The Palace of Impossible Dreams (48 page)

What are you up to now, I wonder?

“I didn't want to wait, Professor Fawk. What do you have to show me?”

“Were you looking for something in particular, my lady?”

“I'm interested in any possessions you've found.”

Professor Fawk led the way forward and walked further into the large pavilion where the tables were covered in artefacts that, Warlock supposed, had been recovered from the site.

“We've counted twenty-two skulls,” the professor informed his patron, as she strolled past the tables, stopping occasionally to examine an item of interest, “ranging from children to adults. We assume it's some sort of mass grave, although it seems some of the bodies were bound together, which is fascinating.”

“Maybe they committed mass suicide,” Elyssa suggested, not looking up from the broken wooden doll that had caught her interest. “They could have all jumped off the cliff together.”

The professor treated Elyssa to a patronising smile, which—fortunately for him—she didn't notice. “My lady, such speculation is best left to the experts.”

Elyssa put down the wooden doll and picked up a small wooden disk from a pile of several matching disks. From a distance, Warlock thought they might be old coins, but then he realised they were buttons from some long-dead human's rotted-away-to-nothing shirt.

“Have you found any religious artefacts?”

The professor shook his head. “I'm not sure what you would define as a religious artefact, my lady.”

“Icons, statues of the Tide Lords . . .”

“Nothing, my lady, except an old set of Tarot cards.”

Elyssa's head snapped up. “You found the cards? Show me?”

Warlock couldn't help thinking this was what Elyssa had been hoping to hear. In fact, she seemed so excited he began to wonder if it wasn't the purpose of this entire expedition. If Elyssa was the patron of this dig, if she was funding it, then it was probably because they were looking for something on her behalf.

How had she known where they needed to look?

Because there was a pile of bodies at the bottom of the cliff? Was she right when she suggested this wasn't a mass grave but the site of a mass suicide?

There was a good chance, Warlock realised with a leaden heart, that
Elyssa knew where to find the bodies because she was the one who'd sent them there.

The Glaeban professor led Elyssa to another table near the back of the pavilion. On this one lay a large deck of cards. Although they were rotted around the edges and faded with age, they'd been protected by the now very fragile leather case in which they'd been stored. The professor pushed aside the young man working on slowly peeling the cards apart, so that Elyssa could see.

“This is it?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“How is it they're still intact?”

“There is a small depression at the base of the cliff, my lady,” the assistant explained. “It seems quite soon after the bodies were placed there, a rockfall sealed them in.”

“It's been most fortunate for us,” Fawk added. “One would not normally expect to find something made of paper wrapped in leather to have survived so long in less ideal conditions.”

“Is the whole deck there?” she asked, eyeing the cards with awe.

“As far as we can tell.”

Trying to look past her shoulder without being too obvious about it, Warlock thought he might explode, trying to contain his curiosity. After a moment, Elyssa turned and beckoned him closer. “Do you know what this is, Cecil?”

“A Tide Lord Tarot, my lady.”

Elyssa shook her head. “It's much more than that,” she said. “It's a Lore Tarot.”

Even Warlock had heard of the Lore Tarot. It was—supposedly—the true story of the Tide Lords, not the romanticised version peddled in the markets of every city on Amyrantha, which bored noblewomen used to tell each other's fortunes. A Lore Tarot was something precious, and usually only found in the possession of a Crasii elder. Or the Guardian of the Lore, the human keeper of the Tide Lord history—one of the few in the Cabal entrusted with the truth.

But how had it finished up here? In a cave at the bottom of a cliff amid a pile of bones?

And how had Elyssa known where to look for it?

The professor seemed impressed by her knowledge, and smiled at her
the way a professional would smile at an enthusiastic amateur. “You are absolutely right, my lady. It is indeed a Lore Tarot.”

“It's beautiful,” Elyssa said.

“We've never found a complete set before now, my lady. This is valuable beyond words. I trust your investment has paid off?”

“More than you know,” she said, not taking her eyes off the fragile cards. “How long before you have them all separated out?”

“It's very delicate work, my lady,” the professor told her with a frown. “It could be another two or three weeks.”

Elyssa pursed her lips unhappily as she debated, no doubt, the advisability of insisting the job be finished sooner against the risk of damaging the cards. “When they are separated, before you show them to another soul, you are to bring them to me,” the immortal instructed.

“But, my lady . . .”

“I am not asking, Professor Fawk, I am ordering you to do this.” She looked around the camp meaningfully and then fixed her gaze on the professor. “I paid for this dig. I am paying your way and if it wasn't for me, your pathetic little university in Lebec would still be begging the crown for money to keep its doors open.”

Warlock stared at the professor in surprise.
This man is from Lebec? Tides, I wonder if that means he knew the Duchess Arkady?
She was a historian too working at the university in Lebec.

Had the Duke of Lebec's fall affected so many?

He supposed it might. Stellan Desean had been known as a philanthropist, after all. It wasn't hard to imagine his money had supported a university in his city. In fact, it almost had to be the case. A city the size of Lebec would not normally have its own place of higher learning without some serious support from its provincial duke. And if that was the case, then it wasn't hard to imagine how Elyssa had been able to secure the services of a reputable academic like Andre Fawk for her excavation. With Stellan Desean no longer the Duke of Lebec, the university would have been starved for funds.

Elyssa's money must have looked very attractive.

Right up until now, when he found out the real cost.

“My lady, the Caelish authorities were very insistent about the fate of any historical—”

“What Caelish authorities?” Elyssa scoffed. “I am all the Caelish
authority
you need. My brother is married to the queen, in case it slipped your mind.”

Fawk, to his credit, wasn't so easily dissuaded. “Be that as it may, my lady, this site is of significant historical interest to the people of Caelum.”

“Until I told you about it, not you, the people of Caelum, or any other pitiful sod you care to name, even knew this significant historical site was here. So, I will take whatever I want from your wretched little dig, professor—the dig that
I
am paying for—and there's not a damned thing you can do to stop me.”

“These cards belong to Caelum, my lady,” the professor insisted. “If you want a souvenir, then we can find you something much less fragile. But these cards . . . you can't sell them. Unless they have been authenticated . . .”

“I don't intend to sell them,” she said. “But I do intend to have them in my possession within the fortnight.” Elyssa turned to Warlock. “And to make certain I have them, I'm leaving Cecil here to watch over them.”

“There is really no need . . .”

“I believe there is,” she said. “I think the moment my back is turned, you're going to try to smuggle those cards out of here in some misguided attempt to preserve Caelum's history. Or enrich Lebec University's rapidly dwindling coffers. No. Cecil stays. He will watch over these cards and any attempt to harm them, or remove them, and he will tear your throat out. Won't you, Cecil?”

“To serve you is the reason I breathe, my lady.”

She smiled and reached up to pat the side of his face. “There's a good boy, Cecil.” Then she turned to the historian. “Are we clear, now?”

Professor Fawk glared at Warlock and then shook his head reluctantly. “I shall have them delivered to you as soon as they are separated, my lady.”

“Then the world is as it should be,” Elyssa said with a smile, at complete odds with her dire threat to have Warlock tear the throat out of any man who defied her. She turned to leave the tent, but Fawk called her back, helpless to do anything about her order, but furious, nonetheless.

“What do you want with them?”

She turned to look at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“From the moment you first approached me with the location of this site, you've been talking about finding a Tarot. You knew these bodies were here. I've a feeling you knew we'd find the Tarot deck too. Do you know
what happened in this place, my lady? Do you know how these people died?”

Warlock was expecting Elyssa to deny any knowledge of the event, but she surprised him. “A handful of mere mortals defied a Tide Lord,” she said in a voice that chilled every man in the tent. “And it would serve you well to remember their fate, professor, before you do the same.”

It was just on sunset when the first of the House Medura ships arrived in Watershed Falls. Arkady didn't see them dock, but she saw their passengers, sure enough, after they landed, heading down the street toward the cottage that had so recently been Cydne's clinic.

A full troop of marines armed with swords and truncheons, wearing the distinctive bottle green of House Pardura, marched on the house in the rapidly gathering darkness. Leading the marines was a heavyset man wearing an expensive waistcoat and a heavily embroidered jacket that must be killing him in this heat. Walking beside him, under a parasol carried by a canine Crasii slave, was Cydne's young wife, Olegra.

“Tides, that's all I need.”

“You know this man?” Azquil asked. They stood on the veranda, watching the delegation approach. Arkady was standing at the railing. Azquil stood behind her. Between the shadows and his natural ability to fade into his surroundings, he blended almost perfectly with the wall.

“I know the girl. She's Cydne's wife.” Arkady was amazed at how calm she sounded. She didn't feel it. Her stomach was churning and she'd broken into a cold sweat.

Despite their assurances that they would be in Watershed Falls before she was in any real danger, there was no sign of the immortals. Everyone else in the village had wisely made themselves scarce too. For all intents and purposes, Arkady was facing the wrath of House Medura on her own.

“Does this woman know you?” Azquil asked softly behind her.

“Better than that. She actively despises me.”

“Then you should be able to use that to stall her,” he said.

Arkady didn't reply. The delegation had reached the cottage.

Taking a deep breath, she turned and walked down the two short steps to the grass to meet them. The troop fell into place with a clatter of metal and shuffling of many booted feet, followed by some more shuffling in the rear, as someone was shoved forward. The man in the jacket made several hand signals, and some of the troops dispersed, probably to search the house and its surrounds. She hoped Azquil and Tiji stayed well hidden.

Arkady stopped in front of Olegra and the man she assumed was one of Cydne's brothers-in-law, as a ginger feline, chained and bleeding, was thrown to the ground at Arkady's feet. It was Jojo, Cydne's bodyguard. There was no question now who'd raised the alarm and tipped off Cydne's family to his fate.

There was no sign of Ambria and Medwen, however. Perhaps they'd been taken back to Port Traeker. Clearly, the news of Cydne's death had reached that far already. Olegra wouldn't be here otherwise.

“This will be
your
fate, whore,” Olegra announced, glaring at Arkady with undiluted venom, “unless you tell us the truth about the fate of my husband.”

Not wasting any time on small talk, I see.
For a girl not yet eighteen, she carried herself like she owned the world and every slave in it, including Arkady.

“He's dead.”

“Who killed him?”

“He died of swamp fever.”

“Lying bitch.”

With a snap of his fingers, the man standing beside Olegra ordered two men forward. They quickly flanked Arkady, grabbing her by the arms with bruising force, and pushed her down until she was kneeling on the grass.

Arkady didn't resist. There wasn't any point.

Now would be a very good time, Declan, for you to appear out of nowhere and save me again.
Or Cayal. Arkady wasn't really bothered at this juncture which one of them turned up.

Just so long as
one
of them did.

Olegra's brother stepped forward and pointed at Jojo. The feline was on her knees also, bleeding from multiple lash wounds and looking scared witless. Felines were tough little creatures, but they didn't take well to being tortured and restrained.
Not that anybody really relishes being tortured and restrained
, Arkady thought,
except maybe those clients who used to frequent that place in the slums near Shalimar's attic.
The one whose girls would come to her father to treat their wounds on an almost weekly basis.
The place my father forbade me to go anywhere near
 . . .

Arkady forced her attention back to the present, feeling herself retreating from the pain already, even though it hadn't started yet.

“This creature claims my brother-in-law was murdered. Two village women arrived in the Delta Settlement a few hours later to inform us he
died of swamp fever. As a consequence, I am sure of only two things. My sister's husband is dead and someone must pay for it.”