Arkady took a long time to answer. Perhaps she was debating the wisdom of Tiji’s advice. She could have been trying to decide what Tiji knew or suspected about her relationship with the Immortal Prince. Assuming there was a relationship, which was really nothing more than speculation on Tiji’s part.
But then the duchess stunned Tiji with both her lack of embarrassment and her honesty. “If Cayal saw me in the seraglium, there’s a real danger he’ll come looking for me,” she said.
“How big a danger?” Tiji asked warily.
“Almost a certainty,” Arkady replied.
Tiji nodded, trying to gather her thoughts. The Crasii was stumbling about in the dark here and Arkady wasn’t reacting the way Tiji expected her to. The first thing Tiji needed to do was establish exactly what she was dealing with.
“So you and Cayal had…something going on?” she ventured.
“I slept with him, Tiji, is that what you wanted to know?”
“Well, yes, but I didn’t think…”
“What? That I’d be quite so willing to admit to it?” Arkady shrugged. “I’m not a fool, you know. If Cayal is here in Ramahn and he saw me at the palace, there’s a good chance he’ll try to contact me. You are the only ally I have in Torlenia who believes the Tide Lords exist or know what they’re capable of. It would be idiotic beyond reckoning for me to try to hide something like that from you.”
Tiji was silent for a moment, as she was forced to rethink almost every assumption she had ever made about Arkady Desean.
“Does Declan know about you and Cayal?”
“I told Declan everything I could,” the duchess answered.
The chameleon frowned. “I’ll take that as a no.”
Arkady looked uncomfortable, but not guilty. “He didn’t ask, Tiji, and I didn’t volunteer the information. My husband knows.”
“Well, that’s not a lot of help, given he doesn’t even believe the Tide Lords exist.”
A fleeting smile crossed the duchess’s face. “Declan’s not a fool either, Tiji. If he didn’t ask, I’m sure it’s because he either guessed the truth or he didn’t want to know. Either way, what Declan does or doesn’t think, right at this moment, is irrelevant. The point is, Cayal and I developed a friendship of sorts. And I’m not just talking about sleeping with him—believe it or not, that was an entirely different matter. I was talking to Cayal in prison for months before he escaped. He’s depressed, suicidal and doesn’t care much who he offends. If he’s coming here and I can use that friendship to gain information for the Cabal, then we’d be foolish not to take advantage of the situation, don’t you think?”
Tiji didn’t answer, wishing someone had thought to revoke her diplomatic status and send her home. She wasn’t ready to make a decision like this. She was a slave. She was trained to gather information, not decide what to do with it. She certainly didn’t have the authority to order a duchess to become a spy.
But Arkady was looking at her like she expected an answer.
“Perhaps we should get word to Declan…”
“Cayal could be on his way here now,” Arkady pointed out. “I really don’t think we have the time.”
“What do you think we should do?” she asked, to stall having to come up with an answer of her own.
“I think we should take advantage of whatever is at hand.”
“Like the Immortal Prince, for instance?”
“And Chintara…or Kinta, if you’d prefer to call her that. You claim she slapped him?”
Tiji nodded. “Like she really meant it, too.”
“Then perhaps that’s where we start,” the duchess announced with a determined set to her shoulders that Tiji really didn’t like the look of. “Isn’t the purpose here, after all, to gain intelligence about the Tide Lords in the hope of finding a weakness? If Kinta and Cayal are at odds, she may be willing to share what she knows about him.”
Tiji shook her head. “I don’t think so, your grace. That would mean confronting Kinta and telling her you know who she is.”
“Exactly.”
“But you don’t know what she’ll do.”
“I doubt she’ll strike me down,” the duchess replied, quite unconcerned. “I’m still the wife of the Glaeban ambassador and she’s still the Imperator’s Consort. That’s a fiction she needs to maintain until Brynden returns. And it’s not as if I’m going to burst in there and threaten to blackmail her. On the contrary, we have a great deal more in common than we first assumed.”
“Like what?” Tiji asked, not liking this plan at all. “You’ve both been dumped by the Immortal Prince?”
Surprisingly, Arkady wasn’t offended by the suggestion. “In a manner of speaking. There were extenuating circumstances, but in the strictest sense, you’re right. Cayal was happy to see us go our separate ways once I was of no further use to him. It wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest to learn he’d done the same to Kinta.”
That was something Tiji hadn’t known, only guessed. Tides, could this get any messier? Still, it suggested an interesting twist to Arkady’s relationship with the immortal. “You must hate him a lot for doing that to you.”
Somewhat to Tiji’s surprise, the duchess shook her head with a sorrowful little smile. “My life would be a lot less complicated if that were actually the case, Tiji.”
The Crasii was shocked by such an admission. “But you just said he used you and then he abandoned you. How could you still love…or ever trust again…someone who did that to you?”
Arkady studied her for a moment, and then nodded, as if she’d come to a conclusion about her companion. “You’ve never been in love, have you, Tiji?”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“If you had, you’d understand relationships are never so black and white.”
“They certainly don’t seem to be when you’re involved,” Tiji agreed, a little shocked at herself for daring to voice such an opinion aloud.
Fortunately, the Duchess of Lebec was more tolerant than the average high-born Glaeban. She smiled. “I fear you’re coming to know me far too well, Tiji. A scary thought, given the brevity of our acquaintance.”
Tiji shook her head. “I still don’t think you should just barge into the royal seraglium and accuse the Imperator’s Consort of being an immortal, your grace.”
“Is there any doubt in your mind that she isn’t?”
Reluctantly, Tiji shook her head. “None at all.”
“Then the die is cast. Before long, she’ll be announcing it to the whole world, Tiji. What do we have to lose?”
Chapter 30
It was a few days after his conversation with Maralyce before Declan made the decision to move on, but not, as he’d originally intended, to return to Herino. He was heading for Caelum, certain that was where he was needed most.
Declan had stopped pressing Shalimar to leave with him. Now that Maralyce had alerted him to his grandfather’s condition, it was clear the old man was in constant pain. The shuffling walk Declan had always attributed to advancing decrepitude, he knew now was caused by the oncoming Tide. The constant grimaces every time the old man sat down or tried to climb to his feet had a far more ominous source than simple stiffness of the joints. Knowing he was helpless to do anything to ease his grandfather’s hurts just made it that much harder to watch.
“Shouldn’t you be heading home?” Shalimar asked, as he watched Declan stuffing the supplies Maralyce had begrudgingly allowed him into his pack. The old man was sitting at Maralyce’s table, nursing a chipped cup of warm tea. He hadn’t moved since Declan started packing.
“I know what’s happening at home,” Declan said. “But I’ve no idea what’s going on in Caelum. For all I know, Jaxyn’s presence in Glaeba with Diala is part of a much grander scheme the Empress of the Five Realms has in store for us. I think I’d like to find out before I recommend any course of action to the Cabal.”
Shalimar glared at Maralyce. “Did you put him up to this?”
The immortal shrugged. “I might have mentioned that with the Cabal being run from Glaeba these days, it was far easier for others to keep an eye on what was happening there, than in other places.”
“I left Daly Bridgeman in charge,” Declan reminded his grandfather. “He was going crazy in retirement. He won’t mind if I take a bit longer to get home.” He tied the pack off and dumped it on the floor. “There’s an argument my position as the King’s Spymaster is redundant, anyway,” he added. “Given the immortals are on the loose.”
“You just can’t walk away from your responsibilities like this, Declan. I thought I taught you better than that.”
“My responsibility is to the Cabal of the Tarot, isn’t it? The whole spymaster thing has always just been a convenient front for what was really going on. Why are you worried I’ll get in trouble for neglecting my pretend job?”
“Let him go, old man,” Maralyce said, before Shalimar could answer him. “Jaxyn and Diala might be planning to move on your king, but the fate of a child hangs in the balance in Caelum. In the general scheme of things, Declan probably can’t stop what’s going to happen once the Tide has returned, but perhaps, if the Caelish are warned, they’ll not throw away the life of a child on something so futile.”
“You don’t think the Caelish deserve everything likely to happen to them?” Shalimar said, directing his question to Maralyce. “This ridiculous custom of theirs—marrying off children to secure the throne—that’s what’s going to land them in this mess you’re predicting.”
“I doubt they intended it to go this far,” Maralyce replied. “In fact, as far as I can recall, it started out as a way of protecting the heir to the throne. They have no concept of, or wish for, a regency in Caelum, so if the heir is too young to rule, the only option is to find a spouse for them who can run the show until they come of age.”
“But Caelum already has a queen,” Declan said, wondering how far in the past she was referring to. With her lifespan, she might be referring to a custom that had its start half a millennium ago. “What need to hand the reins of power to a child and an unknown or untested pretender now?”
Maralyce shook her head. “Queen Jilna was the wife of the late king, not a direct descendant herself. The throne belongs to her child and she’s only clung to it as long as she has because she’s been actively and openly searching for a husband for her daughter.”
Declan studied Maralyce with a curious frown. “You’re remarkably well informed about the goings-on in Caelum for someone who claims they have no interest in the affairs of our world.”
“An hour and a few ales at Clyden’s Inn every decade or so is enough to catch anybody up on current affairs,” Maralyce said. “You should keep someone permanently stationed in the corner of Clyden’s taproom, you know. You’d get more useful intelligence from that place in a week than half a dozen informers hanging around the streets of Lebec could stumble across in a month.”
“I’ll bear that in mind,” Declan said. He turned to Shalimar. “What do you think I should do?”
“Go home,” his grandfather replied. “But as you’re obviously not going to listen to me, my suggestion would be to make contact with the Caelish spymaster and warn him their soon-to-be king is an impostor.”
Declan wasn’t sure there was much point in that. “Do you really think that will stop them?”
“Might slow ’em down a tad,” Maralyce suggested.
“Or tip Syrolee’s hand that the Cabal is on to them?”
“It’s a risk,” Shalimar agreed. “But a fairly safe one, I think. Even if the immortals remember the Cabal of the Tarot from before the last Cataclysm, I doubt they’ll think we represent any sort of real danger to them.”
Shalimar was probably right in that. There was a reason, after all, that the Cabal went to such pains to maintain secrecy. “Then that’s what I’ll do. I’ll talk to Ricard Li when I get to Caelum and warn him of the danger. Which really just leaves getting there.” He turned to Maralyce. “Do you know the way to Caelum?”
“West,” the immortal replied unhelpfully.
“I was hoping you’d be a little more specific.”
“You want me to reveal every secret track through my mountains, do you? Just because you’re too lazy to go the long way round?”
“Time is of the essence, my lady.”
“To you, maybe, boy. It means absolutely nothing to me.”
Declan looked at his grandfather.
The old man shrugged, and took a sip of his tea. “Don’t ask me, lad. I’ve no idea how to get to Caelum from here.”
He turned back to Maralyce. “I can cut through the mine, can’t I?”
Declan waited a long time before Maralyce reluctantly nodded. “I suppose.”
“How many weeks would it cut off the trip?”
“Most of ’em.”
“What do you mean?”
“You could be on the other side of the lake in four days,” she admitted with some reluctance. “If I was in the mood to show you the way. Which I ain’t.”
Declan turned to his grandfather for help, certain there was nothing he could say that would influence the immortal.
“You could give him a map,” Shalimar suggested.
“He’d be hopelessly lost within a day.”
“At least you’d be rid of me,” Declan pointed out.
At that suggestion, her eyes lit up. “Promise?”
“Promise what?” Declan asked with a smile. “To be gone or to be hopelessly lost within a day?”
The immortal shrugged. “Don’t much care, one way or the other, just so long as you’re out from underfoot.”
“Give me the map, my lady, and you’ll not hear from me again. For a good long while,” he added as an afterthought.
Maralyce shook her head. “Tides, you’re as bad as he is.”
“Who?”
“I think she means me,” Shalimar said. He smiled fondly at the cranky immortal. “Thank you, Maralyce.”
“Don’t thank me, you foolish old man,” she complained, turning to take down several sheets of paper and an ink pot from the shelf by the door. “He’ll get himself killed, sure as I’m immortal, and I ain’t going looking for him to give him a decent burial just to make you happy, neither.”
Several hours later, his pack on his back, a lantern in one hand and Maralyce’s precious map in the other, Declan turned to his hostess, studying her curiously in the cool, late afternoon sun. He’d already said goodbye to his grandfather in the cabin. Shalimar didn’t come to see him off, having decided the wind was too cold for his tired old bones. It had been a brusque and entirely uncomfortable farewell.
Although neither of them was willing to admit it, they’d both known it was likely he’d never see his grandfather again.
“How far has the Tide come in, anyway?” he asked, forcing the notion of Shalimar’s impending death from his mind. He couldn’t afford to dwell on that now. And hard as it was for Declan to accept the fact, in the care of Maralyce the old man was probably in the best place he could be to face the onslaught of the rising Tide.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean how much power do you…or to be more specific, do the other Tide Lords have by now?”
Maralyce hesitated and then she turned and waved her arm. Across the yard, a pile of loose shingles stacked beside the lean-to began to scatter and tumble across the muddy yard as if being tossed by the breeze.
Declan watched the demonstration with interest. “Ah, the old falling shingles trick. I’ll be on the lookout for that one.”
“Don’t get smart with me, boy,” Maralyce said.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not sure I get the point of your demonstration.”
“Tide magic is elemental, Declan,” she explained. “That’s what we do. It’s all we can do. The extent to which we control the elements varies, according to individual talent and our willingness to master what we do. That makes Lukys the most dangerous of us all,
because that’s pretty much all he does—look for ways to hone his skill. The only other immortal who was ever his student for long enough to be anywhere near as dangerous is Cayal. The rest of them think they know it all, so they tend to be a great deal more ham-fisted when it comes to settling their disputes.”
“It’s not lack of power that causes the Cataclysms,” Declan said. “Is that what you’re saying? It’s a lack of finesse?”
She nodded. “That’s one way of looking at it.”
“So what do I have to fear?”
To Declan’s surprise, Maralyce answered him without hesitation. “Syrolee, more than most, is the one to watch out for. She’s not even as powerful as Engarhod, and she certainly wields nowhere near the power Elyssa or Tryan can summon when they’re in the mood. But she rules the roost, make no mistake about it. Whether through fear, emotional manipulation or just outright sneakiness, Syrolee is the empress of that family, sure as she used to be Empress of the Five Realms.”
“But what can she actually do?”
“Not much, when it comes to the Tide. Tryan and Elyssa, though…by now they’ll be able to affect the weather, manipulate water, air, earth and even fire to some degree. We could rustle up a fairly short, localised storm at a pinch, but it’s a bit early for any of us to be able to cause the sort of calamitous weather Cayal is famous for.” When she noticed his expression, she frowned. “Don’t glare at me like I’m trying to dodge the question. It’s really not an easy thing to answer. We all have different areas that interest us; all have different reasons to have mastered what we know. I can tunnel through a mountain with a wave of my hand, but I could never have caused the storm that flooded Glaeba and gave rise to your Great Lakes.”
“So the short answer,” Declan concluded, adjusting his pack to a more comfortable position, “is that you really don’t know what the others are capable of.”
The immortal thought on that for a moment and then nodded. “Pretty much.”
“You’ve been a great help, my lady.”
She glared at him. “Don’t get snippy at me, boy. I’ve done more for you and your kind than any of the others of my kind, and all out of the goodness of my heart, and for no other reason. A bit of gratitude wouldn’t go astray, you know.”
The Gods of Amyrantha Page 23