The Gods of Amyrantha

by Jennifer Fallon

  “No.”

  “Pity.”

  Arkady stared at the Crasii in confusion. “You think it’s a pity? A moment ago I was betraying every mortal on Amyrantha simply because I let the Immortal Prince kiss me. Now it’s a shame I’m not making plans for a late-night assignation with him? You’re as confused about what you want as he is.”

  “I’m very clear about what I want, my lady. I want the Tide Lords gone. It’s a shame you’re not so dedicated to the cause.”

  A thousand arguments leapt to mind, as Arkady listened to this impudent, outspoken slave admonish her for her sins, both real and imagined. She wanted to tell her to mind her own business. She wanted to tell Tiji she knew nothing about what she felt for Cayal, or Declan, or the price of silk in the Ramahn markets, for that matter.

  But in the end, she said nothing, because she realised there was nothing she could say that would appease this feisty little Crasii. “What do you want of me, Tiji?”

  “Talk to Cayal again. Find out if he really has found a way to die. It would be nice if you could find out exactly what it is, too, and when he’s planning to do it. And where. And who’s going to be helping him.”

  “Anything else?”

  “The location of all the other immortals on Amyrantha would be handy.” The Crasii smiled then, adding, “While you’re about it.”

  Arkady wasn’t amused. “And how does this fit into your rather impertinent suggestion that I should be focusing my thoughts on Declan Hawkes, if the Immortal Prince shows up?”

  Tiji had the decency to look a little shamefaced. “I probably shouldn’t have said that.”

  “No, you probably shouldn’t have.”

  Tiji was silent for a moment, and then she asked, “Are you in love with Declan, my lady?”

  “No,” Arkady stated emphatically. “And just so we’re clear about it, I’m not in love with the Immortal Prince, either. Now, did you want me to talk to him again, or not?”

  “It’s too good an opportunity to waste, my lady. Do you think he’ll tell you anything?”

  “I have no idea, Tiji. Do you know where I can find him?”

  She nodded. “One of the canines in the tavern told me where his tent is.” She leaned over and scratched out a rough map of the tent city on the floor and then pointed to the larger circle she’d drawn in the sand. “The tavern tent is here. Cayal is staying over here. It’s the third one on the right.”

  “Then I’ll go and speak to him.” Arkady rose to her feet and looked down at the Crasii, a little fed up with her well-meaning disapproval. “And I’ll do whatever I have to, Tiji. For the sake of all the mortals and the Crasii on Amyrantha.”

  Without waiting for the Crasii to answer, she picked up her shroud off the pallet and headed for the entrance of the tent.

  “Did you want me to wait up?” Tiji called after her.

  Arkady decided not to dignify that impertinent remark with a response. She pulled the shroud over her head as she stepped into the darkness to the distant laughter of drunken cameleers.

  Before she had a chance to stop and consider the enormity of what she was about to attempt, Arkady hurried in the direction Tiji had told her Cayal’s tent was located. The night was chilly, the vast darkness sprinkled with stars. Glad of the protection of the shroud, she didn’t stop to admire the sky, however. Not only was she taking a considerable risk roaming the camp unescorted, she was dressed as a slave. Arkady’s lowly status meant she’d lost any protection her rank might once have afforded her.

  As it turned out, Arkady had nothing to fear from the men of the Tarascan Oasis. This was their first night here. There wasn’t a cameleer in the oasis who wasn’t in the tavern tent getting drunk, and the remainder of the caravan passengers, like the young acolytes heading to Brynden’s abbey to seek the Way of the Tide, or those heading back from the abbey, were hiding in their tents, either meditating or resting their aching bodies, pounded so mercilessly by the unforgiving saddles they’d spent the last hundred miles trapped in.

  Cayal’s tent, when she found it, was right where Tiji said it would be. Bracing herself, she pushed open the flap and stepped inside.

  It was one of the tents set up by the proprietors of the tavern tent for visitors who wished something a little more salubrious than the shelters they were travelling with. It boasted two rooms, a carpeted floor, a double pallet in the sleeping chamber and an elaborate wrought-iron brazier in the centre of the main room, to ward off the chilly desert nights.

  But the brazier was cold, the candles unlit, the tent deserted. There was no sign of Cayal.

  Not sure if she was relieved or disappointed, Arkady searched both rooms of the tent to be certain and then hurried back to her own tent.

  Tiji looked up frowning as Arkady dropped the tent flap back into place. “That was quick. What happened? Is it all over between you already? Or is the Immortal Prince not as enchanted with you as we’d hoped?”

  “He’s gone.”

  The Crasii scrambled to her feet and closed her eyes for a moment, before she opened them and began cursing like a cameleer.

  “You can’t sense him any longer, can you?”

  Tiji shook her head. “Tides, we’ve lost him.”

  “No,” Arkady said, lifting the shroud off. “I don’t think we have.”

  “You know where he’s going?”

  “If he was here in Tarascan, Tiji, surely there’s only one place he could be going.”

  The little Crasii thought about it for a moment and then nodded in agreement. “You’re right. He’s on his way to visit Brynden. He’ll be heading for the Abbey of the Way of the Tide.”

  “As are we, Tiji,” Arkady said. “As are we.”

  Chapter 53

  Stellan Desean was only days away from his trial when Jaxyn Aranville finally decided to pay him a visit. Warned in advance by the guards that his visitor was on the way up, he had time to compose himself before confronting his former lover.

  Stellan was under no illusions, any longer, about Jaxyn Aranville. He’d heard enough from the guards to know Hawkes was telling the truth about how he’d been used; how he’d been set up to clear the way for Jaxyn to take first the Duchy of Lebec and then the Glaeban throne. He no longer felt betrayed. Now he just felt stupid and gullible.

  And foolish for not listening to Arkady.

  Somehow, Arkady had known. Whether she had merely sensed the young man’s evil, or had something concrete on him—Stellan thought that unlikely; Arkady would not have hesitated to show him evidence of Jaxyn’s treachery if she’d had it—she had warned Stellan, from the very first moment he’d stepped foot in their home, that Jaxyn was not to be trusted.

  If only he had taken that warning for what it was—Arkady’s genuine concern for him—instead of dismissing her warnings out of hand as the foolish fears of a woman whose position was threatened by her husband’s love for another.

  When Jaxyn arrived he was dressed much more formally than his position as the Kennel Master of Lebec had ever required of him. And on the fourth finger of his left hand sat the heavy ducal signet of Lebec. With a single word, Jaxyn ordered the Crasii guards from the tower as Stellan rose to his feet. He stared at his former lover through the bars, disappointed to discover that after weeks of imagined conversations with this treacherous young man, now he was here, standing before him, Stellan couldn’t think of a thing to say.

  “My, my…how far the mighty have fallen,” Jaxyn remarked as soon as they were alone, glancing around the tower cell with interest. “Although they tell me this is the deluxe accommodation here. Hate to see where the commoners are kept if this is the good bit.”

  “Hello, Jaxyn.”

  The young man fixed his gaze on Stellan and smiled, as if he was genuinely pleased to see him. “Tides, but you’re a civilised fellow, aren’t you? If our places were reversed, I doubt I’d be as polite to you.”

  Stellan refused to be needled. “I’m still trying to work out what I ever did to
make you betray me so heinously.”

  “You were of no further use to me,” Jaxyn said with a shrug. “No…that’s not really true. It’s more that you were in my way. Becoming a liability. That’s all it is. Don’t take it personally.”

  “I loved you, Jaxyn.”

  The young man seemed unmoved.

  “I thought you loved me.”

  “How unfortunate for you.”

  Stellan was staggered by his casual disregard of everything that had passed between them. “You said you loved me.”

  Jaxyn folded his arms, staring at him through the bars. “And you believed me, Stellan, because you wanted to. You should have listened to Arkady, you know. She had me pegged from the moment we first met.”

  Stellan didn’t need to be reminded of that. “What about Kylia?”

  “What about her?”

  “I hear you’ve corrupted my niece, too.”

  Jaxyn laughed. “Corrupted her? Tides, who have you been talking to?”

  Stellan didn’t answer, keeping his expression blank, privately appalled to think he had ever considered this young man capable of love or honour.

  “Well, it’s of no matter really. I hear you’ve decided to stand trial, after all. That’s very courageous of you.”

  “It has nothing to do with courage,” Stellan said. “If I’m to be falsely accused, then I want my day in court.”

  “You don’t hope justice will prevail, surely? I hear Hawkes has a whole legion of willing witnesses ready to swear you’re responsible for the king and queen’s death, along with a dozen other sundry offences and probably the last Cataclysm as well.” Jaxyn seemed very amused. “Not surprising really. I mean, you stole his girl, didn’t you? He must have been waiting years for a chance like this. And I have to say, Stellan, the King’s Spymaster didn’t so much as blink when I told him what I wanted him to do to you.”

  “I’m sure he’s done a fine job of fabricating evidence against me, whatever his motivation,” Stellan said, wondering if there was a grain of truth in Jaxyn’s accusation about Hawkes biding his time for revenge. “However, it would be more expeditious, don’t you think, to tell the truth?”

  Jaxyn turned to look at the duke in surprise. “You’d willingly stand trial for the truth? My, what a difference a couple of weeks in a cell can make in a man. Aren’t you worried a confession that you’re a practising sodomite will embarrass your precious young king?”

  “My precious young king is currently arranging to have me tried for a dozen murders he knows I didn’t commit,” Stellan pointed out. “I rather think Mathu’s honour could already be judged as questionable, don’t you?”

  Jaxyn smiled. “I should tell him you said that. We could add slander to the list of charges against you. And it wouldn’t take much to get him excited about the idea, trust me. Mathu’s already smarting over the notion that you’ve been lying all these years. Not to mention his shuddering disgust of the realisation that you’ve actually seen him naked.”

  Stellan shook his head, wondering why it had taken a prison cell to make him see this man for what he really was. “This isn’t about the list of charges against me, though, is it? Or Mathu’s unfounded fears. This is about hiding the truth. The truth that will bring you down along with me, Jaxyn. The truth that would seriously interfere with your plans, I suspect.”

  “And what truth is that?”

  “Why don’t you tell me?”

  Jaxyn laughed. “Why? Do you think I came here to gloat? Do you imagine you can goad me into laying out my intentions for you, so you can pass the information on to your friends outside—assuming you have any left—so they can put an end to my evil plans for taking the throne of Glaeba?” Jaxyn walked back to the bars, grabbed them and thrust his face between them, grinning like a fool. “Or maybe the Cabal of the Tarot is back? Is that it, Stellan? Someone’s told them the Tide is on the turn? Maybe you’re an agent for the Guardian of the Lore. Is that it?”

  Stellan took a step backward, shaking his head. He’d never heard of the Cabal of the Tarot or the Guardian of the Lore. “What?”

  Jaxyn studied him for a moment longer and then pushed off the bars, laughing at his own outburst. “Never mind. Can I get you anything? More paper, perhaps, so you can write your confession in great and glorious detail, and be done with this nonsense?”

  “I’ve told you. I changed my mind. I will not confess to false charges. I’ll plead guilty to the truth, I’ve enough honour in me to do that. But I’ll not be remembered as a man who murdered his king—and his friend—to suit the purposes of an amoral fortune hunter.”

  “Tides!” Jaxyn said, his smile fading. “Now you sound like Arkady. And speaking of the lovely Arkady, she’ll be here soon, did you know that? I signed the warrant for her arrest myself. It was my first official act as the King’s Private Secretary. How about that? Me…signing the order to bring Arkady home?”

  Stellan’s stomach constricted at the thought of Arkady being dragged into this fiasco. Until now, knowing she was safe in Torlenia was the only thing that had kept him from being sick with worry about what might become of her. “There’s no need to involve my wife…”

  “Oh, yes, there is,” Jaxyn said, with a vehemence that startled Stellan. “That common-born whore spent the better part of a year looking down her nose at me. Time to redress the imbalance, don’t you think? My felines will have her back here any day now. She’ll find it a lot harder to look down her nose when she’s on her knees, I can promise you that.”

  “Arkady never did anything to hurt you, Jaxyn.”

  “Tides, but I’ve never met a man so blind as you!” Jaxyn shouted, grabbing the bars again. “She’s more dangerous than a hundred sodomites lining up to expose me. She knows, Stellan…and she’s not afraid. And if that isn’t irritating enough, the stupid bitch—after all the chances I gave her—ran off with that…that…royal cloaca, like he was some sort of…” He stopped, as if he’d only just realised he was ranting like a madman. He took a deep breath. “Well, suffice to say, I look forward to seeing your lovely wife again. And showing her the error of her ways.”

  Stellan looked at him in horror, wondering if it was possible that Jaxyn wasn’t entirely sane. Other than the clear threat to Arkady for sins against Jaxyn that seemed mostly in Jaxyn’s mind, Stellan had no idea what the young man was raving about. Nothing he said was making sense.

  “I must sound like a madman,” Jaxyn said, calm and in control now, as if he knew what Stellan must be thinking of his unexpectedly manic behaviour.

  “Please, Jaxyn, don’t harm Arkady.”

  “Then confess to killing the king,” Jaxyn suggested. “Or so help me, I will drag this farce of a trial out until she returns from Torlenia and then I will bring her here in chains and make you watch as I strip her naked and humiliate her in ways you—in your wildest nightmares—can’t even imagine.”

  Stellan felt sick with fear—not for himself, but for Arkady. He could think of nothing short of giving in to this man that would save her, and yet that notion felt almost as intolerable. “May…may…I have some time to consider my decision?”

  “You’ve got one day,” Jaxyn said, after thinking about it for a moment. “After that, the trial starts, and I will lose all patience with you. I’m sure you understand what that means.”

  “I’ll send word when I’ve decided,” Stellan said with a nod, wondering what he’d achieved with buying himself another day. Probably only a chance to dwell on the awful future awaiting both Arkady and me.

  Jaxyn smiled. “You’re a fool, Stellan, but you’re not stupid. I’m sure you’ll make the right decision.”

  Without waiting for his answer, Jaxyn turned and left the guard room. The door hadn’t even had time to close before the feline guards filed back to take their positions again.

  One day, Stellan had gained. One day to sign his own death warrant, or risk Arkady being tortured and degraded in the hands of a madman for the crime of being married to the
Duke of Lebec, for the crime of protecting his secret.

  Stellan turned away and walked to the large bay window, staring out at the clouds scudding across the sky, driven by a wind he couldn’t feel locked in this cell. It had seemed so simple before.

  He looked down wistfully at the long drop to the water below, wondering if he could break the window and jump before the guards in the outer guard room got to him. Probably not. And there was no guarantee the fall would kill him. The tower sat on the edge of the lake. Unless the water was particularly shallow, or concealed a bed of hidden rocks, a fall might simply result in multiple fractures and his rapid recapture.

  Stellan was a little surprised to find himself examining the option of suicide so dispassionately. Even more surprised to find himself rejecting the idea. Maybe, despite all that had befallen him, he wasn’t quite as ready to die as he’d imagined he was.

  Allowing himself to be framed for murder, Stellan realised, was tantamount to the same thing.

  “Sharisha?”

  The feline in charge of his guard moved closer to the bars. She was a tabby, a distinct “M” marking her forehead. Stellan had been here long enough to learn her name, but she wasn’t one of the more garrulous guards so he’d not often spoken to her. “Sir?”

  “Would you deliver a message for me?”

  She watched him with great suspicion. “That would depend on who you wished your message delivered to, my lord.”

  “Declan Hawkes.”

  The feline thought about it and then nodded, seeing nothing wrong with passing on a message to the man who was—for all intents and purposes—her boss. “What did you want to tell him?”

  “Can you ask him to visit me? Tell him I said we need to talk.”

  “You’re planning to confess, then?”

  “Just ask him to come, Sharisha. Please. And tell him it must be today.”

  The feline nodded again and turned from the bars. She called a tall-ish black-and-white feline to her, whispered something in her ear, to which the black-and-white saluted and then hurried from the guard room.