The Palace of Impossible Dreams (54 page)

“Ah, now that's the tricky part.”

“Is it difficult?”

Cayal shrugged. “It's . . . fiddly.”

“And that's how you want to deal with the Merchant Marines when they return? By confusing their senses?”

The Immortal Prince nodded. “That's the plan. If you're up to it, by then.”

“If it's that
fiddly
, why not just do what we did to the first lot?”

“I explained that to you the other night. Tide's not up far enough to sustain pulling the air out over a wide area for long enough to make it work. And like I said—and you apparently weren't listening—once you start moving the air around, you're messing with the weather. We make a few hundred Senestran marines cough and splutter here to prove our point, and before you know it, Jelidia's melting into the oceans and we've got Lukys hunting us down for ruining his Palace of Impossible Dreams.”

“His
what
?”

“Your dear old dad has built himself an ice palace,” Cayal explained, looking amused. “Pellys dubbed it the Palace of Impossible Dreams. A poetic, if somewhat ridiculous title that seems to have stuck, mostly because I think Oritha—Tides, that'd be your
stepmother
—likes it. You'll see it when we get to Jelidia. Assuming it's still there.”

It was discomforting to hear Cayal refer to Lukys as his “dear old dad,” partly because Declan wasn't sure he believed it, and partly because he was afraid it might be true. “All right, so doing anything with the weather is out of the question. What are you suggesting? That we make them all fall over?”

Cayal grinned. “Think about it for a moment, Rodent. Have you any idea how effective that would be?”

Despite himself—and Cayal's insult—Declan smiled. “I suppose it would rather disrupt the invasion if all their marines start falling about like drunkards.”

“There you go, Rodent,” Cayal said, slapping Declan on the shoulder like a proud father. “Now you're thinking like a Tide Lord. Minimum magic for the maximum disruption, that's my philosophy.”

Declan stared at him. “
That's
your philosophy?”

“Sure it is. Why?”

“Weren't you the man who drowned one country and decimated another, just to put out a small flame? Didn't you wipe out your own country in a disagreement with Tryan? Wasn't the last cataclysm caused because you ran off with Kinta . . .?”

“That was Brynden's work, not mine.”

“Still, you have an interesting definition of
minimum.
”

The smile faded from Cayal's face. Declan could feel him on the Tide, the angry ripples telling him more about Cayal's mood than his outwardly calm demeanour, forced on the Immortal Prince by his deal and the need to keep Declan onside.

“Come see me when
you're
eight thousand years old, Rodent, and we'll see if you've done any better.”

“Won't you be dead by then?” Declan asked, wondering if Cayal had forgotten about his plan to return to Jelidia to die—with Declan's assistance—or if he just didn't really believe it was going to work.

“Not if
you
don't learn something about controlling the Tide,” Cayal warned. “So pay attention, Rodent. I'm going to teach you how to manipulate the senses, and you'd better learn good, because if I miss my chance to die when the Tide peaks, thanks to your incompetence, I'll spend my every waking moment until the
next
High Tide, a thousand years from now, making you regret it.”

Azquil volunteered to keep watch for the returning fleet, and Tiji offered to go with him. It was too difficult being around the cottage. Between Declan smelling like a suzerain and mooning about over Arkady, the Immortal Prince, the disturbingly likable Arryl, and that wretched feline, Jojo, with her watchful, unblinking stare, it was the last place she wanted to be.

Fortunately, the best vantage to watch the southern channel was from the large flat rock near the hot springs where Azquil had first shown Tiji the delights of the Genoa moth. They'd spent rather a lot of time since arriving at the springs, trying to catch another one. They'd made love since that first time, of course, but it was never quite the same and Tiji was anxious to try it again, with the aphrodisiac effects of those delicious melting wings tingling on her tongue.

They had the time to indulge in a bit fun. The round trip from the Delta Settlement would take their enemies two days at least, although Arryl's assessment had been that it would be considerably longer. If Ambria and Medwen had been sent to Port Traeker, it would add another day to the trip, and was she fairly certain they wouldn't come back without reinforcements, which meant even longer before the invaders arrived.

And so it had proved. It was nearly five days now since the Tide Lords had confronted Ulag Pardura and the doctor's wife.

And a few hours ago, Azquil had caught another moth.

“What will you do after this?” Azquil asked, when the elation of their moth-enhanced coupling had calmed. Tiji was curled into Azquil's arms, her head resting in his chest, their skin the same shade as the warm rock beneath them.

She stirred sleepily. “Catch another moth.”

“Not that, silly,” Azquil said. She could hear the smile in his voice. “I mean after Lady Arryl and the Tide Lords secure the wetlands for us. They're leaving, you know.”

“Good riddance to them,” Tiji murmured, wishing Azquil would find something a little more romantic to discuss after making love to her than the wretched suzerain.

“Lady Arryl has asked me to go with her.”

That announcement brought Tiji back to reality with a jarring thud. “She
what
?”

“She wants me to go to Jelidia with her.”

“Why?”

“She needs a servant and wants one she can trust.”

“Then let her take that horrid cat!” Tiji said, sitting up abruptly. “She can't help but follow a suzerain's orders. That should be enough trust for any immortal.”

Azquil pushed himself up on his elbows to stare at her unrelenting back. “A Crasii can be
subverted
by any other immortal. Lady Arryl wants me because I am loyal to her and the Trinity, and I'm a Scard so I can't be ordered otherwise.”

“Tides,” Tiji grumbled. “Are you sure you're not a proper Crasii?”

“If I was, Lady Arryl would not have bothered to ask. I do have a choice, Tiji.”

“Then say no.”

“Why?” he asked, sitting up beside her. “This is the chance of a lifetime—a chance to travel, a chance to see things I'd never see otherwise . . .”

Tiji turned to look at him. “You travel plenty,” she reminded him. “That's how you found me, remember?”

“And why do you think it was me, and not one of the thousands of other chameleons who live in the wetlands who found you? Because I'm one of the few who wants to leave this place occasionally. That's why I was recruited into the Retrievers. I'm one of the few who wants to see what else this world has to offer.”

“Fine,” Tiji said. “So travel. See the world. But do you have to do it with a suzerain?”

“Yes,” he said with determination. “And I want you to come with me.”

She laughed. “Me? Follow a bunch of suzerain to the bottom of the world to watch one kill himself? You're kidding, right?”

“Not at all. I want you to come with me.”

“I can't.”

“Why not?”

Tiji looked away. “I just can't, that's all.”

“Is it because of Lord Declan? Because he has rejected you in favour of a member of his own species?”

Although they didn't know for certain that Declan and Arkady were
nothing more than the friends they insisted they were, Tiji figured Azquil had the right of it. Declan and Arkady had vanished into the bedroom to talk the other night, and still hadn't surfaced at dawn the next morning when the two chameleons left to take up their channel watch at the hot springs. She supposed that meant Declan finally had what he wanted. She hoped he was happy, but suspected things had worked out a little too easily for his happiness to be permanent.

In fact, it was guaranteed to be temporary, when she thought on it. Declan might now be immortal, but Arkady wasn't.

Of course, that didn't alter this awkward misconception Azquil seemed to have about her relationship with her former master. Tiji stared at Azquil for a moment and then let out a frustrated sigh. “How many times, you stupid lizard, do I have to explain to you that Declan is . . . was . . . my friend? I never slept with him and never wanted to. And he never once looked at me as anything other than . . .” Tiji hesitated, and then, with the pained realisation it was true, she said, “. . . than a slave. He's a Tide Lord now, and he can take up with any species he wants. I promise you, I'll lose not a wink of sleep over it.”

“But his presence makes you so uncomfortable . . .”

“That's because he shows up here, out of the blue, suddenly immortal. That doesn't make me uncomfortable, Azquil. It terrifies me.”

“And this is why you don't want to come with me? Because you are terrified of a former master? Tides, it's as if you're still a slave.”

“No, I'm not.”

“You are if you still act according to the wishes of your master.”

That was unfair. And a quite blatant attempt to play on her guilt. “What? You think Declan doesn't want me to go with you?”

“I don't think he cares about you being with me so much,” Azquil said. “He may even be happy for you. But I think he is pained by the way you look at him now.”

“I can't help it. He smells like a suzerain.”

Azquil nodded in understanding. “It's a pity. Jelidia is a very cold place. It would have been much nicer with someone to warm my bed.”

“That's why you wanted me to go? As a bed warmer? Thanks a lot.”

He leaned forward, running a flickering tongue over her ear and then blew on the damp patch softly, sending shivers down her spine. “I'd keep you warm too.”

She pushed him away impatiently. “You can't get your own way just by blowing in my ear, you know.”

“We can have a bit of fun while I try, though,” he said.

“Tides, that's all you think about!”

“Not true,” he said, sitting up with a wounded look. “I think many profound thoughts.”

Despite herself, Tiji smiled. “Like what?”

“Um . . . like . . . the best way to catch channel pike, for instance.”

“Yes, well, that's a weighty problem.”

“I think of . . . countless different ways to cook them . . .”

“Truly, you are the philosopher of your people.”

He grinned. “If you loved me, you'd come to Jelidia with me.”

“If you loved me, you'd stay here with me, Azquil.”

It was flippantly said, but they both fell into an uncomfortable silence. Although they'd been enjoying each other's company for a while now, neither of them had dared suggest there was anything more going on here than a bit of harmless moth-fuelled fun.

Finally, after an awkward silence that stretched for far too long, Azquil moved a little closer and took her hand. “Do you really want me to stay?”

“I want you to follow your heart,” Tiji said, which was as close as she was able to come to asking if he loved her.

“Then I will stay here,” he said without hesitation. “With you.”

“But you want to see Jelidia.”

“I want you more.”

She wasn't sure how to respond to that, so she didn't even try, figuring that at this point, actions would say more than words. So she kissed him, her skin flickering with desire as he took her into his arms, and tingling as if they were sharing a moth. Maybe that was the true magic of the Genoa moth, she thought, allowing Azquil to push her back down on the warm rock, as his flickering tongue danced over her body. It didn't just enhance feelings, it simulated love.

Tiji moaned with pleasure as his tongue slid down along the crease where her thigh joined her torso . . .

And then suddenly the delicious torment stopped and Azquil was sitting up, staring down the channel, alert and cautious.

“Tides!” he swore, climbing to his feet.

“What's the matter?” she asked, disappointed and more than a little frustrated by how easily distracted he was.

Azquil reached down and pulled her to her feet. “They're here.”

“How can you tell?”

“Listen.”

She did as he asked and then shook her head. “I hear nothing.”

“Exactly. The insects have all gone quiet.”

Now he pointed it out to her, Tiji realised he was right. The wetlands, normally filled with the screech of a million insects, were deathly still. They waited, still as only lizards could be, listening . . .

A few moments later they heard them—a soft susurration, the swish of water against moving wood . . . the unmistakable sound of amphibians towing ships toward them.

Azquil hurried to the peak of the sloped rock and dropped to his stomach. Tiji wiggled up beside him and waited, holding her breath.

Even before the ships came into view, Tiji caught a familiar whiff of something foul. “Suzerain,” she whispered.

Azquil nodded. He could smell it too. “They have brought Lady Medwen and Lady Ambria with them,” he said softly.

“We need to get word to the others,” she said, turning to slither back down the rock.

“No,” Azquil said, putting a hand on her arm to restrain her. “We need to count the ships first.”

Tiji nodded, and slithered back into position. They waited in silence for the enemy to appear, the silence tense, the quiet unnerving.

“So,” Tiji said softly, in an attempt to relieve the tension. “If you're really planning to stay here with me, and not go to Jelidia, does that mean you . . . well, you know . . . love me?”