The Palace of Impossible Dreams (38 page)

“You speak as if Euland was no more than a lifeless landmass. There were nearly twenty thousand people living there, Cayal.”

“Do you think I should do it?”

It took me a moment to realise he wasn't talking about visiting Euland, but Pellys's desire to be decapitated. “Pellys is disturbed and depressed, Cayal. Why do you want to buy into his troubles?”

“Maybe I want to know if it works.”

“Why?” I asked. “Do you think there'll come a time when you need to be . . . what did you call it . . . born again?”

He smiled. “You can never have too much knowledge, Arryl. Lukys says that all the time.”

I didn't think anything about this was amusing. “That doesn't mean you should cut off the head of a man who thinks you're his friend, Cayal, just to satisfy your morbid curiosity.”

“Not even if it means putting an end to that friend's pain?”

It's hard to argue with logic like that. And it was clear Cayal had all but made up his mind. “You're going to do it, aren't you?”

“Maybe . . .”

“Don't lie to me.”

“All right, then yes, I'm thinking about it. But why are you looking at me like that? Tides, you've seen him, Arryl. When he's not destroying entire countries full of unsuspecting mortals, he's pining after Syrolee, looking for a replacement for her, or hanging around here killing your ornamental fish for entertainment. Would it be so cruel to give him a fresh start? A chance to begin again without any of the baggage of the past?” He rose to his feet, offering me his hand. I accepted and let him help me up. “Far from hurting him, it might be the biggest favour one friend can do for another.”

“It might not work,” I warned.

“But if it does?”

I hesitated, tempted by the prospect of a new beginning. I didn't want to die and had no desire to forget my past—and I still don't—but there's something frightfully seductive about the idea of knowing that if worse comes to worst, we might have a way out.

“You'd have to do it quickly.”

“I know.”

I searched his face, but in the darkness I couldn't see anything in his eyes other than concern for Pellys's pain, and the idea that he might be able to relieve it.

Tides, it's the ones with the best intentions who always bring us down.

“The others won't like this.”

“I won't tell them if you don't.” He smiled encouragingly. “It'll just be between the three of us. The rest of our immortal brethren need never know.”

In hindsight, I like to think he sounded convincing, but the truth is, I
wanted
to believe him. I know the pain Pellys suffered and the idea of relieving it made me feel like I'd be doing something noble too.

So I agreed to go along with Pellys's absurd request and the very next day—before any of us could have second thoughts—Cayal took an axe, and with Pellys's active cooperation, he cleaved his head from his shoulders with a single, powerful blow.

Almost immediately the ground began to shake. As Pellys's decapitated head rolled across the terrace, we could feel the swelling Tide. I think it occurred to both of us that at that moment, Pellys's body wasn't just magically repairing itself; with no controlling centre, his body was randomly drawing on the Tide. There was no restraint, nothing to temper the swell. I felt Cayal trying to counteract the force, but there's no way any sane Tide Lord can draw that much power to themselves deliberately. There was no focus, no point he could attack, and no way to make Pellys stop. Within minutes the ground was shaking so hard we could no longer stand. I heard a crack and realised the temple was starting to go. The waterfall beside the terrace had begun to boil. Clouds were building up in the sky at an unnatural pace as he unconsciously began to affect the weather. In the distance, a long dormant volcano began to creak and groan as Pellys unknowingly woke it from its slumber . . .

Tides, even now I shudder to recall it. It took less than a day for his head to grow back, and he knew nothing when it did—not even how to speak.

By the time Cayal made him understand he must stop what he was doing, Magreth no longer existed.

Our good intentions destroyed the entire country and the aftermath plunged Amyrantha into anarchy. The twenty thousand souls Pellys destroyed in Euland proved pitiful by comparison.

We never thought, Cayal nor I, of what a regrowing mind, blank, empty, and able to draw on the Tide, might be capable of. We never realised he'd have no memory of asking for oblivion afterward. Tides, until the ground began to splinter under our feet and the volcanoes began to rumble and spew, we never even imagined what all that undirected magical energy could do.

We thought only of Pellys's pain; of being able to banish it for him. And selfishly, that maybe, one day, we might be able to ease our own.

“So your good intentions almost destroyed the world,” Declan said. “Is that what you're trying to tell us?”

Arryl nodded, her gaze fixed on Declan. She'd spied him coming into the workroom not long after she began talking, he knew. Arkady didn't seem to notice him, however, and not wishing to interrupt Arryl, he'd stayed leaning by the door until she'd finished her tale.

“Meaning well won't protect you from unintended consequences, Declan. It's important to remember that.”

Arkady glanced over her shoulder at him, but her gaze was cold. “Good morning, Declan. I didn't realise you were up.”

Tides, she is so angry with me.

Arryl looked from one to the other, sensing the tension between them, but not understanding the reason. Declan wasn't surprised she looked confused. Last night, he and Arkady had been the best of friends and she'd probably thought them lovers. Now Arkady's voice dripped icicles when she spoke to him.

“Arryl was suggesting you seek out Lukys,” Arkady added. “Apparently you're going to need lessons on how to deal with your new-found immortal powers.”

“Why?” Declan asked, directing the question to Arryl. “I've no interest in becoming
one of the gang
, my lady. Far from it.”

“You
are
one of the gang, Declan,” she said, “whether you like it or not. And I'm not suggesting this lightly. This isn't about what you want, or even your ego. This is about learning to control something that will soon be uncontrollable. You need guidance.”

“Maralyce didn't seem to think so.”

“Maralyce hadn't seen your little trick with the instant healing, I suspect,” Arryl said. “I'm quite certain, had she realised you were capable of something like that, she'd have taught you herself.”

Declan shook his head. “I'm not interested in socialising with any more immortals, my lady. Running into you was an accident, and while I appreciate your hospitality, I'm not interested in becoming friends.”

“You'll have to excuse Declan's manners, my lady,” Arkady said. “He's trying his damndest to ensure he has no friends at all this morning.”

Arryl looked at Arkady curiously, as if wondering about her harsh tone, and then shrugged. “Well, that's his choice, I suppose. Did you still want me to find you something a little less exposed to wear? You're taller than me, but there should be something in Ambria's room that will fit you.”

Arkady nodded and rose to her feet. “Thank you, my lady. I'd like that very much.”

Arkady pushed past Declan and followed Arryl back through the kitchen, leaving Declan alone in the workroom.

He turned to look at the kitchen, wondering if he should eat something. Despite not having eaten for several days, he was neither hungry nor thirsty, something he'd still not gotten used to. Declan ate and drank now out of habit, rather from necessity. Rather than hang around the house, he walked through the cluttered workroom and stepped out onto the veranda.

A faint mist hovered over the channel, one he expected would burn off as soon as the sun rose fully. The morning was loud, filled with the chirruping of millions of insects and the calls of birds yelling to each other across the swamp. Declan let the noise wash over him, feeling the edge of the Tide lapping at his consciousness. It had been gnawing at his awareness like an annoying tic ever since he'd spied Arkady tied to that tree, covered in ants.

Arryl was right about that much. Declan had no idea what he'd done or how he'd done it. He vaguely remembered thinking he needed to get the ants off Arkady when he found her, a thought that moments later had turned to a series of violent waves rising unexpectedly out of the channel to splash over her, washing the ants away. He remembered berating himself for being too late as he cut her down. He vaguely remembered wishing he could make her better . . .

And then the Tide rose in him and she was healed . . . and he'd alerted every flanking immortal in the vicinity that he was in Watershed Falls.

Declan caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned to find Tiji and Azquil, walking along the shoreline toward the Outpost.

Oh, great
 . . .
Tiji's back
 . . .
as if I don't have enough trouble going on with Arkady
 . . .

Tiji and Azquil were holding hands. Or maybe they weren't. On closer inspection, it looked like Azquil was ever so subtly dragging a very reluctant Tiji toward the Outpost.

He waited on the veranda until they stopped a few feet from him, on the grassy hummock below the house.

“Good morning, my lord,” Azquil said politely.

“I'm not highborn, Azquil,” Declan said. “You've no need to address me as if I am.”

“You are an immortal, my lord,” the chameleon pointed out. “I could not conceive of addressing you any other way.”

Tides, but I'm going to get sick of this
 . . .

“Good morning, Tiji.”

She glared at him and said nothing.

“Tiji would like to apologise, my lord,” Azquil said. “She did not mean to act the way she did last night.”

“The hell I didn't,” Tiji muttered under her breath, but still loud enough for Declan to hear.

“It's all right, Azquil,” he said, pushing off the railing. He took the two steps down from the veranda and walked toward them. “I understand why she's mad at me. And I don't really blame her. It'd be nice if she gave me a chance to explain, though, before she starts cursing the very ground I walk on.”

“Don't talk about me like I'm not here.”

“Then stop glaring at me like that.”

Azquil tugged on Tiji's hand until she was standing in front of Declan. “She'll be happy to listen to you, my lord.” He turned to Tiji. “
Won't
you?”

Somewhat to Declan's surprise, Tiji nodded.

Azquil let go of her hand and stepped back. “I must speak with the Lady Arryl,” he said, “if you and Tiji want to take this opportunity to talk.”

Without waiting for either of them to reply, Azquil headed into the Outpost, leaving them alone.

Declan watched him leave and then turned to Tiji with a faint smile, hoping to make light of this awkward situation. “You never struck me as the sort of girl who likes the forceful type.”

“Put up with
you
for long enough, didn't I?” she said angrily.

Fair comment.
“So, are you and the chameleon lad . . . you know . . .?”

“Mind your own business. And it's not like you don't have plenty of business to mind now you're one of
them.
”

Her hostility was starting to wear a little thin. “Tides, Tiji, can you cut
me a
little
slack? I didn't know this was going to happen to me, and I'd give anything to reverse it, but apparently that's not an option.”

She turned from him and began to walk away from the house. “So you say.”

He fell into step beside her, wondering if this ability to alienate every friend he'd ever owned was something newly acquired with immortality, or a gift he'd always been in possession of. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don't want you to say anything,” she said.

“Tiji . . .”

She stopped and looked up at him, the pain in her eyes almost too much to bear. “All right, Declan, do you know what I want you to tell me?”

“What?”

“What did you get?”

He gave her a puzzled look. The question made no sense.

“What are you talking about?”

“What did you get out of this, Declan? What did they offer you? I would have thought you knew enough about the immortals to know the cost of eternal life. So what was it? What did they promise you . . .” Her voice trailed off as she looked past him and her eyes fixed on the veranda of the Outpost. Azquil was standing near the door, talking to Arryl, who'd been joined by a much more demurely clothed Arkady. Tiji studied the trio on the veranda for a moment and then shook her head. “Tides, you are so pathetic.”

“
What
?”

“Is
that
what they offered you?” She pointed to the veranda.

“I have no idea what you mean, Tiji.”

“Your girl up there,” she said, her voice full of contempt. “Is that what it took for Declan Hawkes to betray everything he ever believed in? The chance to finally have the girl of his dreams?”

He stared at her uncomprehendingly for a moment, until her accusation began to make sense. “You think I traded my mortality for a chance to be with Arkady?”

“Can't think of any other reason you'd do it.”

“Tides, Tiji, I never had a choice. I was caught in the fire that destroyed Herino Prison and woke up immortal. You can't possibly think I sought this out deliberately. Or that I want anything to do with the immortals.”

She frowned at him, unconvinced. “So you were made immortal by accident, eh? What happened to that whole Eternal Flame legend?”