“Tell me that’s what you want, Arkady, and I’ll give you the world . . . Tides, I’ll conquer Glaeba for you, if that’s what you want. I’ll make you her queen . . .” he’d offered, when he caught up with her at the Tarascan Oasis a few months ago.
“Listen to yourself, Cayal,” she’d said. “You don’t want me. You don’t even know me. If you did, you’d not define what you think I desire in terms of how much of the world you can conquer on my behalf.”
“Then what do you want, Arkady?” he’d asked.
“Whatever I want, Cayal, I’m fairly certain it’s not being the petty distraction you need to give your life meaning while you wait for the end of time.”
Cayal knew what she meant now, even if Arkady wasn’t sure herself. Arkady didn’t want an empire. She wanted to feel safe.
That she felt safe around someone like Hawkes peeved him even more. Hawkes wasn’t safe. He was an immortal with no idea of the power he had access to, what to do with it when he was holding it in his hands, and likely to make a lot of very powerful enemies in a very short space of time.
Whenever Cayal felt the urge to point this out to Arkady, however, he took a deep breath and reminded himself of the prize. Death awaited him, provided he could gather enough Tide Lords to aid Lukys. Hawkes might be a danger to Arkady, but Cayal needed him more than he needed Arkady.
And in a way, it was fitting. Arkady, after all, was the biggest danger Cayal had faced for quite some time.
“You look pathetic when you’re moping.”
Cayal looked up to find Medwen standing on the veranda of the Outpost, studying him with interest. He was sitting on a rickety stool; leaning back so far it was balanced on the back two legs, his feet resting on the railing. Down by the dock, Declan Hawkes, Arkady, Jojo and Tiji were apparently learning the finer points of channel fishing, courtesy of Azquil and the chameleon’s sister, Tenika. Although he couldn’t hear what they were saying, there was much laughter and general frivolity going on, which did nothing but vex him even more.
“I’m not moping.”
“Yes, you are,” Medwen said, taking a seat on the edge of the railing, effectively blocking his view of the dock. “You’re like a little thundercloud, Cayal, all mopey and weepy and feeling sorry for himself.”
“I want to die, Medwen. Being mopey and weepy and feeling sorry for myself goes with the territory, don’t you think?”
She smiled and looked over her shoulder at the dock before turning back to look at Cayal. “Tides, if you want her so badly, just take her and be done with it,” she advised. “Hawkes still hasn’t got a clue what he’s doing with the Tide. You could probably beat him in an unfair fight, magical or otherwise.”
“I could probably beat him? Thanks for the resounding vote of confidence.” He sighed and let the stool thump down so it rested on all four legs again. “Anyway, I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“We have a deal. He gets the girl, I get a funeral.”
“You traded Arkady for his cooperation?”
“More or less.”
“Tides, I’m not sure which one of you that makes the most despicable, Cayal—you for suggesting such a bargain, or Hawkes for agreeing to it.”
“Why do you assume I’m the one who suggested it?”
“You are, aren’t you?”
“Well, yes . . . but you might have considered the possibility it wasn’t my idea.”
She smiled. “It’s disrespectful, unfair to Arkady and shows a complete lack of consideration for anybody else’s feelings, Cayal. Of course it was your suggestion.”
He studied her expression hopefully. “Does that mean you’ve changed your mind and you’re coming to Jelidia with me after all? I mean, if I’m such a despicable bastard, you’ll be glad to see the end of me, won’t you?”
Medwen wasn’t so easily manipulated. She shook her head. “I’m not going to pander to your maudlin self-pity, Cayal. I understand you want to die—even empathise with your pain—but you can’t make me feel guilty for not helping your death along. Besides, you don’t need me. I suspect you don’t need any of us, even though Arryl insists on keeping her promise to you about going to Jelidia. You have Hawkes to help you now. One shiny, brand new, totally unexpected Tide Lord to help push you into oblivion is worth far more than three moderately talented immortals who’d rather you didn’t find a way to die, because we’re actually at peace with ourselves and the idea of living forever.”
“Are you really?”
“Yes.”
“Aren’t you bored?”
“Not at all,” she said. “I have a purpose.”
“What purpose?” he scoffed. “Making beads? Curing swamp fever? Tides, I’d rather die if the only thing I could find to live for was the idea that I can save a few score lizards from puking and shitting themselves to death.”
“But you see, that’s my point, Cayal,” she said, refusing to let his scorn dent her serenity. “It doesn’t really matter what it is; you just need something. And I have something to live for. The Trinity gives me and Arryl and Ambria a function. It might seem trite and silly to you, but we have a reason to get up every morning. You don’t, and that’s why you want to die.”
“I’ve changed my mind,” he said, leaning back on the stool. “Stay here with Ambria and tend to your flanking lizards. I’d rather not listen to your why-can’t-you-be-happy-with-your-lot-in-life lectures all the way to Jelidia, anyway.”
Medwen shook her head and smiled at him fondly. “If you succeed in this folly, I will miss you, Cayal.”
“You won’t miss me. You’ll thank me. If I succeed, you’ll have a way out.”
“Even if I don’t want one?”
Cayal shook his head. “You say that now, Medwen. You may keep on saying it for another ten thousand years. But there will come a time when you reach breaking point. I may have reached it sooner than you, but it’s there, waiting for us all. And when you get there, you’ll have somewhere to go. Thanks to me.”
“And if you fail? What then?”
He shrugged. “Then I will have failed this time, that’s all. It won’t stop me from trying again.”
Medwen laughed. “Tides, I was wrong. You do have a purpose, Cayal. Whether you realise it or not, you’re as driven as any of us.”
“I’m driven by the desire to be dead, Medwen,” he said, her laughter doing nothing to improve his mood.
“But the point is, you are driven, Cayal, and that makes you just as pathetic as you think we are for trying to help the chameleon Crasii.”
There were a few loose ends to tie up before they left the Outpost for Jelidia, and until they were taken care of, Arryl refused to go anywhere. The most pressing issue was the swamp fever that had caused the problem with the Physicians’ Guild in the first place. It still needed to be brought under control, something she and her immortal sisters had been struggling to cope with. But Arryl now had two powerful Tide Lords at her disposal and she wasn’t going to let them go anywhere until they’d done what she and the others couldn’t: cure the fever outright.
When she informed Cayal of this new condition on her cooperation, he refused. He’d done enough, in his mind.
“I saved your wretched swamp from invasion, Arryl,” he said, pushing aside the tea she tried to serve him, as if that would somehow lessen the blow. “Now we leave.”
“You turned back one incursion fleet,” Ambria said, firmly behind her immortal sister in this outrageous demand. “That doesn’t get to the root of the problem, which is the swamp fever.”
They were gathered in the kitchen, sitting around the large scrubbed table. Cayal didn’t know where the Crasii had gone, but the only mortal in the room was Arkady, who sat next to Declan on the other side of the table.
“First sign of an outbreak in Port Traeker, and the guild will be back,” Medwen said. “And it won’t matter how many priests are standing on the docks praying to Jaxyn. It won’t hold them back.”
Arryl nodded in agreement but she directed her next comment to Declan, and probably Arkady, who was still guilt-ridden over her part in the death of the infected Crasii of Watershed Falls. “We can cure the fever, but we can’t eradicate it. Between you and Cayal, you can.” She turned back to Cayal. “Once that’s done, you will have fulfilled your part of the deal, and I will leave with you.”
“And I suppose you can’t wait to help them?” Cayal said to Declan. “Not going to turn down a chance to use your sparkly new powers for good, are you?”
Declan turned to Arkady. “What do you think I should do?”
“Tides! Don’t ask her! She’s still tormented by what she did to these wretched Crasii with her tonic. Let Arkady have a say in this, Hawkes, and you’ll have to cure every ill that ails mankind before you’re allowed to go anywhere!”
“Cayal, being obnoxious isn’t going to endear anybody to your cause,” Arryl pointed out calmly. “You have my condition. If you want my help, you will help me first.”
“I don’t need your help, Arryl. As Medwen so astutely pointed out yesterday, one Tide Lord is worth far more than three moderately talented immortals who’d rather I didn’t find a way to die.”
“But you don’t have a Tide Lord,” Hawkes said. “Because I happen to think Arryl is right. If we don’t remove the threat of swamp fever, all the religious fervour in the world isn’t going to protect the wetlands from another incursion.” He turned to Arryl, smiling. “You’ll have to show me what to do, my lady, but if I can help you, I will.”
“Thank you, Declan.”
“So much for your deal, Cayal,” Medwen said with a sour smile.
“What deal?” Arkady asked.
Medwen turned to Arkady. “Ah, that’s right; they haven’t let you in on their little arrangement, have they, dear? Declan’s going to help Cayal die, you see, Arkady, in return for you in his bed and not Cayal’s.”
Hawkes visibly paled. Cayal let out a long sigh and treated Medwen to a look that spoke volumes. She smiled at him unapologetically. “What? You think she shouldn’t be told? Tides, the poor girl deserves to know, don’t you think, that the men she believes saved her from slavery are still treating her as a tradeable commodity?”
Arkady’s gaze swivelled between Cayal and Declan, her eyes wide. “Is she serious?”
“It wasn’t like that . . .” Declan began.
“Then what was it like?”
Hawkes looked to Cayal for help, but he shrugged, figuring there was no delicate way out of this for either of them. “I want to die, he wants to live,” Cayal said with a shrug. “It wasn’t about you, so much, Arkady, as . . . a matter of practicality.”
Arkady’s expression grew thunderous. “Practicality?” She turned on Declan. “Oh, I think I’m beginning to see what a practical arrangement this is. For some people, at least.”
Hawkes put his hand out to her, at a complete loss as to what he should say. “Arkady . . .”
“Don’t touch me,” she said, jumping to her feet, her anger a palpable thing. She turned to Cayal then and added, “Either of you. Ever again.”
And with that, Arkady turned and stormed out of the kitchen, leaving the immortals staring after her.
“Thank you, Medwen,” Cayal said in the uncomfortable silence that following Arkady’s departure. “That was very helpful.”
“Don’t try to make me feel guilty,” she said. “You and your new best friend here are the bastards who did the deal.”
“I’ll speak to her,” Hawkes said, rising from his chair.
“Leave her be, Declan,” Arryl advised, putting her hand on his arm to restrain him. “She needs to calm down first. Trust me, nothing either of you says to Arkady at the moment is going to help.”
Declan seemed to accept that as the bitter truth, and nodded reluctantly.
“In the meantime,” Ambria said, “while your little friend is pacing the foreshore, discovering the futility of plotting the demise of any immortal, no matter how immoral or inconsiderate he is, you two can do something useful with your time and eradicate the swamp fever for us.”
Cayal shook his head, knowing he was caught. Hawkes would do this now to spite him, which meant he had no choice but to follow suit. Besides, two Tide Lords could work much quicker than one, particularly when the one was as clueless about swimming the Tide as Hawkes was. The sooner it was done, the sooner they could leave.
And once it was done, with a good deed behind them to soothe troubled waters, perhaps Arkady would have calmed down enough to accept Hawkes’s apology.
And then, finally, with another Tide Lord to help him die, Cayal could return to Jelidia and find the welcome arms of oblivion.
Chapter 64
“They’re gone.”
Ambria was sitting at the kitchen table sewing and didn’t look up when she spoke. Arkady wasn’t sure how Ambria knew she was there, but the immortal seemed neither surprised nor concerned that Arkady was soaking wet. It was raining outside, the raindrops pattering on the thatched roof, thunder rumbling lazily in the distance. Arkady was drenched but the rain was warm and she wasn’t particularly cold. If anything, it felt very appropriate. The weather matched her mood perfectly.
It had another advantage too. When you’d been drenched by a downpour, it wasn’t possible to tell tears from raindrops.
“I saw them heading off in a boat with Tiji and Azquil just before the rain started,” Arkady said, taking a seat opposite the immortal, wondering if Ambria would complain she was dripping on her kitchen floor. “Do you know how long they’ll be gone?”
Ambria shook her head. “Not exactly. Could be as long as a month, though, if they want to cover all the coastal villages. Plenty of time for you to make yourself scarce.”
Arkady stared at Ambria, wondering how the immortal knew what she was thinking. Telepathy was not a skill she thought the immortals owned. On the other hand, Ambria may not have a clue what Arkady was thinking and was simply kicking her out. The Outpost was her home, after all, and Arkady hadn’t really been invited to stay.
“Do you think I should leave?” she said, hedging around the question.
Ambria shrugged. “Up to you, I suppose. If it was me . . . well, I know what I’d do, but then I have the advantage of several thousand years of experience dealing with the likes of Cayal and his ilk. You might like learning things the hard way.”
Arkady smiled thinly. “I think I’ve seen the error of my ways in that regard, my lady.”
Ambria bit off the end of the thread, shoved the needle through the hem of her sleeve to get it out of the way, and smoothed out the seam of the shift she was sewing before she bothered to answer. “Then you have two choices, as far as I can tell. Stay here, get on my nerves for the next month or so, then leave with Cayal and your friend when they get back, go to Jelidia with them and meet up with Lukys. You can console yourself with the thought that when they finally come to blows over you—as they inevitably will—it may or may not end in a Cataclysm that destroys civilisation as we know it provided it happens quickly enough and it’s not High Tide when they turn on each other.”
“And my other option?”
“Get away. Now. While you still can.”
“Where would I go?”
“Anywhere you want, I suppose.” The immortal studied her for a moment. “You strike me as the resourceful type. There’s a whole world out there to get lost in, Arkady. Trust me, I’ve done it often enough to know.”
But were you trying to avoid a lover? Did your heart ache like this? Arkady wondered silently. “You were married to Krydence once, weren’t you?”
The change of subject seemed to take Ambria by surprise. She hesitated and then shrugged. “So?”
“Was immortality what drove you apart?”
“Krydence will sleep with anything that walks,” Ambria said. “That’s what drove us apart.” She sighed and shook her head. “Tides, don’t look to me for advice about affairs of the heart, girl. I’ve lived
far too long to care for romance. The only thing I can tell you as an absolute is that there is no possible way to be happy if you get involved with an immortal.”
“Not even for a short time?”
“Define short,” Ambria said. “You’ll find you and I have a rather different perspective on that.”
That was true. And maybe Ambria was the wrong person to ask advice of. She certainly didn’t seem bothered about Arkady’s fate one way or the other. But Tides, it hurt so much. Arkady needed to talk to someone, even an immortal who couldn’t have cared less.
“I can’t believe Declan did a deal behind my back like that.”
“What? You would have preferred he asked you first?” She smiled as she turned the garment over, looking for another seam that needed stitching. “I can’t believe you’re getting all wounded about it. Their arrangement struck me as being an eminently workable solution to a potentially awkward situation for everyone involved.”
“That’s because you aren’t the one being traded, my lady.”
“True enough,” the immortal conceded. “We all look at the world through our own eyes. Yours seem a little more sensitive than most.”
Arkady shook her head. “The irony is, Cydne used to accuse me all the time of not acting enough like a slave. Of not thinking like one. And, you know, he was right. I never felt like a slave. Not for a moment. Not the whole time I had to walk around half naked, working like a drudge from dawn ’til dusk, at the beck and call of a man who wanted to use my body to relieve his own frustration, mostly because he was scared of his wife. Not for an instant . . . until I heard those two had done a deal to decide who got to have me.”
“Do you love Declan?”
“I thought I did. Until a few hours ago.”
Ambria smiled. “Then that’s a yes. You don’t fall out of love with someone in the space of a few hours. A few centuries will take care of it, though.”
“Even if I do, that doesn’t ease the hurt much.”
“Only because you won’t let it.”
The Palace of Impossible Dreams Page 46
