondering if she had something else to say.

  “Your grandfather seems very fond of you,” she said, just as the silence was starting to become uncomfortable.

  “And I’m fond of him. You seem surprised by that.”

  “Nothing surprises me any longer.”

  He smiled. “Then you’re one up on me, my lady, because I’m still getting over the shock of finding out you and Shalimar are old pals. Not entirely certain I ever will get over it, for that matter.”

  That seemed to amuse the immortal. “You remind me of him when he was younger.”

  “Is that a good thing?”

  “Depends on the mood I’m in,” she said, with a thin-lipped smile. “Will you be leaving soon?”

  “You’re kicking me out?” he asked, not really surprised. What surprised him was that she had allowed him to stay this long.

  “There are other places you need to be, lad,” she said. “Other immortals you should be worrying about.”

  Declan leaned the axe against the block. “You’ve got me plenty worried all on your own.”

  “That may be so, but what worries you about me is what I’ve done in the past, not what I’m planning to do in the future.”

  Much as he didn’t want to admit it, the immortal was right. “Don’t suppose you know which immortals I ought to be worrying about?”

  “Right now? If I were you, I’d be heading for Caelum to find out what Syrolee and her lot are up to.”

  “Jaxyn and Diala have taken up residence in the Glaeban Royal Palace,” he said. “I work for the king. I’m supposed to be looking out for Glaeba’s interests.”

  “You work for the Cabal, boy,” she pointed out. “Your responsibilities to Glaeba come a poor second to that.”

  “I’m not sure King Enteny would agree.”

  “I wasn’t suggesting you ask his opinion.”

  “Are you the fifth member of the Pentangle?”

  His question seemed to amuse her. “Why do you think that?”

  “Because whoever it is, they’ve gone to a great deal of trouble to conceal their identity. I could never understand why. If the fifth member was an immortal—someone like you, for instance—that would explain a lot.”

  “I gave your wretched little secret society a hand once,” Maralyce said, shaking her head. “I’ve no interest in running it. Still,” she added thoughtfully, “you could have the right of it.”

  “You mean the fifth member of the Pentangle really is an immortal?”

  She shrugged. “I have no idea. But I wouldn’t put it past a few of my brethren to get involved. It’d tickle the fancy of more than one Tide Lord to think they were aiding the humans of Amyrantha in their futile quest to see an end to them. It was that sort of thinking that had Lukys joining the Holy Warriors, you know. There’s even one or two who probably think what you’re trying to do is a good idea.”

  Not sure of the reaction he’d get, Declan hesitated before asking, “Like the Immortal Prince, for instance?”

  Maralyce smiled. “I suppose you heard he was here recently?”

  “How do you think Shalimar found you?”

  She sighed. “Poor Cayal. He’d do just about anything if it meant dying.”

  “He really is suicidal then?”

  “Has been for more than a thousand years,” Maralyce confirmed with a nod. “It comes and goes, mind you. Cayal gets distracted easily, especially if the distraction is pretty and female, but it’s only temporary. Sooner or later, the weight of eternity starts to bear down on him again and all he wants to do is find a way to end the pain.”

  “Was he distracted while he was here this time,” Declan asked as casually as he could manage, “by something pretty and female?”

  “With your duchess?” Maralyce asked. She shrugged. “I’m not really sure. I suppose he was.”

  “But you’re not certain?”

  “Well, they didn’t act like your average pair of lovers, if that’s what you’re asking, but then your little duchess is hardly average, is she?”

  “No, Arkady is anything but average,” Declan agreed, wishing Maralyce’s vague answer could have been a little more reassuring. “It’s too much to hope he’s still buried in the bottom of your mine somewhere, I suppose?”

  Maralyce laughed. “Cayal? Of course he’s not here. He cleared that cave-in months ago. Probably by the time Jaxyn and your precious little duchess were back in Lebec.”

  Declan had feared as much. “Do you know where he is now?”

  She shook her head. “Haven’t a clue.”

  “Will he go looking for Arkady, do you think?”

  “He might. I really can’t tell you. He didn’t exactly fill me in on his plans for the next millennium, you know.” She studied him for a moment with an all-too-knowing look. “Ah! I see. Another fool who’s a little bit fonder of the lovely duchess than he should be, eh?”

  Declan bristled at her implication. “I was just asking…”

  “Of course you were,” she agreed. Then she laughed again. “That girl really knows how to attract trouble, doesn’t she? Good thing her husband’s such an understanding soul.”

  “Did she tell you that?”

  “She told me more than she probably intended,” Maralyce said. “But that really wasn’t much. She’s very good at keeping secrets, your duchess. Lies like a trouper, too.”

  “What was she lying about?” He was curious as to what Arkady might have said that would prompt such an observation.

  “Everything, far as I could tell. Not that a practised liar would bother Cayal all that much. He’d probably find it attractive, come to think of it.”

  Tiji’s assertion that Cayal and Arkady had developed something much deeper than friendship was starting to feel horribly real. “So there was something going on between them?”

  “What would you like me to say?”

  Declan stared at her, puzzled by the question. “What?”

  “Well, this is obviously bothering you, lad. You keep harping on about it. What would you like me to say? Do you want me to tell you nothing happened between your lovely duchess and the good-looking and very-charismatic-when-he-wants-to-be Immortal Prince, so you can feel better? Or do you want me to tell you they were at it like a pair of rutting rabbits the whole time they were here so you can work yourself up into a right old jealous rage?”

  Declan gazed at her for a moment and then shook his head. “You know, I think you’d really like to see me in a right old jealous rage, wouldn’t you?”

  She grinned. “The wood you’d have to chop to work it off did cross my mind.”

  Declan
picked up the axe. “I appreciate the thought, my lady, but I don’t mind chopping your wood for you, so even if you could provoke me into a jealous rage, I don’t need one to keep me going.”

  Maralyce’s smile faded. “What’s it going to take to get you going, then?” she asked. “You’re getting a mite too comfortable around here, if you ask me.”

  He shrugged, hefting the axe over his shoulder. “Soon as Shalimar is ready to go, we’ll leave.”

  “You’re assuming Shalimar intends to leave with you?”

  “Of course I am. He’s free to go, isn’t he?” To emphasise his point, Declan swung the axe, splitting the halved log into quarters.

  Maralyce, although she was standing only inches from the block, didn’t flinch.

  “Maybe he doesn’t want to leave.”

  Declan picked up the other half of the log and placed it on the block. “He told you that, did he?”

  “Did you bother to ask him? Or are you just assuming that what you want is the most important thing in the world, so your grandfather will have to go along with it?”

  “I’m not the only one with responsibilities to the Cabal,” he said, splitting the half-log with a powerful blow. “A moment ago you were telling me off for ignoring them.”

  Maralyce nodded as he bent down to pick up the pieces, stacking them on the pile before retrieving another log to split.

  “Aye…and with good cause,” she said. “The rise of the Tide, and the immortals it brings with it, is never an easy time, for us or for humanity in general. But you’re young, Declan, you’re strong, you’re healthy and—most importantly—you’ve shown no symptoms, so far, of being affected by the Tide.”

  He studied her closely for a moment, before asking, “Why would I? I’m three generations removed from Shalimar’s immortal ancestor.”

  “Your immortal ancestor too, you know, lad, much as I’m sure it pains you to acknowledge the fact.”

  “Do you know who it is—this mysterious immortal ancestor of ours?”

  “Fact is, the Tide’s on the way back and your grandfather can feel it,” she said, ignoring his question. “Worse, it’s causing him real pain, and it’s only going to get worse as the Tide returns. You shouldn’t be thinking about taking him away from here, lad. You should be thinking about making the time he has left as comfortable as possible.”

  Declan stared at her in shock. “Are you telling me he’s dying?”

  “I’m telling you the Tide is killing him,” she corrected with grim certainty. “It’s why he came here. To see if I could help.”

  “Can you?”

  She shook her head. “Talk to Cayal, sometime, about the futility of an immortal trying to help a gifted Tidewatcher, if you want to know how helpless I am to do anything for your grandfather.”

  Declan frowned, remembering the tale Arkady had related to him when she returned from the mountains. The story Cayal had told her. “You’re referring to the story he told Arkady? About the little girl, Fliss, and how the Great Lakes were formed?”

  “It’s not a story, Declan. Even ignoring the rather noble slant Cayal puts on his own involvement, it really happened. The tragedy is, Shalimar’s near as powerful as Fliss was and the only thing that’s saved him from being ravaged by the Tide until now is that it’s been out.”

  “That’s absurd! You’re saying Shalimar can wield the Tide?”

  “What I’m saying, Declan, is that he’s not going to live long enough to find out. Fliss was a healthy child. Even with the Tide at its peak, it took the better part of seven years to kill her and she may have lasted quite a few more, before it destroyed her completely, if she hadn’t tried to immolate herself. Shalimar, on the other hand, is an old man. I doubt he has the strength to fight the effects for anywhere near that long.”

  “Does he know?”

  She nodded. “He’s known for a long time.”

  Declan glared at her, wishing he could be certain she was lying. Deep down, he felt she wasn’t. All his life, Shalimar had been able to sense the Tide—even when it was still far out of a Tide Lord’s sensory range. Declan still remembered the headaches that incapacitated his grandfather for days at a time. It was one of the reasons he’d spent so much of his childhood roaming the Lebec slums on his own, looking for mischief. That was how he’d met Arkady. She’d caught him breaking into her father’s surgery looking for something to ease his grandfather’s pain.

  But of late, the old man had said nothing about being in pain. He’d never mentioned any headaches. With a stab of guilt, Declan realised he’d seen Shalimar so rarely since leaving Lebec, he wouldn’t have known about them, anyway. His public falling out with his grandfather—staged mostly for the benefit of the residents of the Lebec slums to protect Shalimar from those who feared what Declan’s appointment as the King’s Spymaster might mean to them—had effectively cut him off from anything but the most casual contact with his only living relative. He cursed himself roundly for not guessing the truth.

  Tides, even Arkady nagged me about it, without even knowing why the old man was unwell.

  “Why didn’t he say something to me?” he asked, as if somehow the immortal had the answer.

  Of course, she didn’t. Declan knew that, even before she replied, “You’ll have to ask him, although I’d rather you didn’t, given he extracted a solemn vow from me not to tell you any of this.”

  Declan sighed. “Can you do anything for him?”

  Maralyce looked uncertain. “Ease the pain a little, I suppose. But I can’t fight the inevitable, any more than he can.”

  “How long does he have?”

  “Until the Tide peaks, is my guess. That could be a few months; it might be a few years.”

  Declan’s sense of helplessness was almost overwhelming. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Let him die with hope,” Maralyce said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean you need to do something, Declan. I don’t know what, and I’ve no idea how, but you need to find what the Cabal has been seeking for the past few thousand years. Your grandfather will die by the time the Tide peaks, my lad, make no mistake about it. If you want him to die happy,” she shocked him by saying, “find a way to put an end to the Tide Lords.”

  Chapter 29

  Arkady Desean was pacing the floor of the seraglium like a caged cat when Tiji returned to the Glaeban embassy. At the sound of the door opening, she looked up, sagging with relief when she spied the little Crasii.

  “Tides! You’re safe!”

  Tiji was genuinely touched. She’d not expected the duchess to care about her fate one way or the other.

  “I told you, your grace, I’m pretty good at what I do.”

  “Please, sit down,” Arkady urged. “You must be exhausted. I know I am.”

  Tiji smiled, not at the offer of a seat so much as the idea she was tired. Arkady Desean might well be drained by the stress of their intrigue, but that was simply a mark of how unprepared she was for this kind of life. Tiji wasn’t feeling exhausted. Just the opposite. She was quite exhilarated.

  “Can I get you anything?” the duchess asked, as Tiji took the offered seat.

  She shook her head. “Truly, your grace, I’m fine.”

  “Did you learn what we needed to know…I tried to look for you, but…”

  “I know you did, your grace, I was there.”

  “Is Chintara…is she who we think she is?”

  Tiji nodded. “She most certainly is, your grace.”

  Arkady didn’t look surprised. “But you can only tell she’s immortal, can’t you? How do we confirm which immortal?”

  Tiji hesitated. This could get a little awkward if she handled it the wrong way. “I was able to establish that too, before I left,” she admitted.

  The duchess seemed impressed. “You were? How did you manage that?”

  “I waited around to see who her other visitor was.”

  “Yes, I saw a woman waiting for admittance to
the reception hall when I was getting into the carriage,” she confirmed. “She was shrouded so I couldn’t see her face. Who was she?”

  “Had you donned your own shroud by then, my lady?”

  Arkady shook her head. “I waited until I got into the carriage. Every moment I don’t have to spend wearing that wretched thing is a blessing.”

  Tiji wasn’t so sure blessing was the right description. “That could prove a bit of a problem, your grace. If you were seen.”

  “Seen by whom?”

  “Chintara’s visitor was shrouded like a woman,” she informed the duchess carefully. “But that was just to get himself through the gates of the seraglium.”

  “The visitor was a man, then,” Arkady concluded with an admirable lack of histrionics. “Was it Brynden?”

  Tiji shook her head. Here goes nothing…“It was the Immortal Prince, your grace.”

  Arkady hesitated for only a fraction of a second and if Tiji hadn’t been looking for it, she may have missed it altogether. “What did he want?”

  “I’m really not sure. He spent a lot of time asking about Brynden. You know, where he was, the mood he was in…”

  “You learned where Brynden is hiding?”

  “No,” Tiji said, shaking her head. “Kinta wouldn’t answer anything but the most banal of his questions. I got the feeling they didn’t part friends the last time. In fact, she slapped his face before she even said hello.”

  That made Arkady smile, although whether it was the idea of someone slapping Cayal, or because it confirmed the rift between the Immortal Prince and his former lover, Tiji had no way of telling. “Did you learn where Cayal is hiding? Where he’s staying in Ramahn?”

  “Why, your grace?” the little Crasii asked, before she could stop herself. “Are you planning to visit him?”

  Arkady’s smile vanished, along with her friendly demeanour. “I beg your pardon?”

  You’ve done it now, Slinky. “I just meant, your grace, that given our lack of resources, knowing the exact location of the Immortal Prince probably wouldn’t be of any use to us, right now. It’s enough to be able to warn the Cabal he’s here in Torlenia, don’t you think?”

 

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