The Seascape Tattoo (22 page)

He made it down to the barracks buildings. Everything seemed abandoned … then he heard voices and footsteps: approaching soldiers.

He backed into a shadow and put his hand on the talisman. A small jolt might well give him the camouflage he needed to—

Then a hand reached out from behind him, covering his mouth to prevent a scream, and hauled him back and into darkness.

 

TWENTY-THREE

Shyena

“Come with me,” a woman's voice said, and to his amazement, Neoloth recognized it at once.

Shyena, the Red Nun. He had seen her at the race, near the docks. And now she was saving him.

What was her game?

They were both silent as she led him away from the Octagon, through a network of shadows and two secret doors, and to a flat, dark building, quite unprepossessing. Once they were through the door, he was dazzled by the opulent draperies and furnishings.

She took him down a side hall and through another door, and then they were in her private quarters.

Shyena threw her hood back, revealing the beautiful, angular features he had seen through the tricky spyglass.

The Red Nun lit a candle, then doffed her cloak. Finally, she spoke. “So. I was correct. It is Neoloth-Pteor. I thought so. Was puzzled only by the way you followed that barbarian around like a lap dog. What is your interest here?”

“Interest?” he asked.

“Do not seek to play me for a fool. Don't you realize that I can raise my voice and you will be torn apart?”

He smiled without humor. “And why don't you?”

“Perhaps I will.”

He studied her. “No, I don't think so.”

She slid around the table toward him, approaching more directly. The air in the room shifted, and suddenly he caught her scent. It was not entirely perfume, or soap.

“You think my memory of your skills in the boudoir will silence my tongue? That perhaps I will find better use for it than betrayal?”

Shyena's face was very close.

“No,” Neoloth said.

When she spoke again, her voice was extraordinarily intimate. “What, then?”

“I think you need to know who I have told of you. And what my intentions are, and whether they conflict with yours.”

She smiled, pleased by his acumen. “You have lost nothing of your vision, wizard. Come. Drink with me.”

Neoloth looked at the wine flagons, suspicious.

Shyena laughed. “You may choose the flagon,” she said. “You may choose the wine bottle. And remember—killing you accomplishes nothing if you have spoken of me in the wrong quarters.”

“That … is truth,” Neoloth said. “We are equally exposed, I think.”

He poured both glasses, and they sat on the divan, eyeing each other. “You were waiting for me.”

“Yes.”

“You've known I was here for quite a while.”

“Yes. Since the sail race.”

“I saw you,” he said.

She smiled. “I felt you see me.”

He shook his head. “Proximity sense?”

“Attention sense,” Shyena replied.

“I … never saw that in you.”

“I know how to keep my secrets,” she said. “Knowing when someone is focused on me has kept me alive and helped me rise here.”

“I'm sure,” he said. “So this is your place, and these are your people. And this is your work.”

The Red Nun narrowed her eyes. “Are you judging me?”

Neoloth paused. A tense moment. He gestured to the east. “Necromancy.”

“Yes.”

“You are doing something to create these strange machines.”

She shook her head, but smiled.

“Something. Not creating. But … obtaining?”

She nodded.

“From another land. From the spirit realm … They are made in fairy workshops.”

Her smile was only a faint curl … but told him he was on the wrong track. “You lack imagination.”

He pondered.

“They are not of this land. But not of another land. They are not made by fairies, or spirits, but by men. But not our men. You like riddles?”

He frowned and then stared at her.

Then took a deep breath and tried again. “What could be done with unlimited mana, gained by slaughtering men, women, and children—”

The Red Nun recoiled, raising a hand, her long sharpened fingernails like claws. “No! Not children. I have limited influence with the Ten, but was able to confine them to prisoners of war and adult slaves. No children.”

When Shyena next looked at him, her eyes blazed. He couldn't look away.

“You, above all others, should know me better than that.”

“So … you have not forgotten?”

“Who could?” she said, allowing her voice and face to soften. “How could you even wonder?”

“And with that memory burning bright, as bright as the houses aflame, you serve the man who killed your family?”

She glared at him.

“No,” he said. “And that is why you did not betray me.”

“And you. Following that ignorant barbarian like a dog. Pretending to be a servant. You serve the queen of Quillia.”

“How do you know this?”

She smiled again. “The Ten has their own secrets and sources.”

“So,” Neoloth said. “You know.”

She nodded. “Yours is a mission of rescue.”

“And yours,” he said, “one of vengeance.”

“You think you know revenge? Did you ever have anyone you cared about, Neoloth? Ever? I had everything taken from me, by the very man who now seeks the power to rule the world. I will bring him low; I swear it. And if you will help me … I will help you.”

“And if I don't? Or can't?”

Her eyes were blazing cold. “Do not stand between me and my vengeance. I swear that if you do, I will destroy you.”

Neoloth nodded. “We are both vulnerable here. We each have secrets. My goals do not conflict with yours … even if they are not in alignment.”

“You seek the princess. I need her to complete our spell.”

“And I cannot let you destroy or corrupt her.”

The Red Nun matched him stare for stare. “Then we are at an impasse. Each of us can destroy the other. Neither of us will help the other. We do not trust. I don't know what you want here, but, whatever your purpose, you have made a mistake.”

Neoloth's mind buzzed. This moment could totally make or break his entire mission. Finally, he spoke. “What if there was a way?”

Her expression was guarded. “To what?”

“For us to trust each other. To know each other's mind.”

Now, for the first time, her expression seemed … pleased. “You don't mean…”

“The Yellow Rose. Yes.”

Her posture changed. Became some odd mixture of tart and priestess. Her smile was cynical. “I thought you were in love.”

“Love is love,” he said. “Business is business.”

 

TWENTY-FOUR

The Yellow Rose

The candles were freshly lit, incense curling from the scented sticks to ghost-dance around the shadowed room. They had drawn a magical circle on the floor, candles burning, and she mounted him in seated position, tightly intertwined. They gazed deeply into each other's eyes, timing their breaths to synchronize with each other.

At first it was just penetration and envelopment, but then they began to experience a variety of powerful shifts, the room around them melting, and Neoloth saw the girl within the woman.

He saw things, memories from her past: The village that burned. The lost parents. The vow of vengeance. Becoming a courtesan. The day she became the mistress of a great wizard, where first she met Neoloth. And, finally, her ceremony of Becoming, when she stepped into her power and joined the Thousand. One focused decision at a time, working her way up to being one of the Ten.

His mind exploded with her memories.

*   *   *

The sun was just shining through the window as the two of them lay sprawled on the beam floor, their bodies intertwined.

Shyena's breath was wine and honey. “You…,” she began, but could not complete the thought. “That was magic.”

He chuckled, low in his throat. “We are magicians, after all.”

More chuckling from both. Then she grew more serious. “So,” she said. “You do love her.”

“Yes, I do.”

“And you are willing to die in your quest.”

He hesitated, then answered. “Yes.” And was surprised to realize that he meant it.

“My silence is as yours, things being equal … which of course they never are.” Her smile was wan, and her naked hips withdrew an inch. “We interfere not with each other's plans. But I need more, because your interests are directly opposed to mine … unless you have something to add.”

“I'm still trying to believe … the cavern … we never knew any of that, ever. Let me think.” He thought, while she watched his face. “If I have the princess … it weakens your plans.”

“Unless?”

“Unless there is a way that a living princess advantages you.”

“And how might that be?”

“If the Thousand, or their leaders the Ten, accomplish their aims, this world changes. Magic becomes a shadow. In that world, what have you really won?”

She thought. “Power. Revenge.”

“What if you could have all three? Power, revenge …
and
magic?”

She frowned. “How?”

“If the general dies, you have your revenge. Need you kill him yourself?” He thought he saw a touch of hunger in her eyes.

“I thought to, as there is no one I trust enough to have engaged as an assassin.”

He smiled. “I may have just the man. And if he dies and the princess disappears … what then?”

“When the truth is learned? War between Quillia and Shrike?”

“And?”

“Shrike will use its new weapons and win.”

“Unless the other seven kingdoms rise against her,” Neoloth said.

“And Shrike will be destroyed, at great cost to the kingdoms.” Her face darkened. “There is no joy in that thought. Most of the dead are blameless.”

“Unless…” He paused, feeling the tension. “Unless the princess was found to have been captured by bandits and returned by Shrike.”

The breath caught in Shyena's throat. “Even if you agreed to such a thing, how could we be certain the princess herself would. She knows where she is. And who has her. Make no mistake.”

Neoloth felt more confidence now. He had her. “It is in the princess's interests to see peace. If the cavern were destroyed or blocked and the general destroyed … where then does that leave you?”

“In a power vacuum,” she mused. “In need of allies.” She raised an eyebrow in implied question.

“While I will be the consort of the next queen of Quillia, a man deep in your debt. I wish to live my life in peace, would have no reason to betray an ally. In fact … I believe that you would find me, and the princess, to be extraordinarily grateful to you.”

The distance between them vanished in warmth and softness. “Would you, now?”

“You came to Shrike seeking vengeance and power.”

She nodded.

“I can provide both—not in the form you sought, but in a manner that should satisfy your appetites. The general dead. The Ten vanquished. A power vacuum. The gratitude of the greatest kingdom of the Eight in support of your ambitions. What poor magic remains in this world would still be the most powerful force.”

“I can be certain of this, precisely how?”

They smiled at each other. Neoloth felt his loins tingling again. Magic was a wonderful thing. “Our first ceremony brought us close enough to dream. It seems another may be needed to complete the deal.”

“The princess for the general. Your assassin, my knowledge. We … share. You and I, Neoloth … we are two of a kind. It is a shame…”

“Yes. But we have this moment. And any moment, lived deeply enough, is all the time that there is…”

*   *   *

As their bodies cooled again, Neoloth rolled onto his back, sighing. “Under what circumstances can I trust you?”

“Only those in which I may have my revenge. Stand in my way, and I will destroy you, even at the cost of my own life.”

Neoloth smiled. “But destroying yourself will prevent you from accomplishing your aims.”

“But my willingness to die is the only thing that will neutralize you, my old lover.”

“What if there was another way. Another way to destroy him.”

“And his aims. The Ten have opened the door to the future.”

Neoloth nodded. “I
never
saw that coming.”

The Red Nun seemed thoughtful. “They cannot see that, in time, what they do will destroy them. They see only the power that can be gained now, not what our descendants will lose if magic is no longer primary in the world.”

“So…,” Neoloth asked, “if the general
and
the tunnels were destroyed … you would not mourn.”

“With you, I might survive this.” She fidgeted, and he intuited that they were closer to some truth. “And that is not something I had dreamed of. I thought to die with him.”

She turned on her side and softly began to cry.

“Why do you cry?” Neoloth asked, gently.

“When we joined, I saw,” she said.

“What did you see?”

“You speak the truth. You are willing to die for her. You … love her.”

“Yes,” Neoloth admitted. “Yes, I do. Why do you cry?”

“Because we could do this. You and I. A man like you. Willing to do what you have been willing to do for your love.”

“And the power, Shyena,” he said. “Please, don't paint me as a saint.”

She smiled at him wanly. “So wise. So foolish.”

He flinched. “What do you mean?”

“I saw into your heart, Neoloth. I know what you are afraid to say to yourself.”