The Palace of Impossible Dreams

by Jennifer Fallon

  Arkady looked at her askance. “So . . . what are you saying . . . love conquers everything?”

  “Of course it doesn’t!” the immortal scoffed, taking the needle from her sleeve to resume her sewing. “Love causes no end of grief. It causes more pain than war, and more wars than religion. We’d all get along much better without it, I’m sure.”

  “What are you suggesting I do, then?”

  Ambria fixed her attention on her sewing. “I’m trying very hard not to suggest anything,” she said. “I’ve no wish to be responsible for you. Or what you do. But I will tell you this. Cayal desperately wants to die and he believes your friend Hawkes can help him. He won’t let anything stand in the way of that, particularly not a woman.”

  “Are you saying he’d harm me?”

  Ambria laughed. “Harm you? Tides, woman, he murdered a couple of million people putting out a fire. Have you no concept of what they’re capable of?”

  She shook her head in denial. “Declan would never do anything like that.”

  “Nor did Cayal set out to drain the Great Inland Sea. This is not about good or evil, Arkady, it’s about misguided intentions. If you stay, one of those boys is going to do something stupid. I’m fairly certain you know that. You just want me to tell you that you’re wrong.”

  Ambria wasn’t wrong, however. Arkady knew that.

  If she stayed, deal or no deal, her presence would become a bone of contention between two immortals capable of breaking the world in half with their rage.

  Even if she could forgive Declan, even if she could find it in her heart to understand what had driven him to make such a dreadful bargain with her life, she didn’t want to be responsible for that sort of destruction. Worse, she didn’t want Declan to be responsible for doing something like that.

  Arkady would die eventually. Her remorse would end with her death.

  Declan was immortal now. Any regrets he had would follow him into eternity.

  “Do you think the amphibians would take me back to Port Traeker?”

  “They might,” Ambria said, her tone giving nothing away. “If you ask them nicely.”

  Arkady rose to her feet, wondering how she could get a message to the amphibians. There must be some way to call them, she supposed. They always seemed to know when they were needed. “Then I’ll be out from underfoot as soon as I can arrange it.”

  “As you wish.”

  “Will you give Declan a message for me?”

  “Of course.”

  “Tell him I said not to follow me.”

  “Think that’ll stop him?”

  “I don’t know,” Arkady said, her way clear for the first time in months. “I only know I can’t remain here and be responsible for what might happen between Cayal and Declan if I stay.”

  Chapter 65

  The weather grew increasingly cooler as winter progressed. A bitter chill permeated the air and people remarked on its severity. Snow blanketed the streets of Herino and for the first time in living memory the Lower Oran began to freeze.

  Jaxyn watched it happen, cursing the time it was taking. The Tide wasn’t up far enough for him to do much more than give winter a helping hand, and he couldn’t sustain it for long. Jaxyn knew the peril of holding on to the Tide too long, just as he knew the consequences of messing with the weather too much. He wanted a cold winter, cold enough to freeze the Great Lakes, but not so that it messed everything up. That would mean he’d spend the next High Tide sheltering from the century’s worth of violent storms he’d unleashed on Amyrantha with his impatience.

  He needed to coax winter along, not force it.

  It was painstakingly slow work. Every night, when the rest of Herino slept, Jaxyn would stand on the balcony of his room in the palace, looking out over the darkened city and the lake beyond, and plunge into the Tide. With his senses stretched as far as they could go, he would feel out the atmosphere. He would reach up into the clouds, give the air a push, seek out differences in the air pressure somewhere else and carefully nudge them in the right direction.

  The result of all this delicate and careful manipulation of the Tide was the coldest winter Glaeba—and Caelum for that matter—had ever experienced.

  And a frozen lake. One that should soon be solid enough to march an army across.

  He stamped his foot on the ice, pleased to feel the solid, unyielding surface beneath his feet.

  “Another few weeks and we’ll be able to walk all the way to Cycrane.”

  “Your grace?”

  Jaxyn hadn’t realised he’d spoken the thought aloud. He glanced over his shoulder at the feline bodyguard who’d spoken. Her name was Chikita, and although she acted like a loyal Crasii, there was a spark of intelligence in her eyes that made him wonder, sometimes, if there wasn’t a bit of Scard in her too. Still, from the moment she’d fought that snow bear in Lebec and been won by Stellan for his kennels, she’d passed every test Jaxyn had set for her, and if she was a Scard, she’d slip up sooner or later. They all did in the end.

  “How long do you think it would take to walk an army across the lake?” he asked the little ginger feline. “Assuming it was frozen solid?”

  “That would depend on the army’s footwear, I suspect, your grace. At the very least, at a walk, it would take the better part of two days, but barefoot, a feline’s feet would be frostbitten long before they arrived on the other side.”

  Jaxyn frowned, concerned at both the point she raised and that she had the wit to raise it. “Can you skate?”

  “You mean like human children do? When they’re playing on the ice?”

  He nodded. The Crasii thought about it for a moment and then shrugged. “I’ve never tried, your grace, but I suppose it’s really just a matter of balance.”

  Jaxyn turned to study the ice thoughtfully, wishing he had a sizable human army rather than a feline one. Humans, at least, could wear boots for protection against the cold and have some chance at arriving at their destination in a fit state to fight. He would have the Tide’s own job getting the felines to wear anything on their feet and still be able to fight effectively, even with his ability to order them to die at his command. And logistically, where was he going to get the cobblers to knock up a few thousand specially designed feline ice boots on short notice, anyway?

  Still, the thought gave him a small measure of comfort. If he was having trouble figuring out how to get his army across the frozen lake, they’d be having the same problems in Caelum. Assuming the thought of attacking across the ice had even occurred to those unimaginative fools.

  He turned and glanced at Chikita, wondering if her comment about the frostbite had been prompted by the fact that he’d had her standing out here on the ice for the better part of an hour. Her feet must be numb by now.

  “If the felines wrapped their feet in rags, would that be sufficient protection, do you think, to get them across?”

  “Skin or fur would be better, my lord.”

  Jaxyn nodded, thinking she had the right of it. He looked around the frozen Lower Oran and smiled, pleased with his work. Although it wasn’t yet frozen solid, it wouldn’t be long now before one could walk from Glaeba to Caelum in a straight line.

  And nobody—not the mortals of this country, nor the immortals trying to seize power across the lake—had any idea it was his doing.

  That was the beauty of something so subtle. After a time, it took on a life of its own. The whole continent was now trapped in the coldest weather it had ever experienced, and he hadn’t touched the Tide for days.

  He smiled, pleased with the way his plans were progressing. “I think, Chikita, there’s going to be rather a lot of recrimination and blame shifting in Cycrane a few weeks from now. Right before we storm the palace, I suspect. And not for a minute will those fools in Caelum realise I am the cause of their downfall.”

  The feline smiled in open admiration. “You mean this ice is your doing, my lord?”

  He nodded. It was stupid, bragging about it to a
feline, but Chikita was Crasii. Who was she going to tell? Besides, Jaxyn felt he deserved at least a pat on the back for thinking up something so fiendishly clever. Diala was too stupid to appreciate the subtlety of what he’d achieved, even if she’d been the sort to award him any credit for their victory, in the first place.

  Chikita dropped to her knees, awestruck by his power. “You truly are a god, my lord.”

  Jaxyn looked down at her and smiled. “I know.”

  When he returned to the palace, Jaxyn dismissed Chikita and sent her back to the kennels, a little irritated by her fawning appreciation of his god-like powers. If he had any doubt she was a Crasii, her mindless, blubbering appreciation quashed the last of his suspicions. The feline was visibly limping by then too, her feet frozen and possibly frostbitten. Which was rather useful, actually, because now Jaxyn had a pretty good idea of how long a feline could last on the ice before it began to incapacitate them.

  Armed with that useful knowledge, and with his bodyguard disposed of, he headed for the Council Chamber, where at this time of day, with his queen by his side, King Mathu of Glaeba would be taking care of the business of state his wife and his Private Secretary deemed it safe for him to handle.

  When Jaxyn arrived, Mathu was dealing with a dispute between the Duke of Blayken and his neighbour, the Duke of Callendale, regarding a border dispute involving access to a well that both men believed was vital to the survival of their duchy. The dukes themselves weren’t here, of course, just their advocates, and Mathu wore the pained look of a man desperate to escape a nightmare. He looked up with relief when Jaxyn opened the door, and then jumped to his feet.

  “Is there a problem, Lord Aranville?” he asked hopefully as Jaxyn stepped into the chamber. “I can deal with these gentlemen another time, if you need me for something urgent.”

  “I’m afraid I do require your urgent attention, your majesty,” he said, glancing at Diala who was sitting at Mathu’s right hand, doing little to help him. She enjoyed seeing him struggle to rule his kingdom and would offer to help only insofar as it suited her to do so. Given how mind-numbingly boring this border dispute between Blayken and Callendale was proving to be, Jaxyn guessed she’d offered her poor husband no help at all.

  Mathu smiled apologetically at the two men. “You’ll have to excuse me, gentlemen. Perhaps we can take this up again next week?”

  The ducal envoys looked displeased, but were in no position to argue about it. They gathered their papers, bowed a little impatiently, and left the room, leaving Jaxyn alone with the King and Queen of Glaeba.

  “Tides, you’re a sight for sore eyes, Jaxyn,” Mathu said, flopping back into his seat. He was wearing gloves and a scarf over his fur coat. “I was about to die of terminal boredom.”

  Even here inside the palace, with a blazing fire going in the fireplace, the large Council Chamber was freezing. Diala, of course, wasn’t bothered by the cold in the least, and wore a very fetching gown that set off her blue eyes and displayed an alarming amount of cleavage.

  Jaxyn smiled. “Glad to be of service, your majesty.”

  “So what do you want, Jaxyn?” Diala asked, leaning back in her throne. “Are the Caelish sailing across the Lower Oran in battle formation?”

  Bitch.

  “No, your majesty. Nobody is sailing anything across the Lower Oran. Nor are they likely to. It’s all but frozen solid.”

  Mathu smiled. “Well, that puts paid to any Caelish invasion to avenge their wretched kidnapped princess, doesn’t it?”

  “It’s also an opportunity we’d be a fool to ignore, your majesty.”

  Mathu frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, Mat, that we can’t sail across, but we can march.”

  The king’s eyes widened in surprise. “You mean march our army across the lake to Caelum? Can we do that?”

  Even Diala seemed surprised. “I suppose. How do we know the ice can carry an army’s weight?”

  “It will,” Jaxyn assured her. “Trust me.”

  Mathu was shaking his head. “But that’s . . . it’s . . . well, it’s inspired! Tides, I can’t believe nobody’s thought of doing it before now.”

  “The Lower Oran hasn’t frozen in living memory,” Jaxyn pointed out. “But I’m assuming I have your permission to make the necessary arrangements?”

  Mathu hesitated to give the order. “It means we’ll be the aggressors.”

  “Caelum has all but declared war on us now, Mathu. They’ve certainly made their intentions known. And they’ve refused to return Stellan Desean to us, even though they know he’s a criminal and a traitor. I think we’ll still command the moral high ground, as well as the tactical one, even if we strike pre-emptively.”

  “Then of course you have my permission. Tides, it’s brilliant, when you think of it. Their fleet is ice bound. They’ll be sitting across the lake, fretting about the weather, while we’re marching across a force twice the size we could manage to sail across. And four times the size of anything they can throw at us.”

  So you’re not a complete tactical moron, Jaxyn concluded silently. “You have the right of it, your majesty.” He bowed respectfully. “And with your permission, I’ll begin to make the necessary arrangements.”

  “Do we have the forces to make this work?”

  “If I call up the armies of every duchy in Glaeba, we’ll be sitting in Cycrane, deciding where best to display Stellan Desean’s head, no more than a month from now.”

  “Provided the Caelish don’t get wind of what we’re up to,” Diala said.

  Jaxyn shrugged. “Even if someone sent them a message today, detailing our plans, they don’t have the resources to defeat us. They never have.”

  “I was thinking more about them finding some other way to subvert our strategy?”

  She was asking if Tryan or Elyssa could do anything with the Tide to thwart them. Jaxyn shook his head. “They won’t have time.”

  Diala frowned, not entirely convinced. “But if there was some sort of freak . . . storm?”

  “It would only serve to aid us, not them.”

  Oblivious to the true meaning of their conversation, Mathu smiled. “Tides, it’s not often one can stage an invasion confident the weather is on their side, is it?”

  “Glaeba is truly blessed,” Jaxyn agreed.

  “Have you found an assassin yet?”

  “I’m still working on that, your majesty,” he said.

  “Let’s not,” Mathu said with uncharacteristic bitterness. “Let us defeat Caelum and then make Desean face me. On his knees.”

  Diala smiled. “I like that plan.”

  You would, you vindictive little bitch.

  “It shall be as you command, sire,” Jaxyn promised, and then he turned and left the Council Chamber, his thoughts not on Stellan Desean, but on where he was going to get enough skins to protect the feet of his feline army as they crossed the ice into Caelum.

  Chapter 66

  Dressed as a free woman, Arkady found the streets of Port Traeker a much less daunting affair than they had been when she was dressed as a slave. Men bowed to her and stepped aside to let her pass. Doors were held open for her, lesser beings pushed aside so she could be served first. She wasn’t dressed as a duchess, she wore only the simple shift Arryl had loaned her at the Outpost, but she was free and that meant she was a real person again, not a chattel to be bought and sold.

  Or traded.

  But even a free woman needed to eat. Arkady had no money, no papers, the wrong colour eyes and an accent that immediately branded her as a foreigner. She did, however, have a small sack of polished nacre beads. Ambria had given them to her with a gruff goodbye and the assurance that she would be able to sell them in the gem markets when she reached Port Traeker. It wasn’t much, and even Ambria wasn’t sure how much a ticket on a ship sailing out of Senestra was worth, but it was better than the only other way a destitute woman had of earning money.

  Arkady was done with trading her body for
the necessities of life.

  The problem she had now, of course, was that it was dark, the gem markets wouldn’t open until tomorrow morning, and she needed shelter. She didn’t want to try trading one of the beads for a room, for fear it would alert the ever watchful thieves of Port Traeker to the fact that she carried something valuable. So her options were to risk sleeping in the streets or try the only other place she could think of where she might find a sympathetic reception and a bed for the night, dangerous though it was to try.

  Arkady had left the Outpost the same day as Arryl and Medwen, Cayal and Declan, Azquil, Tiji and Tenika. Plenty of time for her to reach Port Traeker. Plenty of time for her to find a way out of Senestra. Plenty of time to lose herself somewhere no immortal, even with magical powers, could find her.

  Izzy and Lenor, the two amphibians who’d rescued Tenika from the Delta Settlement, offered to take her to Port Traeker. Having made her position quite clear, Ambria made no attempt to stop her leaving, although Arkady did try to convince Jojo to come with her. But the feline Crasii refused, preferring to stay at the Outpost and wait for the others to come back. She had found immortals to serve. She wasn’t willingly going to leave them, unless one of them commanded her.

  Other than their discussion in the kitchen, and her uncomfortable offer of the beads, Ambria said little about her decision to leave. Arkady was fairly sure the immortal would be glad to see the back of such a troublemaker.

  The trip to Port Traeker was uneventful, leaving Arkady the time to wonder if she was doing the right thing. A part of her ached to be with Declan again, but the sense of betrayal she still felt was overwhelming. To discover that immortality had made Declan as venal as the rest of his Tide Lord brethren was heartbreaking. She’d trusted him; thought he wanted her because he loved her, not because he needed a convenient outlet for his lust after working the Tide. His turnabout made sense now. One minute he’d rejected her because he thought she was acting like a whore. The next he’d forgiven her, promising to put the past behind them.

  After he worked the Tide. After he discovered what it did to him.