That didn’t seem to surprise her. “Pity he left his run so late.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if he was in Glaeba trying to get himself beheaded at Low Tide, he left it too late, didn’t he? The Tide is on the way back. If he still holds to his intention to end his suffering without taking the rest of us with him, he’s out of luck for the next few hundred years at least.”
“Is that how long a High Tide lasts?
“Near enough,” the immortal agreed. “This one may last longer. The Tide’s been out a very long time which may mean it will come back harder, faster and longer than it has in the past.”
Arkady filed that away for future reference and then, while Kinta was still in a garrulous mood, she asked, “What do you think Cayal will do now?”
“I’m not sure. He wants to meet with Brynden.”
Arkady hadn’t expected such an honest answer, nor had she expected Kinta to so readily confirm Cayal’s presence here in Ramahn. It was further proof of what Arkady had begun to suspect months ago, ever since she’d arrived in this city and been so inexplicably befriended by this strangely powerful, yet vulnerable woman—Kinta, the Immortal Charioteer, was glad of someone she could talk to.
But even so, given what she’d just learned about the history between Cayal and the Lord of Reckoning, it seemed a risky ambition at best.
“Did he say why he wanted to meet Brynden?”
“No, but I can guarantee he’s up to something.”
“But you’ve no idea what?”
Kinta shook her head. “I’m certain of only one thing, Arkady. If Cayal has a plan, it has something to do with his wish to end his own life, which means if he succeeds, that could signal the end for all of us.”
Chapter 34
By the time Arkady returned from the palace, Stellan’s preparations to leave Ramahn and return to Glaeba were well advanced. He’d spent the day in a daze, going through the motions of making arrangements for his absence, settling affairs that couldn’t wait, sending apologies for invitations he had no choice but to decline, all the while numb with shock over the news that had arrived this morning at breakfast. By the time he’d sent for Arkady to tell her, she’d already left for the palace.
But she was back, the servants informed him, and if ever he needed his wife’s understanding and support, it was now.
He looked up from his desk as the door opened. Arkady had already dispensed with her shroud and was wearing a simple gold gown that emphasised her height and slender grace. She looked curious rather than concerned by his summons. “There was a message waiting for me in the seraglium saying you wanted to…Tides, Stellan! What’s wrong? You look awful!”
“The king is dead.”
She looked at him blankly. Perhaps she hadn’t heard what he said.
“The King and Queen of Glaeba are dead,” he repeated, rising to his feet, his voice lacking any emotion.
“But…but…how…?”
He sympathised with her shock. He’d felt just as stunned when he’d gotten the news. “A tragic boating accident on the lake during a freak storm, according to the message I got this morning. I don’t know anything else, at this point, only that I must return to Herino immediately.”
“Is Mathu all right?”
“Yes, of course,” he replied, wondering why his wife’s first thoughts were of the crown prince and not his niece. “So is Kylia, in case you’re interested.”
“Yes…of course I’m worried about Kylia. She wasn’t hurt, was she?”
“No, thank the Tide, although it was a close call. She was missing for a time, but washed up on the lake shore a couple of hours after the storm hit. The letter I have speaks of her survival as nothing short of miraculous.”
“Oh, Stellan, I’m so sorry.” She crossed the room and came around the desk to embrace him, and for a moment he relished the contact, then he pushed her away, with the disturbing feeling she was apologising for Kylia’s survival rather than sympathising with his grief for his dead king and cousin.
“I’m leaving tonight.”
“Did you want me to start packing?”
“I haven’t the time, Arkady. I need to finish up here and get back to Herino as quickly as possible so I’ll be taking the fastest, not the most comfortable route.”
Needing no further explanation, she nodded in understanding, which is what made her such a good wife for a man in his position. “You’re next in line for the throne until Mathu produces an heir.”
He wished she sounded a little more enthusiastic about the idea. “It’s not just that, Arkady. Enteny was more than my king or my cousin. He was my friend.”
“The friend who exiled you for saving his son from embarrassment.” She moved away from him, putting the desk between them.
“This is no time for recrimination,” he said, surprised at the bitterness in her voice. There was more than just a rift between them these days, he realised, more than a little sad to have lost his easy friendship with her.
“Would you listen to me if I asked you not to go?”
Stellan stared at his wife. “Not go? How can I not go, Arkady? Why would I not return home to see my cousin laid to rest and his son crowned king?”
“Assuming Mathu is ever crowned king.”
“If you know something that suggests he might not be,” Stellan said, appalled by her suggestion, “please tell me what it is. But if this is just some sort of misguided attempt to seek revenge for our exile, then I’ll thank you to show some respect for the dead, and let me grieve for my family in peace.”
Arkady didn’t reply. Stellan had no way of telling if it was because she was feeling chastised or rebellious. Since she’d helped the murderer Kyle Lakesh escape from prison, since her return from the mountains after he abducted her, she had become a stranger to him. He no longer knew what drove her, no longer understood anything about her.
“It matters little what I know or what I believe, Stellan. You don’t believe me, that’s what counts.”
“I’ve got Dashin investigating likely places for you to stay while I’m away,” he said, deciding to change the subject. There was no answer to such an accusation, and even if he wanted to go down that path, he didn’t have the time to fight with Arkady now.
“What’s wrong with me staying here?”
“You can’t stay here, Arkady. A woman alone in a house in Ramahn is considered scandalous.”
“This is an embassy, not a house, and I’ll be sharing it with several other wives, scores of servants and a dozen high-ranking embassy officials. Not exactly how I’d define alone.”
“Be that as it may, a married woman staying here in the embassy compound while her husband is out of the country is out of the question. I suggest you select one or two slaves you wish to take with you and get them to start packing. The best option so far seems to be the Caelish embassy seraglium.”
“You’re not serious, are you?”
“Of course I’m serious. Dashin was heading there after he presented my petition to the Imperator.”
“What are you petitioning the Imperator for?”
“We live in Torlenia at his pleasure. I need his permission to leave.” When Stellan noticed the alarm on her face he added, “It’s a formality, Arkady, nothing more. Dashin will inform the Imperator’s aides of the king and queen’s death, request his leave to attend their funeral, and then he’ll advise the Caelish ambassador of this development and request asylum for you in his seraglium until I return.”
“But there are other wives here…Dashin’s staying in Ramahn, isn’t he? And his wife? Surely they are sufficient chaperones? I’m a grown woman, for pity’s sake!”
“I don’t make the rules here, Arkady. I’m just compelled to abide by them. You are an ambassador’s wife and as such, only another ambassador or higher is considered suitable as a guardian.”
“This is ridiculous.”
“I’m sorry our king and queen have perished at such an inconvenient time for yo
u, my dear.”
“That’s not what I mean, Stellan, and you know it.”
Before he could respond, there was a knock on the door, followed by Dashin Deray stepping into the office without waiting for permission to enter. He held a small packet of documents tied with a red ribbon, which he handed to Stellan, before he turned and bowed politely to Arkady.
“My condolences on your loss, your grace,” he said.
“Thank you, Dashin,” she replied in a neutral tone. “You were able to secure Stellan’s travel papers, I see.”
“Yes, your grace,” he agreed. “The officials at the royal palace were most sympathetic. They’ve even offered to order all flags in Ramahn flown at half-mast as a measure of respect for the loss of our king and queen.”
“Fancy the Torlenians willing to make such a sacrifice for us. What’s next, I wonder? A national day of mourning, perhaps?”
“Arkady…” Stellan warned, glancing up from the packet of papers Dashin had brought him, all of which seemed to be perfectly in order. “Please…”
Arkady glared at him defiantly, and proceeded to drop that subject for one even more contentious. “And what of my imprisonment, Lord Deray? Have the Caelish offered this beggar a bed, or is your next call to the Senestrans, to see if they can put me up?”
Dashin glanced at Stellan for a moment before answering. “On the contrary, your grace. I haven’t even been to the Caelish embassy. There was no need.”
“Had they already heard?” Stellan asked.
“No, your grace. I already had an invitation.”
“From whom?” Stellan and Arkady asked in unison.
“From the Imperator’s Consort,” he answered, looking at Stellan. “As soon as she got word of the accident in Glaeba and realised you were leaving Ramahn, she sent word offering Lady Desean sanctuary in the royal seraglium until your return.”
Stellan looked at Arkady, expecting some sort of reaction to this news, but she hardly seemed surprised at all.
“What did you tell her?” Arkady asked.
“That you’d be honoured to accept, of course. What else could I say?” He turned to Stellan. “I trust I did the right thing, your grace. I know I should have consulted you first, but the consort’s offer shocked me so much I couldn’t think of any logical reason why Lady Desean might refuse.”
Stellan studied Arkady for a moment. “Are you all right with this?”
Arkady nodded. “It’s a solution, I suppose. If I have to stay in Ramahn, I’d rather stay here, but that’s not likely.”
“You know it isn’t. Still this is a remarkable offer. It augurs well for Mathu’s future relationship with Torlenia.”
“And that’s all that matters, isn’t it?” Arkady seemed unimpressed. “Torlenia’s smooth relationship with Glaeba. Always the politician, aren’t you, Stellan?”
Her accusation wounded him. He certainly didn’t think he deserved such a disdainful tone. “It’s my job to watch over things like the relationship between Torlenia and Glaeba, for my new king as diligently as I did for the old.”
“Your new king may not be quite the king you had in mind,” she said.
“What are you talking about?”
She sighed. “Tides, Stellan, if only I could explain…”
“I wish you would.”
Arkady hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “Mathu’s…going to be influenced. By people who don’t necessarily have his best interests—or yours—at heart.”
“Tides, you’re not going to start…” He stopped when he realised Dashin was still in the room. “I won’t have you maligning people you don’t…agree with, just because you don’t like them, Arkady.”
His wife, also aware that they were not alone, glanced at Dashin and then shook her head. “I’m not trying to malign anyone. I’m saying that things might not be what they seem and you need to be careful of who you consider friends.”
“I know who my friends are.”
For a moment, Arkady looked as if she was going to explain her quarrelsome attitude, but apparently she thought better of it and shrugged. “Do what you have to, Stellan. Just don’t be surprised if things don’t turn out quite the way you expected.” She turned to Dashin. “Did Lady Chintara say how many attendants I would be allowed to bring with me?”
“The invitation specifies no more than one or two, your grace. Apparently everything else you need will be provided in the royal seraglium.”
“Then I will retire to our seraglium to pack. Clearly, I’m not needed here.” She turned for the door, stopping when she reached it. “Stellan?”
“Yes?”
“Will you promise one thing?”
“If I can.”
“When you get home to Glaeba, be very careful. Mathu may not be the man you think and his wife—the girl you believe is your niece—is certainly not the innocent you assume. Nor is Jaxyn Aranville the friend you believe. If you have any brains at all, you’ll trust nobody, except…” Her voice trailed off, as if any warning she delivered was useless.
“Except who?”
She shrugged. “I was going to say Declan Hawkes, but I’ve a feeling such a warning would be a waste of time.”
Her suggestion made him smile. “You think the only person I can trust in Glaeba is your good friend, the King’s Spymaster?”
Arkady didn’t share his amusement at the idea. “What I think, Stellan, is Enteny and Inala’s death was no accident. If I’m right, as second in line to the throne, you are a danger to those who have other plans for Glaeba, and they’re likely to do whatever it takes to be rid of you. Return home if you must, bury your king and queen and crown their son heir, but mark my words, the future is not what you imagine. Worse, it’s something you cannot imagine. There may even come a time when you learn your friends are really your enemies, and a man you think of as your enemy now may well prove to be your only friend.”
With that ominous warning delivered, Arkady let herself out of the office leaving Stellan and Dashin staring after her, the resounding slam of the door the only sound lingering in the uncomfortable silence that followed her departure.
Chapter 35
Lon Brandor and Tenry Crow, the bodyguards Aleki Ponting had assigned to watch over Shalimar Hawkes—and who Shalimar had sent on a wild goose chase to Caelum to be rid of them—were waiting on the appointed day in the taproom of The Lone Traveller’s Inn on the outskirts of Cycrane, just as Shalimar had said they would be. They were surprised to discover Declan had come to meet them, although not surprised to learn their mission to Caelum was a ruse. Both longstanding members of the Cabal of the Tarot, they’d worked that much out for themselves weeks ago.
They hadn’t been idle, however, and were able to bring Declan up to date regarding the gossip around Cycrane about the upcoming marriage of Princess Nyah and the handsome young duke, Tyrone, son of the formidable Grand Duchess of Torfail. The marriage, according to the rumours Tenry and Lon had heard, was eagerly awaited by everyone in Caelum with the possible exception of the bride, who had taken an unreasonable dislike to her future husband.
Queen Jilna, tolerated by the people of Caelum because she was the mother of their rightful heir, rather than a “proper” monarch, was becoming increasingly unpopular, as word spread that she might be forcing this marriage on her daughter. As Declan listened to Tenry’s summary of the goings-on in Cycrane for the past few weeks, he shook his head, wondering at the mindset of these people. They could apparently see nothing wrong with marrying off a ten-year-old child, yet they were concerned the poor child might not like the groom.
“Nobody has any idea who the Grand Duchess of Torfail and her son really are, I suppose,” Declan asked, taking a swig of foaming ale. He would have preferred to have a chance to clean up first, after his week or more wending his way through the labyrinthine tunnels of Maralyce’s mine, but Lon and Tenry had been waiting for him when he arrived.
“Nobody suspects they’re immortal, if that’s what you’re
asking,” Tenry said, after glancing around to check there was no danger of their being overheard. The older of the two, he did most of the talking. “But since it got about Princess Nyah ain’t exactly in love with Lord Tyrone, there’s plenty of people questioning who they are and where they come from.”
“And where the little princess is,” Lon added.
Declan looked at him. “What are you talking about?”
Tenry shrugged. “There’s a new rumour doing the rounds that Princess Nyah is missing.”
“Are you sure it’s only a rumour?”
“Nobody’s sure. That’s the problem,” Tenry said. “Way we heard it, there was a big to-do the other day at the palace. Some traditional function they always hold before a royal wedding. I’m not sure exactly what it was about, but I do know the little princess didn’t show up. The official story was that she wasn’t feeling well. The unofficial story is that she hates her future husband so much she’s run away.”
Declan smiled at the irony. “If it’s true, then Caelum’s ten-year-old heir might be the smartest person in the whole damned country. Have you made contact with Ricard Li yet?”
“Wasn’t aware you wanted us to. Is he even a member of the Cabal?”
Declan shook his head. “That doesn’t mean we can’t warn him the Grand Duchess of Torfail is an impostor.”
“That’s more your area of expertise than ours,” Tenry said. “In fact, Lon and me, we have a rule about trying not to run afoul of the local law.”
“Can’t blame you for that. What will you do now?”
“Depends on you, sir. If there’s nothing you want us to do here, and you don’t need us to go after the old man, we’ll head back to Hidden Valley. Always something to do there, particularly now, with the old king gone.”
“What old king?”
“Enteny,” Tenry said. “Who else would I be talking about?”
“King Enteny is dead?”
“Been dead better part of a fortnight.” The older man studied Declan with a frown. “Him and Queen Inala both. Ain’t you heard?”
The Gods of Amyrantha Page 26