The Gods of Amyrantha (51 page)

'Because even if he
was
involved, the only place she could have been taken on such short notice is Glaeba.'

'He doesn't have the authority to order the Queen's Spymaster to do anything until after the wedding,' Elyssa added, apparently finding the idea quite entertaining. 'That's the real reason he came here himself.'

Tryan glared at his sister. 'Shut up, Lyssa.'

'Why? Jaxyn's not stupid. He'll have worked that much out for himself already. Where's Diala?' She addressed the question to Jaxyn, ignoring her brother.

'Oh, you wouldn't have heard, would you? Diala's moved up in the world. She's our crown princess — and very soon to be crowned Queen of Glaeba — Kylia.'

'That Stevanian slut is married to Prince Mathu?' Tryan asked. 'I thought he married some cousin of his.'

'He's King Mathu now. And yes, he married the former Duke of Lebec's niece, who is cousin to the king.' The Tide Lord spread his hands and smiled. 'You know how it works, Try. The niece goes away to school for a while, and when she comes home everyone remarks on how much she's grown and how much she's changed .... She meets a prince, they fall in love ...'

'Tides, we should have tried Glaeba first,' Elyssa said, downing her wine in a gulp and then holding it out for a refill.

Warlock hurried to comply with her unspoken order, afraid to do anything that might anger his

masters and see him excluded from this most fascinating meeting. He wasn't sure at what point his stomach overcame the nausea and he stopped being afraid. Perhaps it was listening to these powerful beings squabble like petulant children. Despite listening to Cayal's tales, he'd never witnessed these people when they were alone with each other, just being themselves. It was possible nobody who could look at them objectively ever had. Certainly no human alive and probably precious few Crasii had seen anything like it and it was proving an enlightening experience. Until that moment, it had never really sunk in that Tide Lords were just ordinary humans endowed with a gift they were not equipped to deal with, rather than magical beings deserving of awe.

Tryan shook his head as Warlock stepped back from filling Elyssa's wine. 'There would have been no point coming here, Lyssa. Glaeba's heir is a nineteen-year-old boy. Taking Glaeba's throne required the skills of a shameless trollop, not a prince.'

'You do your sister a vast injustice, Tryan,' Jaxyn scolded. 'I'm sure Elyssa could trollop shamelessly with the best of them if the occasion called for it. And since when have you been a prince?'

'My mother is Empress of the Five Realms.'

Jaxyn was unimpressed. 'You could check with Cayal — being a real prince, he'd know for certain — but I suspect self-appointed titles don't actually make you royal.'

Before Tryan could answer that, Elyssa was leaning forward in her chair. 'You've seen Cayal?'

Jaxyn studied her for a moment and then, with a heavy sigh he shook his head and addressed her brother. 'Tides, she's not
still
nursing a crush on that suicidal loser, is she?'

'I don't have a crush on him,' Elyssa objected, even as Tryan nodded in agreement to Jaxyn. 'I just like to know where everyone is, that's all.'

'Well, if you're looking for him, precious, go ask Maralyce. Last I saw of the Immortal bloody Prince, he was trying to dig himself out from under the mountain I'd just dropped on him.'

'So Cayal's out of the picture?' Tryan asked, sitting a little straighter.

'For a while,' Jaxyn agreed. 'You owe me one, Tryan.'

'We'll see. In the meantime, I want my fiancee back.'

'Never fear, Hawkes is on the job. I've already told him to drop everything else until she's either found, or we have proof she's not here.'

'That's very thoughtful of you, Jaxyn.'

'You don't rock my boat, Tryan, and I won't capsize yours.' Jaxyn rose to his feet and smiled at his guests as if he was nothing more than a gracious host welcoming two honoured visitors to Glaeba. 'And now, if you will excuse me, I'm going to visit our future queen and suggest she control herself at dinner this evening. Wouldn't do at all for our new queen to start throwing things at the Caelish delegation when she realises who you are, would it?'

'You just tell that pretentious little whore to keep her mouth shut,' Tryan suggested, rising to his feet. 'And we'll all get along just fine.'

'I'll be sure to give her your regards,' Jaxyn said. 'And I'm sure she'll see reason. After all, once we find your little princess for you, we're going to be neighbours, aren't we?'

CHAPTER 51

Cayal watched the temple caravan snaking toward the Tarascan Oasis from the rocky outcrop surrounding the tented settlement on three sides. Between the bubbling springs here and the protective wall of rocks, the oasis was a natural resting place for travellers crossing the vast arid inland of Torlenia, and the closest thing to a real town anywhere in the Great Inland Desert.

The caravan approaching the oasis was relatively small, no more than twenty or thirty camels, and only half that carrying passengers. The rest were pack animals carrying water, food, shelter and tent poles. Knowing Brynden's love of austerity, the caravan guides would have provided their passengers with only the bare essentials, Cayal suspected. These were acolytes on their way to follow the Way of the Tide, after all. Nobody made that journey unless they were ready to eschew all worldly comforts.

Which was much of the reason Cayal decided to go on ahead of the caravan, rather than join it. He was nowhere near ready to eschew all worldly comforts. Nor did he need a caravan to guide him. Cayal knew where Brynden's abbey was. He'd been there any number of times in the past.

But on those occasions, he'd been invited. Even welcome. Approaching Brynden's lair this time was rather more problematic.

A problem he considered himself close to solving as the caravan drew nearer and he spied two shrouded

females riding toward the end of the line. Although he could tell nothing of their identities, given how anxious Kinta was to patch things up with Brynden — something his own arrival might well jeopardise — it seemed logical she would come to Brynden herself to warn him.

After all, who else could she trust to deliver the news that the Immortal Prince was in the vicinity?

Even if it isn't Kinta,
Cayal reasoned, as he watched the caravan wending its way between the dunes toward the Tarascan Oasis,
those two females
are
headed for Brynden.
Cayal had a much better history getting what he wanted out of women than he did out of men.

He watched the caravan for a while longer, letting the late afternoon sun burn down on him as he soaked up the rising Tide. It was about a third of the way back, he estimated, closing his eyes for a moment to relish the sensation. At this rate, he had a year, maybe a little longer, before it peaked.

In that time he had to convince several other Tide Lords to help him.

And then it would be over.

It was after dark before Cayal approached the camp set up by the Temple cameleers. This journey was a regular monthly occurrence for them. They had established their encampment with practised efficiency, and then left their passengers to their meals as they went off to attend their camels, refill the caravan's depleted waterskins, and catch up with their friends from the other outfits camped at the oasis, of which there were, in Cayal's estimation, at least another four caravans.

There was a tavern tent close to the centre of the settlement, where the cameleers would drink themselves into oblivion the first night they spent in Tarascan. It was a tradition almost as old as the oasis.

The excessive drinking was limited to the first night, however, because one needed the next day to recover and the day after that to be certain there was no more alcohol left in one's body to dehydrate it once they hit the open desert.

So he had a day or two, he estimated, while the cameleers rested their camels, their passengers, and their sore heads, before they headed out again.

Cayal doubted that was enough time to convince Kinta to help him. It certainly wasn't enough time to convince a complete stranger to act as his emissary. But right now, he didn't have much choice if he wanted to approach Brynden without starting a minor war. So Cayal waited until he spied the small shrouded female from the caravan slip away furtively (probably off to find herself a cameleer for the night) before he glanced around to be certain he was alone, and then headed for the women's tent.

He lifted the flap and looked around. As he'd suspected, the tent was plain and unadorned with anything but the most rudimentary pallets for sleeping, laid out either side of the wooden centre pole, which held two flickering candles in small brackets attached at head height, where a thin band of polished metal served to protect the pole from the flames as well as reflect the light. The tent proved to be empty, but for another dark-haired servant kneeling over the luggage in the corner. She was unshrouded — not unexpected in the privacy of a sleeping tent — and had her back to him.

'Where is your mistress?' he asked in Torlenian, certain he'd only seen two women in the caravan. This dark-haired one — so obviously dressed as a slave — seemed to be the taller one. The one he'd hoped was Kinta.

The slave refused to answer him, remaining on her knees with her face turned away. She'd heard him speak. He saw her back stiffen in alarm at the sound of his voice, but she seemed reluctant to face him.

He was in no mood for some slave-girl's prudish Torlenian sensibilities.
Damn Brynden and his wretched shroud laws. Silly cow probably hasn't let a man look at her since she was twelve.
In three strides, he was across the tent. He caught the girl by the arm and pulled her to her feet. She didn't protest. But she did keep her face averted until it was obvious nothing would save her from his unwelcome gaze.

Then she squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye.

As if she was too hot to touch, he let her go, too dumbstruck to speak. 'Hello, Cayal.'
'Arkady?'

'You remember me, then?'

Her cool reception was almost as surprising as her unexpected presence here in the oasis. 'What ... what are
you
doing here?'

'I could ask you the same thing.'

She was calm and much less surprised to see him than he was to see her. Cayal drank in the sight of her, a part of him rejoicing in the idea he'd found her again, another part of him wanting to flee, aware this woman was a real danger to his plans. Cayal desperately wanted to die. He didn't want or need the distraction of a woman who — with very little effort — might provide him with a reason to live.

'But I thought... where's Lady Chintara?'

'Back in Ramahn.' Arkady sounded puzzled and then she seemed to realise what he was getting at and nodded in understanding. 'I see ... you thought the other woman travelling with us was Kinta, didn't you. You're mistaken, I fear. She sent me on this journey, but I'm travelling with a Glaeban diplomat, not your immortal companion.'

'And you're dressed as her servant,' Cayal noted with a frown. 'What happened?'

She shrugged philosophically. 'The House of Lebec

has suffered something of a downturn in its fortunes since we last met.'

Cayal took half a step closer, torn with conflicting emotions. He wanted to take her in his arms. He wanted to breathe in the essence of her. Run his fingers through her hair. Run his hands over every part of her body. He wanted to devour her.

Almost as much as he wanted to flee this place and never lay eyes on her again ...

He contained his tormented desires with an effort. 'I hope your change of fortunes wasn't my fault,' he said, searching her face for some sign that she was even half as rattled by this unexpected encounter as he was.

Arkady shook her head, sparing him a sad little smile, which made him realise that for her, the meeting wasn't quite as unexpected as it had been for him. 'If it's any indication of how far the great House of Desean has fallen, my part in your escape and our subsequent ... adventures ... are the least of my problems.'

'Jaxyn's responsible for this, isn't he?' he said. While the downfall of her family was something to be concerned about, he was relieved, in a way, that being stranded in the Great Inland Desert posing as a servant to a Glaeban diplomat was the worst that had befallen her. He'd seen the look on Jaxyn's face in Maralyce's mine when they spoke of Arkady. The man was capable of much worse than this.

'Jaxyn
and
Diala, I suspect.'

He wasn't expecting that. 'Diala? What's that nasty little slut got to do with you being here in the deserts of Torlenia?'

'She's Jaxyn's new playmate.'

Cayal took another step nearer and studied her closely for a moment. 'Did Jaxyn hurt you?'

She shook her head. 'Not physically. I've been here in Torlenia for the past few months, so I'm out of his

reach for the time being. But he's not been idle. Since we left Glaeba he's destroyed my husband's reputation, forced the king to disinherit him — and me along with it — trumped up charges against us both, had himself appointed the role of the new King's Private Secretary and I suspect he had a hand in the untimely demise of the former King and Queen of Glaeba. Kinta thought I'd be safer at the abbey, where Jaxyn wouldn't think to look for me.'