And then he realised the powerful ripples he felt on the Tide couldn’t possibly come from Arryl.
Cayal pushed Arkady away and turned to confront the stranger, drawing the Tide to him, ready to strike. “Who are you?”
“His name is Declan Hawkes,” Arryl said behind him, before the stranger could answer. “And he’s here at my invitation. Settle down.” She would be feeling the power Cayal had gathered to himself, just as he could feel this strange immortal clumsily drawing on the Tide. She looked past him and glared at Hawkes. “Both of you.”
Cayal studied this new immortal warily, waiting for him to do something, wondering why his name sounded familiar. The man said nothing, just watched Cayal with the same cautious mistrust, as he gathered the Tide to himself.
“Tides, you’re the Glaeban spymaster,” Cayal said after a few tense moments when he finally recalled where he’d seen this man before.
“Cayal . . .”
Laughing bitterly at the irony, Cayal suddenly understood why she was here. He turned to Arkady, “This is the man you wanted to save me from in Glaeba? The one you feared would torture and kill me? Funny how you neglected to mention he was immortal. He certainly wasn’t the last time we met.”
“Declan’s only been recently elevated to your ranks,” Arkady told him.
Cayal had been alive a very long time and he could read most people like an open book, particularly when they were angry about something. There was an edge to Arkady’s voice that spoke of a bitterness running far deeper than mere surprise or concern at his own unexpected appearance or that this spymaster for the Glaeban king was now an immortal. Was that the reason she’d greeted him so warmly, with such uncharacteristic passion? Arkady, as a rule, was as ambivalent about her feelings for Cayal as he was about his feelings for her. The tension in the air around this isolated Outpost spoke of something far more complicated going on here. Something Cayal had a feeling had little to do with him.
Arkady’s animosity toward Hawkes concerned Cayal less, however, than the realisation that somehow this man had found a way to become immortal, which was more than a little vexing. Cayal had killed several million people making sure something like that couldn’t happen, ever again.
“How?” He didn’t direct the question to anyone in particular. He just wanted an answer.
“We don’t know,” Arryl said.
Cayal fixed his gaze on Hawkes. “You know, though, don’t you?”
“And what makes you think I’d share the knowledge with you, even if I did?”
“Stop it!” Arkady said.
“Stop what?” Cayal asked, his gaze locked with Hawkes, the Tide swelling around them. The man had little control of what he was doing, but that didn’t really matter. It was like standing next to Pellys when he was upset—he was full of raw, undirected, unfocused, and potentially dangerous power too.
“Stop snarling at each other like a couple of canines facing each other off over a bitch on heat.”
Cayal held back, although not because Arkady asked him to. Hawkes was radiating power, but clearly had no idea what to do with it. Cayal felt torn between curiosity and rage. This immortal’s very existence threatened everything he was working toward. Here he was, desperately looking for a way to die, and somehow this man had found a way to live forever.
Lukys needed to know about this.
If he doesn’t already know. The thought popped unbidden into Cayal’s mind along with another random thought: Oritha telling him why Lukys had gone to Glaeba. “Tides, Lukys,” he muttered to himself. “What have you done?”
“Cayal?” Arkady said. She heard him speak but not caught the words, he supposed.
Cayal didn’t answer her. Instead, he turned to Arryl. “How long have you known about this?”
“About a day longer than you, Cayal. What are you doing here?”
“I came to extend an invitation to you and the others.”
“On whose behalf?” Hawkes asked, bristling with animosity. “Your immortal friends in Caelum?”
Cayal turned to look at Hawkes. Tides, he’s ready to explode. “Oh, so you know about them, do you?”
“I know a great deal more than you think.”
The anger in Hawkes was evident even to those not able to draw on the Tide. Something very interesting was going on before I got here, Cayal decided.
Beneath his feet, he could feel a slight tremble in the dock. Hawkes, out of either fear or ignorance, was about to let loose a natural disaster. A part of Cayal was horrified. Not because he particularly cared about an imminent natural disaster, but mostly because the Tide was still on the way back. It would be months, perhaps years, before it peaked. It might be that inexperience hadn’t taught him subtlety yet, or the wisdom of masking the true depth of his ability, but this freshly minted Tide Lord was among the most powerful Cayal had ever encountered.
Cayal would get no answers if Hawkes let loose and dropped northern Senestra into the ocean. And there was a very real danger he might. Cayal had been where Hawkes was now—brimming with power, uncertain about what was happening to him. And absolutely no notion of what he was capable of doing.
Kordana had been wiped off the face of Amyrantha as a consequence.
“I doubt you know much of anything at all, Hawkes,” Cayal said, wondering if there was anything he could say that might head off this impending disaster. “You certainly don’t know as much as you think you do. And sure as the Tide is on the rise, you don’t know what to do with all that power you’re clinging to.” He turned to Arryl for help. Hawkes was here at her house, after all, so perhaps she had some influence over him. “Would you like to tell your little friend here what’s going to happen if he doesn’t let it go? Got a feeling he won’t believe anything I tell him.”
“Cayal’s right, Declan,” Arryl said soothingly. “You’re dangerously close to doing something truly disastrous. Relax. The people of the wetlands don’t deserve that.”
Although she’d not be able to feel him, gathering the Tide, even Arkady could feel the ground shaking. She took a step toward the spymaster. “Declan . . . please . . .”
The Tide surged around Hawkes. The channel started to foam around the dock. Far from placating him, Arkady’s appeal seemed to be having the opposite effect. She stumbled backwards as if pushed, falling into Arryl, who caught her clumsily as she struggled to maintain her footing. The amphibians who’d brought Cayal’s boat to the Outpost disappeared into the churning water with a squeal of fright.
“Declan, stop!” Arryl cried out, helping Arkady up. She clutched at Cayal’s arm. “Do something!”
Do what? was his first reaction, as the Tide welled up inside him to match the threat he could feel from the other man. He could stop Hawkes from unleashing the Tide, sure enough, but that would require him to give free rein to an equal amount of power. If they both let loose at the same time, the effect would be disastrous. Hawkes wouldn’t know that, Cayal was certain, otherwise the fool wouldn’t be trying to protect himself by drawing all the Tide he could manage to shield himself from the danger he clearly thought Cayal represented.
And then another thought occurred to Cayal. Tides, with that much power to burn, we wouldn’t need Elyssa to put an end to it all . . . With me and Lukys, a few of the lesser immortals, Pellys, Kentravyon, and the power this unexpected immortal can draw on, we’d be able to do anything . . .
Even die, perhaps.
The thought stayed Cayal’s hand.
He took a deep breath. “Let it go, Hawkes,” Cayal said, as calmly as he could manage. He let the Tide drain away, certain Hawkes would feel the gesture and hoping it would placate him. “We need to talk.”
“I have absolutely nothing to say to you, Cayal.”
“Then you can listen to me,” he said. “Now let it go.”
“You have absolutely nothing to say that I want to hear.”
“I think I have something you’d very much like to hear.”
“Cayal, ple
ase,” he heard Arkady urge softly behind him. “Don’t make this worse.”
Cayal took a step toward Hawkes. The channel churned beneath the dock. Hawkes wasn’t letting anything go.
“Just out of curiosity, what’s your father’s name?”
The question caught the Glaeban off-guard. Hawkes hesitated before answering. “Why?”
“Do you even know your father’s name?”
“He doesn’t,” Arryl answered for him. “But we think he might have been an immortal. Declan is apparently Maralyce’s great-grandson. We were trying to figure out how this might have happened. We’ve been speculating that if his father was an immortal too that would explain how he became immortal.”
Cayal’s suspicion that Lukys was somehow involved in this solidified into a certainty. “I imagine his business in Glaeba had something to do with gems,” Oritha had told Cayal months ago when he returned to fetch Lukys after he’d spoken with Brynden. “And he probably wanted to visit his son.”
“Ryda Tarek has a son in Glaeba?” he recalled asking. He’d thought the story about a son in Glaeba was just a tale Lukys had spun to keep Oritha from asking too many awkward questions about his past.
Tides, it all makes so much sense in hindsight . . .
“So you think his father was an immortal, do you?” he said to Arryl. Cayal turned back to Hawkes, who was visibly trembling with the force of the power he was trying to contain. “In that case, I most definitely have something you want to hear, old son.” He took a step closer, deciding a show of fearlessness here might be the only thing Hawkes responded to. “Now let it go before Senestra goes the way of Magreth.”
Hawkes glared at him and asked through gritted teeth, “What could you possibly have to tell me that I’d be interested in, Cayal?”
“Let’s start,” Cayal suggested, “with who your father is.”
Chapter 43
Lunch with the Lady Alysa was served in her rooms, a warm fire crackling merrily in the fireplace, giving the room a very convivial atmosphere which was at complete odds with the discussion Stellan knew would soon be going on between the diners. Warlock, the Crasii ex-convict sent here to spy for the Cabal, served the meal as if nothing was amiss.
“Your steward seems familiar,” Stellan said, as Warlock cleared the empty plates from their second course. Until now, the discussion over lunch had been quite inane. If the Immortal Maiden was trying to pump him for information about what he was really doing here in Caelum, she was either very subtle or hadn’t got around to it yet.
Elyssa smiled and nodded in agreement. “You probably saw him in Herino. He was a gift from King Mathu and Queen Kylia.”
“Then he’s probably spying for them,” Stellan said, folding his napkin as he leaned back in his seat.
“No,” Elyssa said confidently. “He’s not.”
“How can you be certain?”
“I inspire undying loyalty in all my Crasii,” she said. “None of them would ever betray me.”
Stellan looked sceptical. Or at least he hoped he did. He wasn’t supposed to know, after all, that this woman was an immortal and that her confidence in Warlock’s loyalty came from the magical compulsion on all Crasii to obey their immortal masters.
“Jaxyn Aranville will have found a way, my lady. You can be certain of it.”
She smiled. “You speak with such bitterness when you mention his name. Is that something my brother should be wary of?”
“I’m not here to push my own personal agenda, my lady. Glaeba is under threat and I believe that only an external force can deal with the problem.”
“You want Caelum to go to war for you, in other words?”
“I want you to take action against the people who kidnapped your princess and kept her prisoner for their own nefarious purposes. That those same people are, I believe, responsible for killing my king and plan to take the throne of Glaeba from its rightful heirs just means we have a common enemy.”
“And your enemy’s enemy is your friend?”
“Precisely.”
“I’ve had . . . previous dealings with Lord Jaxyn,” Elyssa said carefully. “In fact I know him quite well. Are you sure you want to confront him head on? He doesn’t play nice at all.”
“Something I’ve learned through bitter experience.”
“You were lovers, according to popular rumour.”
“Do you listen to rumours, my lady?”
“I do when they’re as juicy as this one.”
Stellan shrugged; the stories circulating about his sexual preferences the least of his problems, these days. “As you say, my lady, Jaxyn doesn’t play nice. He does what he must to get what he wants. I was foolish enough to be standing between him and his prize for a time.”
Elyssa smiled. “And now you want to stop him getting his hands on it at all?”
“The throne of Glaeba isn’t something one can take a fancy to and decide to take, just because one can, my lady.” He looked at her earnestly, as he realised the lifetime he’d spent living a lie was probably the best training he could have had for the situation he now found himself in. “I mean . . . how would you feel if some stranger came along and decided to snatch the throne from Princess Nyah?”
Elyssa, to her credit, didn’t even blink. “It would be a terrible thing.”
“Then you understand my position.”
“I do, your grace,” she agreed. “But if I understand you correctly, you’ve been advocating an immediate invasion of Glaeba. It may have escaped your notice, but the legal heir to the throne of Glaeba currently occupies it. Jaxyn hasn’t made a move on the throne and doesn’t appear to be planning one. Why invade now?”
Because the Tide isn’t all the way up yet! Stellan wanted to jump to his feet and yell at her. Because there’s still some chance we can win this war without destroying Caelum and Glaeba in the process. Because if you and your inhuman kind get involved in a land war, you might not be so keen to get involved in a magical one . . .
The reasons were endless, and not one of them could he mention aloud without betraying his new-found knowledge of the immortals.
“Because Mathu is still alive, my lady,” he said, picking the most plausible excuse. “If Caelum invades now, Glaeba must keep the incumbent king alive, because the moment Mathu dies, I am the legal successor, and your invasion force owns the moral high ground. Far from being seen as invaders, if Mathu died you’d be seen as the saviours bringing the rightful king home. Jaxyn can’t risk that happening.”
Elyssa frowned, her expression thoughtful. She was not, Stellan suspected, quite as stupid as everybody believed. But neither was she as clever as she imagined herself to be. “Let me see if I have this straight—you want us to go to war so Jaxyn can’t dispose of Mathu and take the crown?”
“I think you know, my lady, that Queen Kylia would take a new husband as soon as the mourning period is done with. I certainly don’t want Jaxyn Aranville on the throne of Glaeba when she takes a second husband. Do you?” Not that he needed her to answer the question. I know you suspect that’s what will happen, because you know Queen Kylia is Diala.
Jaxyn sitting across the border as king of a more powerful country, in cahoots with another immortal as morally bankrupt as the Minion Maker, is pretty much your worst nightmare.
The immortal studied him curiously. “Why do you care what happens to Mathu anyway? The little ingrate had you charged with murder and treason.”
“That doesn’t alter the fact that he’s the rightful King of Glaeba.”
Elyssa rolled her eyes. “The Tides preserve me from another noble man,” she muttered.
“I beg your pardon?” he said, pretending he hadn’t quite caught her words.
“Nothing. Has my brother agreed to go to war?”
“He said he would take my proposal to Queen Jilna.”
“Do you think Jaxyn’s heard that you’re here in Cycrane?”
“I’m almost certain of it.”
That see
med to amuse her. “I’ll bet he’s furious.”
Stellan allowed himself a rare, genuine smile. “I’ll bet he is too.”
“Of course, he’ll know you’re up to something. Do you think he’s already preparing for war?”
“He’d be a fool if he wasn’t,” Stellan said, “which brings me to an interesting point. You really believe Cecil is loyal to you, don’t you?”
She didn’t even glance in Warlock’s direction. “Of course.”
“Would Jaxyn be suffering under the same misconception?”
Her brows knitted together in puzzlement. “What do you mean?”
“Well, if Jaxyn sent Cecil here to spy on you, and he is now so loyal to you that you’re confident he isn’t, then aren’t you ignoring a golden opportunity to feed Jaxyn false information?”
“You mean I should let Cecil report back to him? What would be the point? He’d know any information that came from me was likely to be false.”
Stellan made a show of thinking about it for a moment and then looked up with a smile, as if he’d been struck by a brilliant idea. “What if the information came from me?”
“How?”
“Suppose . . . I don’t know . . . you didn’t trust me . . . or perhaps there’s a way to convince Jaxyn you don’t trust your brother? I’m not suggesting that you don’t, my lady, of course, but just let’s pretend for a time . . . Suppose you placed Cecil in my service? And suppose you allowed him to report back to Glaeba? Jaxyn would believe you’ve done so for reasons totally unrelated to him, and you could then instruct Cecil to feed anything you wanted back to Jaxyn. Tides, you could give him false troop numbers, inaccurate placements, incorrect dates . . .” He stopped, a little embarrassed at how he was letting his enthusiasm run away with him, and leaned back in his seat. “I’m sorry, my lady . . . it’s a silly plan. To set something up like that would take years, and it’s unlikely Jaxyn would fall for it. Forgive me. My desire to see that man brought down gets the better of me at times.”
Elyssa smiled, but her expression was thoughtful. “It’s all right, your grace. I can appreciate how much you must hunger to get even with someone who has betrayed you so heinously.”
The Palace of Impossible Dreams Page 31