The Palace of Impossible Dreams (36 page)

Declan watched her leave without saying a word. Once she was gone, he folded his hands behind his head to ponder the stupidity of what he had just done.

What had possessed him to question her like that? To question his good fortune?

He had, for a fleeting moment, had everything he ever wanted, in his arms, willing and wanting him . . .

And then he'd pushed her away for . . .
what
?

Declan cursed himself in every language he knew. He had, quite possibly, ruined any chance he had with Arkady.

Why? For an assurance she loved him? When had
that
ever mattered?

Declan couldn't think of words to describe what kind of fool he was. Even more painful was the knowledge that when she was astride him and he was drowning in the taste of her, for the briefest of moments—in what he feared would be a very long, tormented life—he'd been utterly and completely happy.

“Ah, you're awake, I see.”

Arryl was in the workroom, pouring water from the large, cast-iron kettle into a deep tub filled with molluscs. There was no sign of Tiji and her chameleon friend.

The immortal looked up from her work as Arkady entered the workroom. She looked no older than twenty-four or twenty-five. By Arkady's reckoning, she had to be at least ten thousand years old.

“Did you sleep well?”

Arkady nodded. “Like the dead.”

The immortal smiled. “Well, I wouldn't know about that. But I know how exhausting magical healing can be, for both the person wielding the Tide, as well as the recipient. I'm not surprised it wiped you out for a time. Is Declan awake?”

“I'm not sure he slept.”

Arryl didn't seem surprised. “Did you want some tea? Feel free to help yourself in the kitchen.”

“Thank you, my lady. What I'd really like is some decent clothing, if you can spare it.”

Arryl cast her gaze over Arkady's slave skirt and nodded. “I don't blame you, dear. You're fortunate—or perhaps, unfortunate—to cast a rather striking figure dressed as a Senestran slave. It must have caused you quite a bit of trouble in Port Traeker.”

Cydne's orderly, Geriko, and his endless compliments about her breasts—not to mention his unsubtle hints about sharing his bunk—immediately leapt to mind. She nodded. “That's one of the reasons I latched on to Cydne Medura.”

“He was the lesser evil?”

“So it seemed at the time,” Arkady said, taking a seat at the work table.

“
That
assessment proved to be spectacularly wrong, didn't it?”

There was no way to deny Arryl's accusation, so Arkady didn't try. She wasn't sure what time it was. Not long after dawn, she guessed, wondering if Tiji had come back to the Outpost or spent the night in the wetlands. She sighed as she remembered what she'd done to Tiji's new-found people.
Tides, how many did we kill?

Arryl didn't seem too concerned with apportioning blame, fortunately. She finished filling the bowl with boiling water and returned the kettle to the small stove in the corner of the room. Having been born and bred in Lebec, where freshwater pearls were one of the province's major industries, Arkady recognised the tools of Arryl's trade. She was harvesting nacre, the iridescent lining of oyster shells, known in Glaeba as mother-of-pearl.

The room was filled with sacks of mollusc shell, containers of beads and tiles and shelves of beautifully wrought trinkets, waiting to be set into silver or gold for the ladies of Port Traeker. There was another table against the wall that looked suspiciously like an apothecary's workbench, which seemed curious. The nacre made sense, though. Arkady remembered Cayal telling her once that Medwen, in particular, was a glass craftswoman of some renown. Apparently, during this low Tide, she'd decided to add the craft of making nacre jewellery to her repertoire.

Arryl smiled at her reassuringly as she studied the workshop. “I'll speak to the chameleon elders. I'm sure we can convince them you were as much a victim in this unfortunate affair as they were.”

She frowned at the immortal. “Will they be all right, my lady? The chameleons, I mean. Cydne was right about one thing: he does come from a very important and wealthy family. They won't let his execution go unavenged when they learn how he died.”

“Don't worry about it,” Arryl said, stirring the molluscs with a long stick to ensure they were completely submerged. “Medwen and Ambria are already on their way to Port Traeker to explain to his family and the Physicians' Guild too, I suppose, the circumstances surrounding the tragic accident that killed the scion of House Medura. They'll deal with any potential trouble his family might cause.”

“I didn't think the Lady Medwen, or the Lady Ambria, was that magically gifted.”

Arryl laughed.

“Did I say something funny, my lady?”

“Who told you that? Cayal, I suppose? Tides, that man sees the world through such self-absorbed eyes.”

“I'm sorry, but what I meant—”

“You meant you don't believe either of my immortal sisters has the power to wreak the sort of vengeance Cayal indulges in when he wants to bend the world to his will,” Arryl said, not letting Arkady finish her apology. “And I laughed, Arkady, because you seem to assume that's the only
thing we do. Did it never occur to you that ten thousand years of experience teaches one skills
other
than the wanton destruction of civilisation as we know it whenever we don't get our own way?”

“To be honest, my lady, I don't think I did.” Arkady smiled sheepishly. She knew better than to make assumptions like that.

What happened to Arkady the reasoning, careful academic
? she wondered.
Did I lose her along with my clothes and any morals I once used to own?

Arryl appeared to be quite forgiving. “Then let that be the
first
thing you do now the Tide is on the turn, Arkady. Start thinking about us immortals as people, not only gods or monsters.”

“And what is Declan now?” she asked curiously. “A god or a monster?”

The immortal shrugged and threw a handful of salt into the bowl from a small sack on the shelf behind her. “That's really up to him, I suppose. I imagine, like the rest of us, he'll end up a little bit of both.”

Arkady looked at her uncomprehendingly. “Declan's not
evil.
”

“Not to you, perhaps, but I'd hazard a guess it wouldn't be too hard to find plenty of people who disagree with you. He was the King of Glaeba's spymaster, wasn't he? At least that's what Tiji told Ambria.” When Arkady didn't deny the accusation, she nodded, her point proved. “Trust me, he didn't hold down
that
job because he was filled with the milk of human kindness. Your friend may be a good and noble man to you, Arkady, he may even believe that of himself, but based on his past, I'd not be holding out any great hopes for his future as an immortal.”

Arkady shook her head. She couldn't imagine Declan doing the sort of terrible things Cayal and his ilk had done. “You don't know him, my lady. He wouldn't deliberately hurt anyone.” She knew it was a lie, even as she said it. Tides, he'd just cut
her
to the quick with his callous rejection.

And Arryl was right about Declan and his role as the King's spymaster too. He'd been frighteningly good at his job.

The immortal seemed to know Arkady was lying to herself as much anyone else. “You're hoping he'll only use his powers for good, aren't you?” she said. “Tides, there is
nothing
more dangerous than a misguided soul thinking he's doing good.”

“I think Declan knows enough about the immortals to understand the danger,” she said, not sure why she was defending him. It wasn't as if he'd done anything to deserve her loyalty lately.
Except perhaps saving me from death by flesh-eating ants. And healing my wounds
 . . .
dropping everything to
track me halfway across the world to find me
 . . . And then another thought occurred to her.
Tides, what will the Cabal do when they find out?

“Declan's got a fair idea about what it is to be immortal, my lady. And what it can do to a person.”

Arryl shook her head. “No, Arkady, he doesn't. He hasn't even begun to understand what's happened to him and you'll be long dead before he does. And the trouble is, he's not
just
immortal. He's a Tide Lord, which means he has the power to do just as much damage as any of those other fools.”

Typical
, Arkady thought.
Declan never does anything by halves.

“He can learn, my lady. And he has the benefit of seeing what immortality has done to others.”

“He still sees the world through mortal eyes, Arkady. Believe me, immortal vision is quite different to the way
you
see the world.” She picked up her mixing stick and stirred the salt into the molluscs for a moment and then she put it down and sighed. “I hate to say it, but probably the safest thing for him to do would be to find Lukys.”

“Why?”

“Lukys is the only one of us who's ever been willing to spare the time to teach another immortal anything other than a lesson in what happens when you cross them. I don't know if it's because he's generous or because he has an ulterior motive, but whatever the reason, he's helped all of us at one time or another. He's probably the only one who can help Declan understand what he's become.”

“He told Cayal he'd found a way for him to die.”

Arryl shrugged. “I'm sure Cayal believes that, Arkady, but it doesn't make it real. Lukys's games are more sophisticated than most, but they're still games. Declan will need to be careful.”

“Why does he need to have anything to do with any of you?”

Arryl smiled knowingly. “He won't be able to avoid it. And I'd rather have a High Tide come and go that didn't involve millions of deaths and humanity having to start from scratch all over again.”

For all that she was mad at him, Arryl's insistence that Declan was likely to turn into something as dangerous as Jaxyn or Cayal was starting to wear on Arkady. She felt she had earned to the right to be mad at Declan, but the Tides help anybody else game enough to think ill of him. “You don't know he'd do anything of the kind, my lady. He may decide not to use the Tide at all.”

Arryl laughed sceptically. “Not use the Tide? Look at yourself, woman. You should be dead and there's not a mark on you. Declan can't help himself. He probably swore every which way from yesterday that he'd never touch the Tide. And what happens? First time someone he loves is in danger he's drawing on it like there's no tomorrow.” She threw her hands up, as if Arkady's ignorance appalled her. “He healed you almost instantly; don't you understand that, Arkady? Even I can't do that, and I've been practising for thousands of years. And I'll bet he doesn't have the faintest notion of how he did it, either. He just willed it to happen and there you are, all nice and shiny new again.” She picked up a large wooden disk and placed it over the top of the tub to cover it, shaking her head. “Tides, it's the well-intentioned ones that cause the most trouble.”

She was talking from experience, Arkady suspected, not theoretically, and it intrigued her. Arryl, of all the immortals, was the one credited with having some humanity left; the kindest of a cruel race. What had she done to cause such regret in her voice, even after all this time?

“Are you talking about Cayal?” Arkady prompted. “About how he extinguished the Eternal Flame?”

Arryl looked up. “Told you about that, did he? Or his version of it, at least. But no, I'm not talking about Cayal's rage. I speak of a classic example of how the highway to oblivion is paved with the well-meaning deeds of noble fools.”

“What happened?” Arkady asked.

Somewhat to Arkady's amazement, the immortal told her . . .

If you know how Cayal was made immortal, then you probably know what happened next. He left with Tryan to win his beloved Gabriella back. The failure of that mission, the subsequent destruction of Lakesh and indeed all of Kordana, devastated him.

We heard about the destruction of Kordana, of course. Felt it too for a time. That much smoke and ash in the atmosphere affects the whole planet, no matter how localised the source of the trouble. And we
all
heard about it. When he got back, Tryan couldn't wait to tell us what they'd done.

Cayal was less anxious to brag about it. In fact, it was years before anybody in Magreth saw him again.

I wasn't there, so I can't tell you exactly what happened in Kordana, but I'm sure it was the first time Cayal truly appreciated the power that was his to wield and I'm certain it frightened the living daylights out of him too.

Unfortunately, it didn't stop him wanting to do something else noble with his power. Perhaps he wanted to makes amends. But two global catastrophes don't make the first one better. But Cayal, being Cayal, had to find that out the hard way.

I'm not sure what it is with some men, but they seem to think they were given immortality for a divine purpose; that there is some reason for their very existence beyond the ken of ordinary men. Brynden suffers the same affliction, thinking his immortality was awarded for some higher purpose. Jaxyn thinks so too, although he's far less likely to admit it to anyone these days, least of all himself.

I felt Cayal before I saw him. He's a powerful Tide Lord and his presence on the Tide is unmistakable. It grows with time too; the more you draw on the Tide the more you affect the Tide around you. That's why we can't always tell if a new immortal is going to be a Tide Lord. You have to dip your toe in the water a few times, so to speak; learn how far out you can swim before you discover how deep you can go and still return with your sanity intact.