“It’s been a long time, Violet Queen. You don’t look any different than when I last saw you.”
She smiled. “Neither do you.”
“Are you here with Calenus?”
Her eyes lowered. “No, I’m not.”
Yesam stared, saying nothing. There were questions in his eyes that he wouldn’t dare ask.
“I’m here to see Pheros.”
“I figured as much. I hope everything is well with the Violet Queen?”
Every time he called her that, she flinched. She never corrected him, though. I assumed he was on a need-to-know basis. Like everyone else.
“Everything is fine.”
Yesam looked me up and down. More questions turned in his eyes. “I’d escort you myself but I have other matters to attend. Please, go right on in.” He nodded toward the guard on the left. “Send word to our King that the Violet Queen has requested his presence.”
The guard bowed and marched off.
Yesam nodded to both of us, and then continued on his way, disappearing into the crowded market.
Leid and I moved through the gate.
“You should have told me you knew the Reaver King,” I muttered.
Leid’s stoicism was unfaltering. “And why is that?”
“We could have let those Sheken bastards send us off with them. We probably would have saved ourselves hours by hitching a ride on those bird-lizard things.”
“You weren’t exactly up for a discussion at the time.”
“How long are you planning on rubbing that in?”
“Forever.”
Past the gate was a courtyard of fountains, gardens of thorny white flowers and half-naked women tending to massive groups of young children. Stone statues of warriors and idols framed the pathway we traversed.
The guards at the palace entrance had already been given word of our arrival. They moved out of the way, bowing as we passed.
And then things got ugly.
The first room beyond the entrance was decorated by prison cells. Iron bars framed the walls, and behind them were people. Some were Sheken, most were something else, all wearing rags and shackles. Their scrawny bodies were malnourished and withered, huddled in groups, trembling with malady and fear.
A few noticed I was standing there and approached the bars, reaching for my coat, begging me to help them. I was close enough to smell their stench, and recoiled.
Leid tugged gently on my arm. “Come on, let’s go.”
“What the fuck is this?” I whispered.
“There isn’t any time,” she said, but she looked just as disgusted as me. “We can’t do anything for them.” She pulled my arm again and I followed reluctantly, ignoring the cattle’s desperate pleas at my back.
Our trek through the palace ended when we reached an open circular room. The floor was covered in blue carpet, the walls decorated in scripture. At the center of the room was a statue of an Iyze woman; naked from the waist up, legs draped in thin strips of fabric. She was knelt, reaching for me.
“Her name is Civen,” said a deep, smooth voice.
I searched for its source. There was a man standing in the doorway—if I could even call him a man. He had dark eyes coated with a silver sheen, skin so pale that his veins were visible beneath; blue, thin lips that almost appeared painted on. He looked like he’d died months ago.
“Civen is our goddess; a queen from old. She brought us prosperity when we had nothing,” he continued, not at all unsettled by my horrified gaze. He looked at Leid. “Violet Queen; it hasn’t been long enough, I’m afraid.”
“Pheros D’Ilgua; the feeling’s mutual,” she said.
“Charming as always, I see. What do you want?”
“A letter of passage through the Deadlands.”
Pheros frowned. “What for?”
Leid smiled. “Sight-seeing.”
“Elusive as usual.”
Pheros moved to a chest against the wall, retrieving a piece of parchment and a writing instrument. He laid the sheet on the podium next to Civen’s statue. He was about to start writing but his hand paused, hovering over the paper. “No, really; why are you going to the Deadlands?”
“Why do you care?”
“Tell me or I won’t write it.”
“The letter is a courtesy to you. That way I won’t have to kill your militia.”
From the conversation so far, I couldn’t tell whether they were longtime friends or foes.
Pheros sighed, beginning to write. “Calenus found out about the statue, then?”
Leid didn’t answer him.
“Such a shame,” he said, “having to drag that heavy thing all the way to Terabicz for you. All for nothing.”
Still, Leid said nothing.
He finished writing, holding out the sheet. Leid stepped forward, snatching it.
“I hope you kept my name out of this,” he added.
“Calenus doesn’t know.”
He tilted his head. “Then why are you here to destroy it?”
“Who said I was going to destroy it?”
“Why else would you be here?”
Leid smiled. “The less you know, the better. Believe me.”
“I’ll have to sit this one out. I’m in poor health, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“I’ve noticed, and I don’t need you to go.” She turned, motioning for me to follow. “Thank you for the letter.”
Just as we were about to leave, we heard, “Wait, Leid.”
Leid stopped; so did I.
“Why don’t you have dinner with me? The Deadlands is harsh territory. There won’t be anything for you or your guardian to replenish with.”
Leid hesitated, seeming to consider that.
My eyes narrowed. No, I don’t want to stay here.
Alezair, he’s right. There’s nothing after this place.
“Funny,” she said aloud, “it almost sounds like you want my company.”
Pheros smirked. “I’ll admit I’m eager to catch up. It seems like quite a bit has changed.” He gestured to the door. “Come, my servants are preparing the evening meal as we speak.”
He disappeared into the hall, and Leid moved to follow him. Before she crossed the threshold, I grabbed her arm. She paused, glancing back.
“Two hours ago you broke my nose for being a murderer. Now you’re about to have dinner with one.”
“He’s not a murderer,” she said, pulling away. “He doesn’t kill for fun, or for thrill. The Iyze kill to survive. It’s their nature.”
“And what if my nature was to kill people? Would all be forgiven then?”
Leid shrank back, staring. “It is.”
My anger turned to confusion, and she fled into the hall before I could reply.
XVIII
OF PRIORI AND TELOS
“LET ME GET THIS STRAIGHT; you’re contracted on a warring world to act as law enforcement?”
Leid picked at her plate. “That’s one way of looking at it.”
“Vel’Haru as law enforcement? Oh, the irony.”
I eyed the Reaver King, wondering what that had meant. His statement almost made me ask, but I kept my mouth shut. I hadn’t said anything since we sat at the table. Hadn’t touched my food, either.
“I thought one of the contract clauses was that scholars could never physically involve themselves in conflicts?”
“True, but I’m not a scholar anymore.”
Pheros fell silent, surprised.
“My contract with The Atrium has removed me from the Court of Enigmus, indefinitely.”
His eyes gleamed with intrigue. “Exiled?”
“Sort of.”
“Sort of meaning that Calenus didn’t let you leave so easily.”
“I’m no one’s pet, Pheros.”
That marked the third time I’d heard that guy’s name in the past few weeks. At first I’d brushed it off, but was beginning to suspect a few things. Namely that Leid and Calenus used to be an item. It probably ended bad
ly, too. Any time someone mentioned him her eyes lit up in flames.
The Reaver King glanced at me. “You haven’t touched your food. Is there something wrong?”
“Depends,” I muttered, pointing at the meat with my fork. “Was this one of those creatures locked up in your prison?”
“Alezair,” Leid warned.
Pheros smiled. “We don’t eat them. We harvest their energy.”
“Oh, I’ll sleep easy, then.”
“Alezair.”
I looked away while the Iyze King continued to stare at me, his expression a mixture of humor and intrigue. “Your guardian doesn’t like me very much, Leid.”
“You take a little getting used to.”
A wry smile. “He certainly reminds me of someone.”
Leid said nothing, sipping her wine. I finally gave in and tried some as well.
Wow, that was the best wine I’d ever had. Sweet yet tart, potent yet smooth, the taste slid over my tongue and down my throat like ambrosia. I stared at my glass like it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. But at the same time, it made me angry. Hard to hate someone who had such excellent booze.
On that note, alcohol seemed to be a Multiversal constant. Every world I’d been to or learned about had its own form of alcohol. Different ingredients, different methods of preparation, but alcohol all the same.
It was kind of funny—the first thing that any intelligent species did when they no longer had to spend every waking moment of their lives looking for food and reproducing was fuck themselves up. And this led to another conclusion: reality sucked, no matter what you were. Might as well endure it in a drunken haze.
I was starving so I tried the food. Five minutes later, my plate was clean.
Pheros glanced toward his servants as they entered the room. “It’s time for kama. Leid, will you join me this time?”
“No, thank you.”
His attention shifted to me. “Would you like to?”
I lifted a brow. “Like to what?”
“Kama?”
I stared, uncertain. I really hoped it wasn’t what it sounded like. The servants knelt in front of Pheros, removing a two-foot long pipe from a huge velvet satchel.
…Oh, a hookah. Right on.
“Kama is a ritual we perform every evening. It’s our form of meditation,” the King explained. “It’s quite relaxing.”
I looked at Leid. “Do you care?”
“Just be back before I’m done with my food.”
“Well,” I said, wiping my mouth with a napkin and getting to my feet, “if your drugs are as good as your wine, then count me in.”
Pheros grinned, nodding to the balcony beyond a veil of scarlet curtains. “Please, this way.”
***
The air had cooled since I’d been outside. Still warm, but no longer scorching. The sky was washed with orange, churning an evening breeze.
I had the end of the pipe between my lips while Pheros stood two feet away, lighting it. The black tar-looking substance bubbled and hissed; smoke filled the glass tube. I sucked, inhaling. And then I doubled over on the stone bench, coughing my lungs out.
Pheros laughed. “Careful.”
Before I could reply, my entire body hummed. My lungs were tight, my thoughts were wrapped in a velvety haze, and I spent thirty seconds staring at the city below us. In sum, this was the best high I’d ever felt. “Holy shit.”
“Holy what?” asked Pheros.
“Nothing.”
Whatever kama was, it magnified my senses tenfold. I could hear laughter from children across the gate and merchants bartering blocks away. The light, airy breeze roared like a freight train. Invisible feathers drifted across my skin, making me shiver.
As Pheros inhaled, my eyes rose to the sky. Then, they widened.
A miniature helicopter flew over us, landing somewhere in the west end of the city. I sat there stupefied, trying to determine whether or not that had just happened.
“Transporters,” Pheros said, stifling a cough.
“What?”
“They carry resources to and from Alatonia.”
Atlas Arcantia was a world of Mesopotamian civilizations with flying machines, and cowboy lizards that used solar energy. Riveting.
For a while the two of us just sat there in a drugged fugue, lost in our own thoughts as we admired the evening sky.
“Our world is truly something, isn’t it?” Pheros said, near whisper. “So many gems beneath its ugly surface; or even atop its surface if you look hard enough.”
“Not for long,” I said under my breath.
Despite my discretion, the King had heard me. “Yes, I know.”
I gave him a sidelong glance. “Do you?”
He nodded solemnly. “I’ve stopped feeding. I never used to look this horrible. The end is coming and I don’t want to see it.”
“Jumping ship?”
“In a way, yes. I’ve lived a long, long time. Longer than most. My advisor will be taking over for me until the end of days.”
My eyes drifted over the grotesque features of his face. “Is that what happens when Reavers don’t… feed?”
“Yes. We sustain our own life by taking the energy of others. Though we still need to eat and drink, without their essence we wither and die like plants without sunlight.”
I looked away. Pheros watched me.
“You find us repulsive,” he said.
“No,” I said. “I’m just trying to understand how you can live with yourself, knowing what you are.”
“Oh?”
“All your prosperity is fueled by the suffering of others.”
Pheros smiled sadly. “Show me a world where that isn’t the case.”
“Not like this.”
“Just like this. Prosperity and suffering go hand in hand. You can’t have one without the other; it’s the implicit curse of intelligence.”
I didn’t respond.
“There is only so much of something in the world, Alezair. Gaining it on one end means losing it on the other.”
I couldn’t think of a counterargument, so I sat there picking at my nails.
“Likewise, we never decided on our biological makeup. This is what we have to do to survive. It’s our nature. The meat you ate at dinner is practically the same thing. It came from something that was once alive.”
“Yeah, well hopefully it didn’t come from something capable of reaching for my coat and begging for its life.”
“The intelligence is what bothers you?”
I shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
Pheros smiled. “So you see intelligent beings as entities more important than lesser animals?”
This guy was making an excellent argument, and it was pissing me off. I couldn’t really hate him; he was right. The universal biological directive was to survive. That said, I could only hate him about as much as I could hate mosquitos or tapeworms.
“You remind me of her.”
“Who?” I asked.
“Who else?”
I glanced through the curtain; Leid was still picking at her plate. At this rate we’d be leaving for the Deadlands in the middle of the night. “I don’t see how.”
“Perhaps not now, but back then. When I first met her she was an unruly, opinionated guardian like you.”
Leid being unruly? I could hardly imagine th—
Wait a second. “What did you just say?”
“…I’m sorry?”
“You just said Leid was a guardian.”
“She used to be. That was how I met her; she was Aipocinus’ first guardian. He brought her here whenever he’d visit.”
“Aipocinus?”
“Her noble.”
Okay, now I was really fucking confused again. I thought guardians were turned Vel’Haru? Guardians couldn’t make other guardians; that was what Adrial told me. Nobles were true born. But if Leid was a guardian first, how had she become a noble? I was getting a headache.
“Where�
�s her noble now?”
“Dead, just like the rest of his line. Or at least that’s what Calenus told me when he’d visited last.”
Alright, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Who’s Calenus?”
He blinked. “You don’t know Calenus Karim?”
I shook my head.
“He’s the Exodian King. Before that he was an engineer for the Court of Enigmus. Aipocinus contracted him to me twice. He’s the one that composed the design for our transporters.”
He sounded like an important guy.
“How come you don’t know any of this?”
“Leid doesn’t talk about Exo’daius,” I muttered. “We’re practically forbidden to even say the word.”
“Ah, yes,” he sighed. “Her life hasn’t been an easy one. I can understand.”
“What do you mean?”
He winced. “I fear I’ve already said too much, and it isn’t my place to say any more.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but Leid emerged from the curtain, suspicion in her eyes. We fell silent, acting like nothing had happened.
At first I thought she’d heard us, but then she said, “It’s time to leave, Alezair.”
“Thanks for the kama,” I said, smiling smally. I slipped into the dining room without another word.
“Thank you for the meal,” I heard Leid say to Pheros on the way out.
“Be careful out there, Violet Queen,” he replied.
This would be the last time Leid would ever see Pheros, or Atlas Arcantia. It was kind of sad.
***
The Deadlands, as cliché as it sounded, was named accordingly. Pheros and Leid weren’t exaggerating; there was nothing out here. I was expecting another desert, instead I got dead, black ground spanning for miles and miles. No life, not even wind. It was so quiet that we could hear our own breath.
It never got completely dark in Collea or Alatonia, but here it was darker than black. The sky was a haze of red stars. The air was thin, the atmosphere in steady decay.
We trekked through the wasteland for hours upon hours. I walked behind Leid, staring at the back of her head.
There was so much she hadn’t told me. Back in Purgatory I hadn’t really cared, but things were starting to get interesting. Familiar, almost. The whole time Pheros was telling me about Exo’daius and its hierarchy, I’d had a serious case of deja-vu.
The Antithesis- The Complete Pentalogy Page 17