The Gods of Amyrantha (6 page)

'I suspect that's our cue,' Stellan remarked, offering Arkady his arm.

She said nothing, but took his arm and let him lead her across the deck and down the treacherously bouncy gangway. As they stepped onto the salt-encrusted wharf, the thin man stepped forward and bowed, his left fist clasped in his right hand in the traditional Torlenian greeting gesture.

'Your grace,' the man announced in flawless Glaeban, to Stellan significantly, as if Arkady wasn't standing right beside him. 'Welcome to Torlenia.'

CHAPTER 5

Shalimar led Warlock and Boots out of Lebec City on horseback early one morning. It was a little over a month after the canine Crasii had met with Declan Hawkes for the first time and been invited to join his secret Scard army in Hidden Valley. Warlock still wasn't sure he believed such an opportunity existed, particularly as further investigation had revealed some interesting information about Hawkes. The alarming news that Declan Hawkes was the King's Spymaster had only been slightly offset by the news that he was also their friend Shalimar's grandson.

Warlock had been even more disturbed to discover that while their relationship seemed to be common knowledge in the slums, rumour also had it the two men hadn't exchanged a civil word in years. Shalimar, according to the gossips, wasn't at all pleased that his grandson had chosen a life which put him at odds with most of the people he'd grown up with and once thought of as his friends.

Warlock was fairly certain that was not the case, given Shalimar was the one who'd brought them to this ramshackle inn. It was here, on the orders of Declan Hawkes, they were waiting to meet the next — and as yet unknown — person in the unexpected chain of humans who seemed to be a part of this secret underground movement set up to help Lebec's dispossessed Crasii.

'Stop pacing.'

His tail lashing impatiently, Warlock turned to look at Boots who was sitting opposite Shalimar at the

rough table set under the eaves of Clyden's Inn. She was finishing off her second bowl of the inn's surprisingly tasty stew, enjoying the bright summer sunshine. Shalimar sat opposite her, leaning back against wall, his hat pulled down over his eyes, apparently asleep.

'I can't help it,' he told her.

'Try,' she suggested. 'You're driving me crazy.'

'I don't know how you can sit there stuffing your face as if there's nothing going on.'

'You're too used to knowing where your next meal is coming from, Farm Dog,' she replied through a mouthful of half-chewed meat. 'Otherwise you wouldn't need an explanation.'

'I wish you'd stop calling me Farm Dog.'

'Then stop acting like one.'

Warlock stared at her, trying to recall what he'd seen in this young female that had resulted in their savage mating in the alley outside the Kennel. He'd not been able to get enough of her back then. Deep down, he understood it was instinct. He knew when the heat was on her, there was nothing he or any other male could do to resist it. The Boots he'd come to know since then, however, was prickly, impatient and dismissive of many of the customs and traditions that, for Warlock, defined their very natures as Crasii. The timing of their mating made him wonder about something else, too. Although she showed no signs of being with pup yet, it might be too early to tell. She was certainly eating as if she had more than one belly to fill. Would she still treat him so impatiently if he'd fathered a litter on her?

'Someone's coming.'

It was Shalimar who spoke, although he hadn't moved or even raised his head.

'How can you tell?' Boots asked.

The old man sat up stiffly and pushed back his wide-brimmed, woven hat. 'I can feel it in the wall.'

As he was speaking, Warlock's sharp canine hearing picked up the sound of cantering hooves. They slowed before they became audible to less-gifted ears and by the time the newcomers came into sight along the western arm of the narrow crossroads, Boots, Shalimar and Warlock were on their feet and the horsemen were approaching at a steady trot.

A few moments later the three human riders reined in and dismounted. The man in the lead was a dark-haired, not unpleasant looking man in his mid-thirties. His cloak was expensive, his riding gloves made of the finest kid, and he wore the kind of arrogant look Warlock had long ago learned to associate with Glaeba's ruling class.

The man stepped forward, his gaze sending a shiver of apprehension down Warlock's spine. Had they been betrayed, after all? Was this man here not to help them, but enslave them again? Warlock glanced around, wondering if he could outrun the henchmen accompanying this arrogant-looking nobleman, who were, he was sure, here only to make certain the Crasii didn't cause trouble.

Shalimar stepped up to greet the nobleman. His expression softened and he smiled, transforming his whole countenance. 'You beat me here, old man. What did you do? Fly?'

Shalimar shook the younger man's hand warmly. 'No, we just left half a day before you and didn't founder anything getting here, that's all. This is Warlock, by the way. And his friend, Boots.'

The man handed his reins to one of his companions, who led the horses off around the yard to walk them a little while they cooled down. He then turned to the two Crasii and, to Warlock's astonishment, offered him his hand. 'I'm Aleki Ponting. Shalimar speaks highly of you both.'

'Lord
Ponting?' Boots asked, as shocked as Warlock at the man's lack of artifice. 'Of Summerton?'

'You've heard of me?'

'I grew up at Lebec Palace.'

'Ah! Then you probably know my mother, yes?' Lord Ponting didn't seem particularly worried by the notion. 'She's a frequent guest at the palace.'

Boots shook her head. 'No, my lord, I never met her. I mean ... I know of her.'

Warlock thought it interesting Boots had automatically granted Aleki Ponting his title. She wasn't usually so accommodating.

'I can imagine you do,' Aleki agreed with a smile. 'She's fairly notorious. Have you eaten?'

'Yes,' Warlock informed him. 'Shalimar arranged —'

'A snack,' Boots interjected. 'So if you want to stop for lunch, we don't mind staying for seconds.'

'Thirds,' Warlock corrected under his breath.

Boots grinned, wagging her tail. 'The stew here is pretty good.'

'I know. Clyden is quite famous for his stew,' Aleki agreed. 'And we have the time, I suppose. Did you arrange horses for them, Shalimar?'

The old man nodded. 'In the stable. And if you're happy to take care of these two now, I'd like to get going.'

'Of course,' Lord Ponting agreed, and then he turned and indicated his two companions. 'Lon and Tenry will escort you.'

'We've talked about this, Aleki,' Shalimar reminded him.

'You're a lone old man on a road notorious for its highwaymen, Shalimar, heading into a potentially dangerous situation. Take the damned escort and be thankful.'

The old man frowned. 'Declan put you up to this, didn't he?'

Lord Ponting smiled. 'And what loyal servant of the king would dare defy the King's Spymaster?' 'This one, for starters.'

'You know I'll only make them follow you if you refuse,' the younger man warned, making Warlock wonder where the old man was heading. The road from Lebec was well travelled and the city was a mere hour or two away, even on foot.

Surely he's just going to turn around and go home?

Aleki sighed. 'You might as well just accept them and enjoy their company.'

Shalimar muttered something rude under his breath and then nodded with ill grace. 'It's not nice to bully an old man.'

'I'll be sure to mention your displeasure to your grandson, when next I see him.'

'I'm sure he already knows,' Shalimar grumbled.

The old man turned to the bodyguard who was standing behind Lord Ponting, fixing his displeased gaze him. 'Well, don't just stand there, man! Fetch my horse from the stable. It's the piebald. And you,' he called to the other man walking the horses. 'Try to look a bit more intimidating, would you. If we
are
set upon by bandits, you'll be the first one they kill, just because you look so damned pathetic'

Aleki smiled even wider, shaking his head, and then issued his own instructions to his men, which were to not let Shalimar Hawkes out of their sight. As he spoke, the first guard returned from the inn's stables with Shalimar's piebald pony. The old man shucked off any attempt at assistance and swung into the saddle with surprising agility.

When he was mounted, he turned the horse until he was facing Warlock and Boots. 'You can trust Aleki. He'll see you come to no harm.'

'Thanks for the help, Shalimar,' Boots replied. 'And the food.'

'Thanks for the company,' the old man replied. He looked at Warlock and then bent down to offer him his handshake. 'It's been good knowing you, Warlock.'

'And you, too, Shalimar,' the Crasii agreed, out of politeness more than genuine appreciation for the old man's help. He still wasn't entirely convinced this wasn't an elaborate trap, although why any human would go to such trouble just to ensnare a couple of unindentured slaves was a question to which he had no answer.

'We'll meet again, perhaps,' the old man said, as his guards mounted, after handing Lord Ponting's mount back to him. 'Or maybe not. I suspect Aleki has great things planned for you.'

Warlock looked to the earl for some indication Shalimar spoke the truth, but the nobleman's expression revealed nothing.

Shalimar tugged on his reins and turned his horse out of the yard and onto the eastern road — away from the city — with Lon and Tenry close on his heels. Boots stepped up close to Warlock as he watched him leave. 'You know, I think I'm going to miss that old man.'

'You'll miss the food, you mean.'

'That too.' She turned to look at Aleki Ponting. 'Will you feed us as well as Shalimar did, my lord?'

The earl seemed amused. 'I doubt there's another soul on Amyrantha who'll feed you as well as Shalimar did.' He began to pull off his gloves and cloak. It was warm standing here in the sun, and although Shalimar had provided the Crasii with warmer clothes packed into their saddlebags, they were both still wearing the thin cotton shifts common to all city-dwelling Crasii. The human, with his fine wool cloak, would be sweltering. 'You won't starve, however. Did he tell you where we're going?'

'Hidden Valley,' Warlock answered for her.

'Did he tell you anything else?'

'Not really.'

'Then we have quite a lot to discuss along the way.' Leading his horse, Aleki turned for the stables, as if that was the end of the discussion.

'Are we free to leave?'

The earl stopped and turned to look at them. 'Are you
planning
to?'

'That's not an answer.'

Lord Ponting stepped a little closer, and while he seemed pleasant enough, there was an undercurrent of threat in his bearing that, strangely, Warlock found reassuring. If these people were planning to lull him and Boots into believing they were being escorted to paradise, only to enslave them again, Aleki should be bending over backward to convince them they had nothing to fear. But the Earl of Summerton was acting like a man with something to protect. Just as Declan Hawkes had made the consequences of their refusal clear, Aleki wasn't trying to paint a rosy picture, either.

'You and your friend are here on trust,' Lord Ponting told him, looking up at the big Crasii. 'And while ever you demonstrate yourself worthy of that trust, Warlock, you'll be treated accordingly. The Tide Lords are returning and that means every man, woman and child in this world is in danger, not to mention the Crasii. You've been offered a chance to do something to protect the Crasii from being abused the way they were the last time the immortals controlled Amyrantha. You should know enough of your own history to know what that means.'

'He only meant ...' Boots began, her tail wagging slightly, a little alarmed at the seriousness of the nobleman's tone.

'I know what he meant, Boots. He wants to know if you're prisoners. So let me put your mind at ease. Both of you. You want to leave? Fine. Go now, and good luck to you both. But know this: the closer we get to Hidden Valley, the more we have to protect, and I promise you, we're prepared to do whatever it takes to protect our people. If that means hunting you down and killing you before you can betray our secrets, so be it.'

CHAPTER 6

The seraglium attached to the Glaeban embassy in Ramahn turned out to be much less depressing than Arkady was expecting. Rather than the three rooms she feared, the women's quarters took up most of the north wing of the embassy and included a small lawn and a water garden, an extravagance of the most amazing kind in Ramahn's hot and arid climate.

The embassy itself was an impressive building, even for someone who had grown accustomed to the opulent wealth of Lebec. Two storeys high, flat-roofed and covering almost an entire city block, it was a palace in its own right. The building was covered with millions of tiny ceramic tiles, both inside and out, some done in geometric patterns, others worked into delightful murals depicting all manner of imaginary creatures, and more than a few scenes Arkady recognised from the Tide Lord Tarot.