Palindrake bowed. ‘I am pleased we are having this meeting, your majesty.’
Ashalan sat upon a chair that had been placed in readiness for him. ‘Inevitable,’ he said. ‘Please sit.’
Palindrake glanced at another empty chair set nearby and after a slight pause sat down in it. As he did so, he looked up at the blackwood tree and Tayven’s whole body shuddered.
The meeting was hardly exciting fare and progressed exactly as Tayven had envisaged. Tatrini was the power behind the peace campaign and, yes, Ashalan was invited to Magrast to partake of her hospitality. There, he would meet Leonid and the tempting offers would be made. It seemed too good to be true. Helayna was right about one thing: Ashalan clearly was quite important to the Malagashes. His was the bloodline of the great King Alofel, who’d once bested Mewt. He would make a charismatic ally, whose co-operation would show the world how powerful Magravandias had become. In return for Ashalan’s fealty, and the surrender of his troops’ arms, certain Cossic prisoners would be released and land would be restored to those Cossic nobility in exile who were prepared to follow Ashalan’s lead.
The only difficult moment came when Valraven Palindrake said, ‘You can, of course, guarantee that all your people in the Rhye will lay down their arms and follow your orders?’
Ashalan hesitated.
‘If they do not,’ Palindrake continued smoothly, ‘Leonid will order me to root them out. And I will, eventually. Their safety cannot be guaranteed. I hope you understand this.’
‘I understand your words,’ Ashalan said.
‘Princess Helayna?’ Palindrake murmured politely. ‘Does she understand?’
She will come forward now, Tayven thought. She will insult him, cause a scene. Yet there was only silence, but for the crackling of the fire and the uneasy movements of the Cossics around it.
‘I am doing what I think is best for my people,’ Ashalan said. ‘I will not go back on my word. But you and I both know I cannot speak for everyone. Opinion is divided. It is beyond my control.’
Palindrake inclined his head. ‘I understand the difficulty of your position, but if you have any care for the dissenters, you will use your royal powers of persuasion to make them see sense.’
‘One man’s sense is not another’s,’ Ashalan said. ‘All I can give you is myself and those who are loyal to me.’
Palindrake nodded thoughtfully. ‘I too have a headstrong sister,’ he said. ‘For all the problems she presents, I would not want her to be any other way.’
Still, Helayna did not show herself. Tayven imagined her in hiding close by, feeling much as he did now, wrestling with conflicting feelings concerning Valraven Palindrake. He knew Helayna well, and guessed that part of her could not help but admire the man who came alone to an enemy camp, who did not flinch as an arrow hit the dirt at his feet. Part of her would want to join Ashalan and share the feast that Old Mab had prepared, but her principles would not allow her to give in.
‘I will escort you personally to Magrast,’ Palindrake said to Ashalan. ‘You will, of course, be permitted a retinue. It would be best if Princess Helayna was part of it.’
Old Mab brought out the feast then, casting caustic glances at the Dragon Lord. Was this how it was to end, so bloodlessly? Tayven slithered back along his branch. He felt he should seek Helayna out, that she would need his company.
With barely a rustle of leaves, Tayven dropped to the ground and slunk off into the darkness. Where would she be? He skirted the camp, heading for the cave, which Helayna had made her home. He sensed she was alone. Such was Palindrake’s power that her companions would have made themselves scarce. Talk and bluster was one thing, action in the face of Palindrake himself another. Tayven jumped with the ease and precision of a cat onto a ledge above him. His senses did not alert him to anything being amiss. Therefore, when someone grabbed hold of him, pinning his arms to his sides from behind, he was taken completely by surprise.
‘Are you one of her creatures, Tayven? Was it you who fired the arrow?’
Valraven Palindrake. Tayven knew fear then, gut deep, primal fear. He didn’t want to feel it, sought to control it, but it controlled him. He couldn’t even struggle. ‘No,’ he gasped.
Palindrake released him. ‘By Madragore, I’ve sensed your presence in these mountains for years,’ he said. ‘I never believed you were dead. Then we learned for sure you weren’t. I’d wondered when we’d run into each other. You went to the people you were working with, didn’t you?’
‘No,’ Tayven answered, rubbing his arms. He felt cold, as if a ghost had passed through him. ‘I never saw them again. Another faction. Small. Not part of Ashalan’s movement. Helayna found me after Bayard had done his work. She saved my life.’
‘How fortuitous. Maycarpe hasn’t kept your confidence, you know. He told Almorante you were alive.’
‘I wasn’t important in Magrast, and I’m not now,’ Tayven said. ‘I’m an exile, like Ashalan. I have discarded the past. Why follow me? What do you want?’ He could barely see Palindrake in the gathering darkness. The Dragon Lord seemed part of it.
‘You don’t deceive me,’ Palindrake said. ‘I know you, Tayven. I was stupid not to realise it before.’
‘What do you mean?’
For a moment, the Dragon Lord seemed almost human. ‘It would have been wrong of me to prevent what happened. I hope you understand that.’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Tayven said. ‘You were never part of my life. You never will be. I’ll disappear again. It’s not that difficult.’
Palindrake smiled grimly. ‘Easy to disappear, difficult to remain visible. You are nearly a ghost, Tayven.’ He paused. ‘I will tell you something. It is of great importance.’
‘I want to hear nothing about the past, nothing!’ Tayven snapped.
‘Not your past. Mine.’
‘I do not want it in my keeping.’
Palindrake made an emphatic gesture, from which Tayven could not prevent himself flinching away. ‘I am not who you think I am. Whatever you’ve said to your new king, you are mistaken. You have been changed by events beyond your control. You are not alone. The man who led the army in Cos when you were with Khaster is not the one before you now. It is important you know this, for the future.’
‘Why tell me this?’ Tayven asked.
‘An instinct,’ Palindrake said, and then shook his head. ‘You may run from life, Tayven, but it is hunting you, and it will find you. Have no doubt of it. And when it does, you will remember this conversation. I can see it in your eyes. You know the truth in your heart already. Are you man enough to accept it?’
Palindrake took a step backwards and it seemed that shadows closed around him like a cloak. ‘If you’re Helayna’s friend, stop her making a grave mistake,’ he said. ‘One day, I hope we shall all bear the truth. Together. All of us.’
Tayven opened his mouth to speak, but Palindrake had already gone. Tayven realised he was shivering. What had happened? It seemed as if the Dragon Lord had never actually been there.
Chapter Seventeen: Face From the Scry-Mede
Queen Neferishu sent for Shan daily, once his work with Tuya was finished, but would never keep him longer than an hour or so. She made jokes about desiring him, but never actually initiated anything. Perhaps she was waiting for him to do so. They were never alone together anyway. ‘You are a little mystery,’ she would say, narrowing her cat’s eyes at him.
Shan was wary of her and mistrusted her. She entertained the Dragon Lord in her private apartments. To Shan, she betrayed her own people constantly, because she loved comfort. But perhaps that was not the whole story.
Shan was sometimes amazed at the way his life had changed. Only a few short years before, he’d been nothing more than a peasant, thinking only of goats and harvest. Now he disdained the seductions of a queen and lived in a royal palace. What would his father think of this, and his aunt? Had his mother ever foreseen it, if only sligh
tly? Is this fortune? Shan wondered. He should feel lucky, perhaps, and not take it all for granted. But he had to admit he felt at home in Akahana, mixing with Maycarpe and the court. He had a right to be there, perhaps a divine right. He was no longer a peasant boy, but a young man who mixed with royalty. He had learned how to act like a nobleman, as a son of Sir Rupert would act. His past did not exist. No one knew about it, in any case. They’d never find him out.
At night Shan would think about what Maycarpe and Sinaclara had told him. Who was the right king and could it ever be himself? He could fantasise about it easily, but was sensible enough to realise the reality was far-fetched. Someone would one day take Leonid’s place and Shan would dearly love that to be someone other than a Malagash. Now his life seemed to be on hold. Secrets had been revealed to him, but nothing had actually happened. He wrestled with the knowledge that he kept from Merlan about his brother. One day, surely, that would have to come out. He missed Taropat and wondered how he was getting on, alone in the Forest of Bree. Shan considered writing to him about Tayven, but felt that was a piece of news he’d have to deliver personally. He didn’t want Taropat to be alone when he found out.
One afternoon, General Tuya had business outside the city and Shan was left to his own devices. He decided to meditate in one of the gardens and was sitting in silent contemplation when he was disturbed by a handmaiden of Neferishu’s. ‘The queen desires your presence,’ she said.
Shan wondered then whether the general’s absence had been arranged.
The queen received him in her water garden, where she sat in a boat, eating chunks of fruit. The garden was inundated, for the great river was in flood. ‘Tonight,’ she said, ‘A reception will take place here at the palace, which I wish you to attend.’
He bowed. ‘It will be my pleasure.’ The message could have been delivered by hand.
‘We are alone. We never have been before, so I made it happen.’ She gestured for him to join her in the boat and when he had settled himself carefully against some cushions, said, ‘I wish to know about you. What is your full name?’
‘Shan. The honourable Shan Sathe.’
The queen examined him. ‘Tell me of your origins.’
He shrugged. ‘It is hardly interesting, your majesty. I was the son of a Bree nobleman, Sir Rupert, who was killed during a Magravandian attack on our community. Despite my blood, I had what you might call a very humble beginning.’
‘Then why are you here in Akahana now?’
Shan felt the queen’s interest was more than simple curiosity. He spoke with care. ‘After the Magravandians came, I needed a place to hide for a while. A magician took me as an apprentice. It is through him that I am here.’
‘That is interesting. Tell me about the magician. Tell me what he taught you.’
The queen’s gaze was fixed, compelling. Shan could imagine a man’s will being swept away beneath it. ‘I was taught how to read the portents in coincidence. I learned about the secret properties of plants and trees. I learned about the dance of life, the essence that permeates everything. I learned how to shield myself from the emanations of others.’
Neferishu recoiled only slightly. ‘Emanations? What are these?’
‘The emanations are comprised of the same essence that causes life to be. Every living person is full of it. It is the wellspring of their emotions, their thoughts. Sometimes, we need to guard ourselves against the feelings and thoughts of others.’
Neferishu looked thoughtful. Clearly, she did not regard this as something that would pertain to her own predations. ‘That is true. Can you teach me this technique?’
‘I am not a master, only a student, your majesty. I have neither the knowledge nor experience to teach others.’
‘That’s what the teachers say,’ the queen said. ‘I expect it’s to keep you humble. I’ve been on at Darris for years to show me some of his trickery, but he always squirms away somehow. Not you, Shan. I feel you could teach me adequately. I have a desire to know more about magic, the magic of the western world. It is different to ours.’
‘I would have said Mewtish magic was superior,’ Shan said.
Neferishu shrugged. ‘It is different,’ she said, ‘that is all. Anyone who says their own particular knowledge is the best of all is a fool, and can learn nothing. They will end their days in ignorance, when they could have known so much.’
Shan nodded. ‘Yes, that’s very true.’
‘The Mewtish priests know everything,’ Neferishu said. ‘They have studied the secrets of every corner of the world. They store it in a hidden library, deep beneath the desert sands. They will not teach me. They will not teach anyone but their own. It is how they keep their knowledge exclusive. I am a queen, and they bow to me, but they will not give me the means to become as powerful as they are.’
A glimmering of light came into Shan’s mind then. He knew for sure now that this interview was about rather more than seduction. ‘Many students must have come to General Tuya from overseas across the years. Have you spoken to none of them before?’
Neferishu pulled a sour face. ‘Yes. Most of them are dour creatures, ascetics. You are not. I would like to meet your teacher, I think. Is he handsome, or old and withered?’
‘Handsome,’ said Shan, ‘at least one of them is. I have three mentors. Another is an old man, as you described, while the third is a woman, both strange and beautiful.’
‘You are lucky,’ said Neferishu.
Shan could tell she meant it.
‘The world is in flux,’ said the queen. ‘Everyone with a smattering of esoteric knowledge can feel it. The wisest are making preparations. I consider myself wise. I must modernise my weaponry.’
‘Surely you’re safe,’ said Shan. ‘You have many allies, the emperor among them, or so I’m told. Whatever happens to the world, Mewt is sacrosanct. It is the spiritual heart of the planet. I’ve been told this many times.’
‘Leonid will not be emperor forever. He is temperate. Whoever follows him may not be.’
‘I feel sure that no one on this earth would violate Mewt,’ said Shan. ‘If I were emperor, I would cherish it above all other countries.’
‘If you were emperor?’ said Neferishu with music in her voice. She laughed. ‘Let us speak frankly. If Almorante succeeds, he will bleed Mewt dry of knowledge. He will find the hidden library, of this I have no doubt, and blood may be spilled because of it. He has no respect for our traditions, only thirst for knowledge. The same applies to Bayard, except I feel he will also want to sit upon the sun throne of this country. He may even force me to marry him. Ugh, what a thought! As for Gastern, he is blind to every god but Madragore, and will seek to impose the religion of fire more stringently about the world. None of these possibilities appeal to me, but I know there are others. I can feel them. Cabals of magi discuss them and the vibrations of those conversations make my skin prickle. Could this refer to the emanations you told me about?’
‘Most certainly,’ said Shan.
‘I want you to trust me,’ Neferishu said softly. ‘I have many friends, Shan, and I know they will seek to protect me, but the one thing that would give me the most protection, they will never give to me. I want you to tell me what you know. You do know things, I can feel it. Who does Lord Maycarpe wish to see succeed Leonid, for example?’
‘I am not sure,’ Shan answered. ‘All he says to me is that he will give his loyalty to whoever wins the fight.’
‘They all say that,’ Neferishu said bitterly, ‘but I don’t believe it. I’m not sure I believe you.’
‘I speak the truth,’ Shan said. ‘You have my word, your majesty.’
‘Then Maycarpe is lying to you too,’ Neferishu said. ‘Perhaps you should delve for the truth yourself.’
The queen’s voice reverberated through Shan’s head as he walked back to his room in the palace. He could not hear words, only the sound, a soft shushing like the water against the boards of her little b
oat in the garden. The world was a web of secrets, an immense web, populated by innumerable scuttling spiders. The spiders were small, but somewhere, Shan felt sure, there was a big spider who could remove all the others if it wanted to. Thremius and Taropat had sent him here to learn martial arts, yet he was certain that was only a small facet of the knowledge that flowed to him. He had climbed a delicate thread onto the web, a spiderling. Maycarpe had noticed him, and so had Neferishu. Perhaps this was dangerous. He was still unclear about what Maycarpe intended for the future. He had plans, and Shan was sure the magus wanted him to be part of them. Unfortunately, Maycarpe kept silent on the matter, deftly deflecting direct questions.
In his room, Shan found a note from Merlan: ‘Are you going to the reception at the palace tonight? If you’re not, contact Maycarpe the instant you get this, and make sure he takes you with him. You will see why later.’
Shan put down the note. Golden afternoon sunlight made a pattern of squares on his rug. The city seemed so quiet, dozing in the heat. Yet somewhere, threads were being pulled. He could feel it within him, small, secret tugs. He thought of Taropat then and wondered whether, tonight, he would break his vow and tell Merlan everything.
Neferishu’s soiree was held in the Court of Cats, which was an area of the palace where the goddess Purryah had allegedly appeared to one of the queen’s ancestors. Tall slim statues of seated felines flanked the court, interspersed with fernpalm trees whose delicate foliage fluttered in the warm evening breeze. A pool in the centre seethed with huge, whiskered cat-fish. The roof, of glass, could be winched open, which now it was. Awnings had been erected around the sides of the court and here Neferishu’s servants had laid out a sumptuous supper of river fruits; plump crawfish in sauce, slivers of exquisite smoked fish, roasted water weed tubers peppered with tart aromatic nuts and glazed with honey.
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