Arkady shook her head. She couldn’t imagine Declan doing the sort of terrible things Cayal and his ilk had done. “You don’t know him, my lady. He wouldn’t deliberately hurt anyone.” She knew it was a lie, even as she said it. Tides, he’d just cut her to the quick with his callous rejection.
And Arryl was right about Declan and his role as the King’s spymaster too. He’d been frighteningly good at his job.
The immortal seemed to know Arkady was lying to herself as much anyone else. “You’re hoping he’ll only use his powers for good, aren’t you?” she said. “Tides, there is nothing more dangerous than a misguided soul thinking he’s doing good.”
“I think Declan knows enough about the immortals to understand the danger,” she said, not sure why she was defending him. It wasn’t as if he’d done anything to deserve her loyalty lately. Except perhaps saving me from death by flesh-eating ants. And healing my wounds . . . dropping everything to track me halfway across the world to find me . . . And then another thought occurred to her. Tides, what will the Cabal do when they find out?
“Declan’s got a fair idea about what it is to be immortal, my lady. And what it can do to a person.”
Arryl shook her head. “No, Arkady, he doesn’t. He hasn’t even begun to understand what’s happened to him and you’ll be long dead before he does. And the trouble is, he’s not just immortal. He’s a Tide Lord, which means he has the power to do just as much damage as any of those other fools.”
Typical, Arkady thought. Declan never does anything by halves.
“He can learn, my lady. And he has the benefit of seeing what immortality has done to others.”
“He still sees the world through mortal eyes, Arkady. Believe me, immortal vision is quite different to the way you see the world.” She picked up her mixing stick and stirred the salt into the molluscs for a moment and then she put it down and sighed. “I hate to say it, but probably the safest thing for him to do would be to find Lukys.”
“Why?”
“Lukys is the only one of us who’s ever been willing to spare the time to teach another immortal anything other than a lesson in what happens when you cross them. I don’t know if it’s because he’s generous or because he has an ulterior motive, but whatever the reason, he’s helped all of us at one time or another. He’s probably the only one who can help Declan understand what he’s become.”
“He told Cayal he’d found a way for him to die.”
Arryl shrugged. “I’m sure Cayal believes that, Arkady, but it doesn’t make it real. Lukys’s games are more sophisticated than most, but they’re still games. Declan will need to be careful.”
“Why does he need to have anything to do with any of you?”
Arryl smiled knowingly. “He won’t be able to avoid it. And I’d rather have a High Tide come and go that didn’t involve millions of deaths and humanity having to start from scratch all over again.”
For all that she was mad at him, Arryl’s insistence that Declan was likely to turn into something as dangerous as Jaxyn or Cayal was starting to wear on Arkady. She felt she had earned to the right to be mad at Declan, but the Tides help anybody else game enough to think ill of him. “You don’t know he’d do anything of the kind, my lady. He may decide not to use the Tide at all.”
Arryl laughed sceptically. “Not use the Tide? Look at yourself, woman. You should be dead and there’s not a mark on you. Declan can’t help himself. He probably swore every which way from yesterday that he’d never touch the Tide. And what happens? First time someone he loves is in danger he’s drawing on it like there’s no tomorrow.” She threw her hands up, as if Arkady’s ignorance appalled her. “He healed you almost instantly; don’t you understand that, Arkady? Even I can’t do that, and I’ve been practising for thousands of years. And I’ll bet he doesn’t have the faintest notion of how he did it, either. He just willed it to happen and there you are, all nice and shiny new again.” She picked up a large wooden disk and placed it over the top of the tub to cover it, shaking her head. “Tides, it’s the well-intentioned ones that cause the most trouble.”
She was talking from experience, Arkady suspected, not theoretically, and it intrigued her. Arryl, of all the immortals, was the one credited with having some humanity left; the kindest of a cruel race. What had she done to cause such regret in her voice, even after all this time?
“Are you talking about Cayal?” Arkady prompted. “About how he extinguished the Eternal Flame?”
Arryl looked up. “Told you about that, did he? Or his version of it, at least. But no, I’m not talking about Cayal’s rage. I speak of a classic example of how the highway to oblivion is paved with the well-meaning deeds of noble fools.”
“What happened?” Arkady asked.
Somewhat to Arkady’s amazement, the immortal told her . . .
Chapter 39
If you know how Cayal was made immortal, then you probably know what happened next. He left with Tryan to win his beloved Gabriella back. The failure of that mission, the subsequent destruction of Lakesh and indeed all of Kordana, devastated him.
We heard about the destruction of Kordana, of course. Felt it too for a time. That much smoke and ash in the atmosphere affects the whole planet, no matter how localised the source of the trouble. And we all heard about it. When he got back, Tryan couldn’t wait to tell us what they’d done.
Cayal was less anxious to brag about it. In fact, it was years before anybody in Magreth saw him again.
I wasn’t there, so I can’t tell you exactly what happened in Kordana, but I’m sure it was the first time Cayal truly appreciated the power that was his to wield and I’m certain it frightened the living daylights out of him too.
Unfortunately, it didn’t stop him wanting to do something else noble with his power. Perhaps he wanted to makes amends. But two global catastrophes don’t make the first one better. But Cayal, being Cayal, had to find that out the hard way.
I’m not sure what it is with some men, but they seem to think they were given immortality for a divine purpose; that there is some reason for their very existence beyond the ken of ordinary men. Brynden suffers the same affliction, thinking his immortality was awarded for some higher purpose. Jaxyn thinks so too, although he’s far less likely to admit it to anyone these days, least of all himself.
I felt Cayal before I saw him. He’s a powerful Tide Lord and his presence on the Tide is unmistakable. It grows with time too; the more you draw on the Tide the more you affect the Tide around you. That’s why we can’t always tell if a new immortal is going to be a Tide Lord. You have to dip your toe in the water a few times, so to speak; learn how far out you can swim before you discover how deep you can go and still return with your sanity intact.
And if you’re wondering what happens when you swim too far, ask me sometime about Kentravyon . . .
But I was speaking of Cayal. I sensed the ripples of a powerful Tide Lord in the Tide and hurried to the main hall of the temple, expecting Lukys. We were still in Magreth in those days, the Tide was up and I think, by then, Cayal was nearly three hundred years old. He didn’t look it, of course. Then—as he does now—he looked no older than the twenty-six years he was when Diala made him immortal.
“Cayal!” I exclaimed in surprise.
He turned to look at me. He was dressed like a native—in a simple patterned wrap tied around his waist—so I assumed he’d been back in Magreth for a while. I had no notion of what brought him here, but he was staring at the Eternal Flame as if it offered the answer to the meaning of life. He was starting to show the weariness of age, by then. Not physically, of course, but a certain weariness of the soul that afflicts us all, sooner or later. None of us are immune.
You can tell yourself you’re immortal until you’re breathless, but until you’ve outlived everyone you know, it doesn’t really hit you. I think that’s why Cayal had come back to Magreth. Despite knowing he was immortal, it had only just occurred to him he was going to live forever.
“Hello, Arryl.”
I stared at him, looking for some change—the Tides know why—but he seemed exactly the same as the last time I’d seen him. “Why didn’t you send word you were coming? Diala’s not here but . . .”
“But they’d like to know up at the palace that the Immortal Prince has returned?”
“They’ll learn you’re here, Cayal. Either someone will tell them or they’ll come close enough to the temple to feel you on the Tide.”
“Is Tryan here?”
“In Magreth? No, I haven’t seen him in years. I believe he’s in Fyrenne somewhere. With Elyssa.”
He was obviously relieved. “I’m glad to hear it. I’m not sure I’ve the patience to deal with Tryan at the moment. Or Elyssa.”
I smiled sympathetically. Elyssa’s fascination with Cayal is well known to all of us. “She is quite taken with you, Cayal.”
“Are you sure Tryan’s not here?” Clearly, he didn’t want to discuss Elyssa.
“Positive.”
“So who is here in Magreth, keeping the empress company?”
“Engarhod’s here, of course. Rance and Krydence come and go. So do Medwen and Lyna. Ambria’s long gone, but then she’d left before you came here the first time, I think. I haven’t seen Lukys for several years. Brynden has settled in Torlenia, I hear, with Kinta. I’m not sure what Kentravyon, Taryx or Jaxyn are up to. But Pellys is here at the moment.”
Cayal smiled. He’d always had a soft spot for Pellys. “How’s the fish population?”
“Suffering, I fear. He’ll be pleased to learn you’ve returned, though. He’s not been happy of late.”
“Immortality weighing him down?”
Cayal’s question surprised me, both for its perceptiveness and its accuracy. “I think it might be. How did you know?”
He shrugged. “Call it an educated guess. How are you holding up?”
I smiled. “Holding up? Against what?”
“I don’t know . . . life . . .”
“Is something wrong, Cayal?”
Cayal shook his head and forced a smile that didn’t fool me for a moment. “Not a thing in the world, Arryl. We’re young, we’re beautiful and we’re going to live forever. Where’s the problem in that?”
There was an edge to his voice that should have warned me he wasn’t happy. Or maybe I’d just like to imagine there was. “Are you planning to stay a while?”
“If you’ll have me.”
“I’ll always welcome you, Cayal, wherever I am. You know that.”
“Immortality’s been much kinder to you than the rest of us, Arryl,” he said, taking my hand. “Or maybe you were just a better person than the rest of us to begin with.”
I wasn’t really sure how to answer that, so I just smiled and kissed him to welcome him home. He kissed me back like a lover, which surprised me a little, although I can’t say I minded. I’ve never been in love with Cayal, but he’s hard to resist, particularly when he’s being vulnerable; and with Diala away, I didn’t have to worry about upsetting my sister.
“You came back for me?” I asked, finding myself a little breathless, I have to admit, by the unexpected intensity of his kiss.
“I came back to remind myself why I’m still alive,” he said.
I understood that in a way only another immortal can, so without another word I took his hand and then led him out of the temple and down to the terrace where Pellys was killing my goldfish.
_______
There’s something about Pellys, an innocence that belies his appearance. To look at him you’d think him a man in his thirties. Talking to him, you find yourself quickly revising that opinion. It’s like talking to a child. Even before the incident that destroyed Magreth, he wasn’t much brighter. If you know how Cayal was made immortal, then you probably think my sister a monster, but I sometimes wonder if her method wasn’t the less cruel way of being made immortal. Diala tempted and tormented the men she immortalised, but they all had a choice, even if they weren’t entirely clear on what it was they were choosing. Pellys, on the other hand, was made by accident. At least we’ve always thought he was. He survived the fire that burned down the brothel where Syrolee worked.
The Tide is both apathetic and remorseless. None of us was singled out, I fear, for our nobility of spirit.
Pellys was beside himself when he saw Cayal. He’d hung around the temple for years, on and off, waiting for Syrolee to summon him. She never did, of course. She’d chosen Engarhod the Sea Captain over Pellys the Half-witted Brothel Bouncer more than a thousand years before and nothing had happened in the meantime to change her mind. I do believe she’d have put Engarhod aside in a heartbeat if she thought Lukys might have anything to do with her. He’s a powerful Tide Lord, after all, and Syrolee loves power more than life. But Lukys, even before they became immortal, thought her a crass and irritating whore, and I’m fairly certain neither immortality nor the intervening thousands of years has done anything to change his opinion of her.
But I digress. I was talking of Pellys and how glad he was to see Cayal.
Cayal smiled when he saw the pile of fish on the ground beside the pond and how engrossed Pellys was in his game. “I hope you’re planning to restock Arryl’s fountain when you’ve killed all that lot.”
I’m not sure why, but Cayal seems to have endless patience when it comes to Pellys. Perhaps that’s why, despite some of the things he’s done, I still think essentially, he’s a decent soul, albeit a somewhat confused and, at times, exceedingly dangerous and irritating one.
Pellys looked up from his game, dropped the fish he’d just caught—back into the pond, thankfully—and rushed to embrace Cayal.
And then he burst into tears.
Cayal embraced him uncertainly as Pellys wept, looking over his shoulder at me.
I shrugged. “He’s been like this ever since he got back from Euland.”
You’ve probably not heard of Euland. It’s long gone, now. It was a small island off the northern coast of Magreth, on the other side of the equator. We had trade dealings with them, but not much else. I certainly hadn’t been there for centuries, and neither, I’m confident, had any other immortals.
Cayal disentangled himself from Pellys and studied him curiously. “What’s the matter, big fella? Nobody in Euland have any goldfish for you to play with?”
Pellys has no concept of irony or sarcasm. He just shook his head, taking Cayal’s question at face value. “They wouldn’t let me keep my wife.”
Cayal’s eyes widened. “You have a wife?”
“Not anymore. They wouldn’t let me keep her.”
He looked to me for clarification, but I knew as much as Cayal did. When Pellys had returned to the temple several months ago, after an absence of more than a century, he’d told me the same thing, but never explained what he meant.
“I always thought you were hoping Syrolee would come back to you?”
Pellys shook his head. “She looked like Syrolee.”
“You found a wife who looked like Syrolee?” Cayal repeated uncertainly. “While you were in Euland?”
“That’s right.”
“And they wouldn’t let you keep her, you say? Who is they?”
“The people what got upset.”
“Upset? What people got upset?”
“The ones who found her. She was mine, Cayal,” he sobbed, “and they wouldn’t let me keep her.”
He was having far more success than I’d had in getting the story out of Pellys. But I listened to Cayal interrogating him with a growing sense of dread. Nothing which upsets a Tide Lord—particularly one with Pellys’s power and limited understanding—could possibly be a good thing, I thought. Especially not during a High Tide.
Cayal seemed to share my concern. “Pellys, why wouldn’t they let you keep her? She wasn’t someone else’s wife, was she?”
Pellys shook his head, tears coursing freely down his face. “No. She was mine. She was so pretty. Just like Syrolee. And
I fixed it so she’d stay that way. But they took her from me.”
Tides, I thought, he tried to make her immortal.
Cayal was obviously thinking the same thing. “You set her alight?”
Pellys shook his head, sniffing loudly. “Of course not. That would have ruined her. The flames would have burned her hair and messed up her face . . . Tides, I wouldn’t do something like that.”
“Then what did you do?” Cayal said, glancing at me with growing concern.
“I filled her with spirits to preserve her.”
At first I thought he meant spirits in the ephemeral, divine sense. Cayal, however, sees the world differently to me, or perhaps he knew Pellys better than I thought. He looked at him in utter disbelief. “You tried to preserve her, Pellys? With alcohol?”
The older man nodded and wiped his nose on his bare arm. Clearly, he saw nothing wrong with the notion. “It would have worked too, if they hadn’t taken her from me.”
“Was she . . .” Cayal hesitated, a little afraid, I suspect, to put his suspicions into words. “Was she alive when you tried to replace her blood with alcohol, Pellys?”
He glared at Cayal as if he was a little bit stupid. “Well, of course she was alive. That’s what I was trying to preserve.”
I felt physically ill at the notion. Tides, he’d bled some girl to death and tried to fill her veins with alcohol. Who was this poor girl he’d taken a fancy to? And who were the people who’d taken her from him?
More importantly, what had happened to them?
Cayal must have read my mind. Or at least the horrified look on my face. “What happened when they took her from you, Pellys?” he asked gently.
“I made them go away.”
“How?”
“I don’t know . . . I just called on the Tide and made them go away.”
Tides, it sounds so trite and harmless now. I made them go away, he said.
We didn’t know it then, but that was the first hint we had of the destruction of Euland and the fate of the several thousand people who called the island their home.
He hadn’t just made them go away. Pellys had wiped Euland off the face of Amyrantha.
The Palace of Impossible Dreams Page 28