The Gods of Amyrantha (4 page)

Declan glanced at Aleki and then nodded, realising what he was getting at. 'Because Kylia Debrell is ... what ... only seventeen? This immortal's been passing herself off as that age without raising any suspicions at all.' He nodded in agreement. 'All the others would be too old to get away with it.'

'If we're sure it's not Elyssa, then Medwen and Diala were the youngest when they were immortalised,' Aleki agreed, 'so you're probably right. It's likely to be one of them.'

Tilly turned to Shalimar. 'I thought you said Medwen was in Senestra?'

'And so she was,' he agreed. 'We've had an unconfirmed rumour Arryl was hiding out there, too. At least that's the last word I had from Markun.' Markun Far Jisa was one of the two missing members of the Pentangle. The fifth member's identity was so secret, even as highly placed as he was in the Cabal of the Tarot, Declan wasn't privy to his name. 'He'd have sent word by now if she'd moved on.'

'That just leaves us with the Minion Maker,' Tilly said. 'Tides, that's a depressing thought. Still, it's odd to find her in company with Jaxyn. She's not traditionally an ally of the Lord of Temperance.'

'Maybe she's
not
his ally,' Lord Deryon suggested. 'Could it be chance has brought them both to Glaeba at the same time?'

'There's no way of knowing what brought them here,' Shalimar said. 'And not much point speculating. The real question is: are they allies now?'

All eyes turned to Lord Deryon, who as the King's Private Secretary was in the best position to witness the daily movements of the crown prince's bride.

'I would have to say it's likely,' the old man confirmed. 'Her relationship with Jaxyn Aranville seems very cordial.'

'I'm curious,' Shalimar said. 'What does Mathu think of his wife's friendship with a known womaniser like Jaxyn?'

'He's probably still in the first flush of love,' Tilly said. 'Whichever immortal she is, she's had plenty of time to work on her seduction techniques. And Mathu is only young. I'm guessing he's too blinded by his

infatuation with Kylia — or whatever her name is — to think it's a problem.'

'Perhaps the first thing to do would be to draw the young man's attention to it?' the old man suggested, stretching his feet out in front of him. 'Whose idea was it to bring Jaxyn here to Herino, anyway?'

'Yours,' Declan reminded his grandfather before he could be blamed for that fiasco, too. 'You were worried about him training Lebec's Crasii army.'

'Ah, yes ... I remember that. Seems a bit ridiculous in hindsight.'

Tilly smiled faintly. 'Most disastrous decisions do. Any suggestions about how we should proceed?'

'Are we so sure chopping an immortal into little pieces and feeding him to the hounds won't get rid of him?' Declan enquired as the thunder rattled the windows once more. The lightning and thunder seemed much further apart now. Perhaps the storm was moving away.

Somewhat to his surprise, Tilly took his question seriously. 'I believe it's been tried. The immortal healed too quickly. According to the Lore the assassins never got a chance to cut the body into small enough pieces to feed it to anything.'

'Just a thought,' he said. 'Which immortal was

it?'

'The lore says it was Lyna. It happened before the Third Cataclysm, I believe. Kentravyon's wrath was something to behold when he learned of the attack on his compatriot. The death toll was horrendous.'

'It just occurred to me, Tilly,' he said, looking at the widow in a new light. 'You must have a head full of the most appalling murders. It's a wonder it doesn't drive you mad.'

'Attempted
murders,' she corrected. 'And since the Pentangle convened the first Cabal of the Tarot five thousand years ago, in the hope of finding a way to defeat the immortals, the idea that one of them might

work someday is all that keeps the Guardian of the Lore sane.'

'And this particular Guardian of the Lore's not shy about sharing the details, either,' Aleki remarked with a sour smile. 'She used to threaten me with the most dreadful fates when I was a child.'

'What makes you so sure they were only threats?' Tilly grumbled. 'I can assure you, my boy, if you and Davista don't set a date soon, so I can actually see a grandchild before I die, I'll start rifling through the Lore for the most painful way to get my point across.'

'Ah, family,' Shalimar sighed. 'Who'd be without them?'

'I've often thought it might be interesting to find out,' Aleki replied with a perfectly straight face.

Declan smiled at Aleki's dry humour, but they were getting off the point. 'What do you want me to do about Diala ... assuming it is Diala we're dealing with?'

'Confirm her identity first,' Lord Deryon suggested. 'In the meantime, I'll see if I can determine the exact nature of the relationship between her and Jaxyn. We need to know that before we decide how to proceed. Do you think I should warn the king?'

'And tell him what?' Shalimar asked. 'That his daughter-in-law is an evil immortal bent on stealing his throne? There's a conversation I'd like to sit in on.'

Karyl Deryon sighed. 'It would be so much easier if more people knew the truth about the immortals, and didn't consider them just myths.'

'You may get your wish sooner than you imagine,' Tilly predicted with a grim look. She turned to Shalimar. 'How long do we have before the Tide peaks?'

The old man shrugged. 'Predicting the moods of the Tide is an inexact science at best, Tilly. I can't tell you exactly. I'm guessing a few months at worst, a few years if we're lucky.'

'Then we don't have time to muck about.' Decisively, Tilly turned to Declan. 'Do as Karyl advises, Declan. Find out if we really do have the Sorceress living in our midst. In the meantime, I'll contact Markun Far Jisa and see if Medwen is still in Senestra.'

'I'll check with the Scards up in the Valley,' Aleki offered. 'One of them may have encountered Diala before and can identify her.'

'That reminds me,' Declan said. 'Pop's got a couple more recruits for you to take back with you when you return.'

'More Scards?' Aleki asked with interest, looking at Shalimar. 'Felines?'

The old man shook his head. 'Canines. One's quite young. A female. The other, the male, shared a cell block with the Immortal Prince.'

Aleki's eyebrows shot up in surprise. 'Well, he'll have us all entranced with his fireside tales, I don't doubt.'

'He's been very well house-trained,' Declan said. 'You'll find him useful for more than storytelling, I warrant.'

'Then I'll send word when I'm ready to leave for Summerton. I can pick them up on my way through Lebec'

'And on that note,' Lord Deryon announced, rising to his feet, 'I should take my leave. The gossips will start to talk if I spend too much longer under your roof, Lady Ponting.'

Tilly smiled. 'Ah, to be the subject of such gossip at our age, Karyl.'

'I can give you a lift back to the palace if you want,' Declan said. 'That rain's still pretty heavy by the sound of it.'

'Thank you, Declan, but I have my own carriage outside, hence the reason I fear the wagging tongues of Herino. Shall we meet again before you return to Lebec, Shalimar?'

'I'm heading back tomorrow.'

'Then I wish you well until we meet again, old friend, and trust our next meeting brings happier tidings.'

Shalimar shook his head. 'The Tide is on the turn and we've already got two immortals making themselves at home in the Glaeban palace, Karyl. I fear the days of happy tidings, not just for us, but for all of humankind, are far, far behind us.'

CHAPTER 3

'Sooner or later, we all try our hand at ruling the world.'

The barman glanced across at Cayal and nodded with practised sincerity. It was quiet in the dingy Torlenian taproom so he was probably prepared to indulge a customer, Cayal guessed, even a drunken one. The man picked up another amber glass tumbler from the dripping tray standing on the tiled countertop and began polishing it. 'That a fact?'

Cayal took another swig of the rich dark Torlenian ale, but it did nothing to take the edge off his awareness. The returning Tide ebbed and flowed around him constantly now, tantalisingly close at times, at others so far out of reach that Cayal feared it was slipping away from him forever. It tormented and enticed him, daring him to embrace it fully.

It was the returning Tide that had brought him here to Ramahn ahead of the new Glaeban ambassador.

It was the returning Tide that made him drink himself into oblivion.

At least that's what he told himself. It sounded better in his head than the other excuse ... that he'd come here in pursuit of a woman he was afraid to think about, in case he discovered a reason to live.

Despite his vow never to undertake such a sea voyage again, a berth on an oared galley proved the most expeditious way to reach Torlenia. The Tide was back sufficiently for him to ensure their ship enjoyed fair winds all the way and when the breeze faltered his

accelerated healing ability meant he no longer suffered the pain of blistered hands or burning muscles. He no longer got fatigued the way a mortal man did, either, so he rarely even caught the attention of the oar-master. The journey had taken Cayal a little over ten days — something of a record the captain claimed — and here he was in Ramahn, the capital of Torlenia, getting drunk, wondering about his own foolishness, feeling the madness creep up on him, wishing the rising Tide didn't feel so seductive and lamenting the venality of his kind.

'S'right, you know ... Even the goody-goody types who swear they'll never succumb to the lure of ultimate power. Even they've tried it, too. The hunger ... the curiosity ... it gets you in the end ... every time.' He was slurring his words and knew he sounded like a fool, but Cayal didn't care. It took a monumental quantity of alcohol to make an immortal drunk, and he was more than a little proud of himself for achieving the feat. In fact, it was a reflection of this impressive achievement that had set him thinking about many of the other things he'd accomplished in his impossibly long lifetime, and it was that which prompted his announcement about ruling the world.

'S'pose it does,' the barman agreed in a tone that was hard-pressed to disguise his lack of interest.

'Funny thing is, the more they reckon they don't want it, the worse they are when they get it.'

'Mmmm ...' the barman replied, putting the now-sparkling glass on the shelf above the bar and picking up another to polish. 'I've heard that can be the case.'

Cayal drained his glass and thrust it toward the barman. 'Kentravyon was a right little prick when he was in charge.'

The barman took the glass and refilled it from the barrel sitting to the end of the bar. 'I've no doubt he was.'

'Course ... I probably wasn't much better, truth be told.'

He handed Cayal the refilled glass. 'Of course.'

Cayal accepted the drink and smiled crookedly. 'You don't have any idea who I am, do you?'

The barman shrugged his broad shoulders. 'Not sure who you are in your own country, sir, but here in Torlenia you're just a paying customer. Least you will be when you settle up your tab.' He frowned at Cayal. 'You
will
be settling your tab soon, won't you, sir?'

'Afraid I'm not good for it?'

'You have run up quite a bill, sir.'

'Not long now, and you'll be bragging that I was drinking in your grubby little flophouse,' Cayal predicted. 'Couple of months ... a year or two from now maybe, you'll be getting rich off me.'

'I'd rather be getting rich off you now, sir, if you don't mind.'

'Do you believe in the immortals?'

The barman eyed him warily. 'Don't see how that makes that much difference to whether or not you can pay your bill, my friend. And your stalling ain't making me feel any better about your ability to come up with the cash, neither.'

'You didn't answer my question.'

He shrugged. 'I know there's them what still prays to the Tide Lords, but I ain't ever seen the point of 'em, really. I mean, it's not like they ever did anything 'sides bugger things up for the rest of us.'

'Your inn is named Cayal's Rest,' Cayal pointed out. It was the reason he'd chosen this inn to get drunk in, over the many other worthy establishments in Ramahn.

'Only 'cause them interfering sods at the palace wouldn't let me name it Cayal's a Bastard,' the barman grumbled.

That announcement amused Cayal no end. Interesting that his name had not been forgotten here. Or that it was still so universally despised. 'Perhaps you'd have been better off naming your establishment after a more worthy Tide Lord.'

'Like who?' the man asked. 'Ain't none of 'em worth spitting on.'

'Then why name your place after an immortal at all?'

'Seemed like a good idea at the time.' Cayal laughed. 'Tides, I've used that excuse myself. In fact —'

'In fact
what?'
the barman prompted when Cayal stopped mid-sentence, interested now the discussion had moved to his client's line of credit.

The Tide tickled the edge of Cayal's awareness. Splashing his ale on the counter as he slammed his glass down, he staggered to the window, staring out into the shimmering heat. The marketplace was dusty and deserted — market day wasn't until tomorrow — the midday sun having driven most of the residents of Ramahn inside until the witching hour.