The Destiny of the Dead (The Song of the Tears Book 3) (80 page)

‘You’ll never understand,’ Jal-Nish said scornfully. ‘You’re
truly pitiful, Nish. Power is its own reward, and the most seductive of all
life’s pleasures.’

‘Only an impotent man would say that,’ said Nish pointedly.
‘I prefer my pleasures a trifle more physical; more
real
.’

‘I’m sure you do,’ said Jal-Nish. ‘You always were shallow,
superficial, and common. Do you want to see her, or not?’

Nish’s throat seemed to have swollen, and for several
breaths he had to fight for air. ‘I want to see her.’

Raising Irisis seemed to take an eternity. He watched,
barely able to breathe, while Jal-Nish stroked the surface of Gatherer in one
motion after another, teasing it into patterns and reading them, then shaking
his head and dissolving the patterns back into an amorphous glister and
starting again.

‘She will need clothing,’ Nish said. Nakedness had not
bothered Irisis while she was alive, but he could not bear the thought of her
coming out that way before his vile, sneering father.

‘I have already laid garments to hand.’

Finally Jal-Nish put his hand deep into Reaper, drew it back
to Gatherer, and Nish heard something stir on the other side of the dusty
curtain. On the day his ten-year sentence in Mazurhize had been up, Jal-Nish
had drawn back that very curtain to show him Irisis’s body, and forced him to
relive her death, over and again.

A sharp pain grew in the centre of his chest and a hot flush
ran up his throat until his face glowed. What was the matter with him? He was
blushing like a schoolboy.

Her heart gave a slow thump, and another; Nish felt the air
being drawn all the way down her dry throat and into lungs that strained to
expand after not knowing air in ten years. She swayed, suffering a momentary
dizziness, and he felt that too, as if his father had linked him to Irisis in
some way; he also felt her knees wobble as she took a step, and for a second
Nish wasn’t sure that they would bear her weight.

‘Leave us, Father!’

Jal-Nish nodded and went across the floor of the ninth
level, out of sight. As he did, the iron pedestal faded, and the tears with it.
He was taking no chances.

The lid of the coffin whispered open, silk rustled, and Nish
heard her bare feet on the floor. His mouth went dry. The curtain was pulled
back and tears prickled his eyes, for Irisis stood there, alive!

Or at least, restored to life.

He felt an overpowering urge to run and sweep her into his
arms, but held back. Apart from a slight pallor, and a faint blueness of the
lips that was already changing to pink, she looked just as she had done the
moment before she died. Even the thin seam around her throat was gone … no, not
gone completely, though it had faded to the faintest, thread-like scar. No
doubt Jal-Nish had left it there deliberately, as a reminder to them both that
he had killed her, and then raised her again.

Irisis looked at Nish, did not seem to recognise him, then
her eyes widened.

‘Poor Nish,’ she said in the deep, throaty voice that had
always sent a thrill up his spine. ‘You’ve aged shockingly. What you must have
been through.’

It had not occurred to him that he would look so different.
Most of the time he felt like a young man – well, youngish – though
he’d never regained all the flesh he’d lost in prison, his hair had thinned at
the front, and he bore many recent bruises and battle scars.

‘It’s been ten years, and nearly another half,’ he said. ‘Do
you know, in the shadow realm, what goes on in the real world?’

‘The shadow realm is
my
real world,’ Irisis said quietly. ‘Yet, should one take the trouble, it is
possible to see a little of what is happening on Santhenar. As time goes on,
however, it becomes harder to understand why you mortals do the things you do.’

Did she mean that she could have watched him from the shadow
realm, but had not bothered? Did she no longer care? This wasn’t going at all
the way Nish had expected. ‘You look as beautiful as ever,’ said Nish. ‘Oh,
Irisis –’

‘Why should I not? My body has been
preserved
, frozen in time by your father’s vile Arts.’

‘But you’re alive again? You really have come back?’

‘I’ve been dragged back from death, forced into the body I
was torn from long ago, and the spark of life so violently extinguished has
been relit. Yes, I’m alive, but I’m not the Irisis you knew, any more than you’re
the Nish you were when I died. Why have you brought me here?’

Maelys was struggling down the steep, broken face of
the pit in the darkness, terrified that she was already too late, when she
heard someone not far behind. Jal-Nish must have sent the Imperial Guard to do
what they had failed to do last time.

Drawing her knife, she moved behind a slab of rock, though
if he was directing the attack with Gatherer he could probably see her wherever
she tried to hide. She peered around the side; a shadow was creeping down,
following her path. She raised the knife, but lowered it again when he
vanished. Where was he? Had he sensed she was here?

‘Maelys, what the blazes are you doing?’

On recognising Flydd’s voice, her knees went weak with
relief. ‘I’m looking after Nish,’ she snapped. ‘Someone’s got to.’

‘What are you talking about?’ he said irritably.

‘You’re planning to destroy the tears, even if that destroys
Nish at the same time.’

Pulling her close, he hissed in her ear. ‘You little fool, I
said that in case Jal-Nish’s loop-listeners had picked us up. Do you really
think I’ve encouraged, cajoled and driven Nish all this way, all this time,
only to abandon him now? Besides, we haven’t worked out how to destroy the
tears. We’ve no idea what their antithesis is.’

Maelys started, but fortunately the darkness concealed it.
She had never been good at keeping secrets, while Flydd had been an expert at
extracting them. Had he been able to see her face, he would have known that she
was holding something back.

And I’m not going to tell you, she thought. To distract him,
she said, ‘I’m going to Nish,’ and headed down the slope.

‘What do you expect to do when you get there?’ he said
conversationally as he followed. ‘Save him from himself?’

‘I don’t know,’ she muttered. ‘But I’m still going and you
can’t stop me.’

‘I can,’ Flydd said equably. ‘But I’m not planning to.’

They were almost to the bottom now. The moon had come out
and there was just enough reflected light from the palace for them to pick
their way across the broken rock partly filling the watery moat. It took ages
to reach the steps surrounding the palace, and Maelys was afraid they were
already too late.

‘How long would it take?’ she said as she clambered onto the
once-magnificent promenade, now fractured and with its tilted paving stones
covered in gravel and grit, making it impossible to move quietly.

‘To do what?’

‘Raise Irisis from the dead.’

‘How would I know?’ Flydd said. ‘I’m no necromancer.
Besides, as far as I know, it has never been done.’

‘Keep your voice down. The guards –’

‘He knows we’re coming, Maelys.’

‘He knows?’ she whispered.

‘Of course. Jal-Nish is a show-off; he
wants
us there so we can all see how brilliant he is. Surely you
didn’t think you could sneak in undetected?’

‘Oh!’ she said, feeling like a foolish little girl. ‘Then
what are we going to do?’

‘We’ll have to make it up as we go along.’

They went inside, and up the floors one by one, though
Maelys saw no one until they were climbing the dusty stair to the ninth level.
Two Imperial Guardsmen stood at the top, the pair who had been going to kill
her at the feast. She froze on the steps, too afraid to move, but Flydd took
her arm and the guards silently stepped aside to let them enter.

‘Jal-Nish no longer has any fear of us,’ said Flydd. ‘That’s
bad.’

As they moved across the polished floor, the dust squeaked
beneath their feet. Maelys could hardly breathe; there was a swelling in her
throat the size of a lemon and she felt a sharp pain in the region of her
heart.

They turned around a column together, and stopped, staring.

‘He’s done it,’ said Flydd in a strangled voice. ‘I never
thought it was possible, but Jal-Nish has brought her back.’

Nish was about thirty paces away, looking up at a tall,
beautiful woman who had the most extraordinary yellow hair. He appeared to be
straining forwards, and there was an odd, yearning expression on his face.
Irisis was standing side-on and Maelys could not read anything from her
features, but she did not need to.

‘How can I compete with that?’ she muttered, her small
shoulders slumping.

‘I wasn’t aware that you wanted to,’ Flydd murmured.

‘Neither was I until Jal-Nish mentioned raising Irisis,’
said Maelys. ‘I loved Nish once, after we fled from Mazurhize last autumn, but
that was just a silly, girlish hero-worship. And after the way he treated me
when he was playing at being the Deliverer, I almost hated him for a while. But
since we met again at the Range of Ruin he’s been really thoughtful and kind,
and brave and true, and I knew I was seeing the real Nish at last. And, silly
girl that I am, I even imagined …’

‘But you can’t possibly compete with the risen dead,’ said
Flydd, going ahead.

‘No, I can’t.’ Maelys followed, keeping behind him, for she
did not want to be seen. She felt sure that Irisis would judge her and find her
wanting. ‘I’m still going to save him, though.’

‘I would expect no less of a true friend,’ he said over his
shoulder.

Irisis turned suddenly, smiled and reached out to Flydd.
‘Xervish!’ She took a step towards him, stopped, frowning, but came on again.
‘What happened to your renewed body?’

Maelys tried to hide behind him and knew it wouldn’t work,
since her hips were considerably wider than his scrawny frame.

‘It never suited me,’ said Flydd, laughing in delight, ‘so I
went back to the old one.’ He clasped her hands in his.

‘No, it never did,’ said Irisis.

‘I thought you said it was too much trouble to look back to
Santhenar?’ muttered Nish, somewhat piqued.

‘I didn’t
say
that,’ said Irisis, her smile fading. ‘I merely allowed you to think it.’ She
turned back to Flydd and it flickered on again. ‘You’re not
quite
the old Flydd,’ she said, looking
him up and down. ‘Poor Nish has aged fifteen years in ten, while you’ve taken
five years off. You look very well, old friend.’

‘I feel it. I’m fully restored to the man I was when we
first met.’

‘Fully?’ she said with a roguish smile.

‘Oh yes.’

‘Then I’m glad.’ She stepped around him and approached
Maelys, who had no idea what to say or do. ‘Hello, Maelys. I’m so pleased to
meet you at last.’ Irisis reached out and took her hands.

She seemed even taller and more beautiful close up, and yet
again Maelys found herself flushing. ‘What do you mean,
at last
?’

‘I’ve been watching you ever since you saved Nish last
autumn. You’ll do perfectly.’

Before Maelys could ask what she meant, Jal-Nish appeared
fifty or sixty paces off, on the far side of the ninth level. As he came
across, the pedestal reappeared, with the tears standing on it.

Flydd had seen them too; Maelys could tell by the slight
stiffening of his posture, and the gleam in his eyes that he could not entirely
conceal. Did he still yearn for them the way Nish yearned for Irisis? Was he
obsessed by the ultimate power they could give him?

‘You can finish the reunions afterwards,’ said Jal-Nish,
striding towards them, his replaced arm hanging limp, the other swinging
vigorously and wafting out that faint corpse smell. ‘Irisis Stirm, I brought
you back for a reason, and I’m sure Nish has told you what it is.’

Maelys moved well back, for she could not bear to be near
Jal-Nish.

‘You want to know what happened at the node-drainer,’ said
Irisis, ‘to cause the Snizort node to explode in such a way as to create your
Profane Tears.’

‘That’s right,’ Jal-Nish said eagerly.

‘And you’re terrified that, when Tiaan made all the nodes
explode at the end of the war, one or two of them might also have produced
nihilium tears.’

‘I’m not terrified –’

‘Of course you are,’ said Irisis, and laughed scornfully.
‘You never had it in you to be a great mancer, Jal-Nish, and despite all your
boasting, you still aren’t one. You owe everything you have to the tears and
you’re terrified that, if another set should be found, a truly great mancer
like Flydd would soon cast you down and undo everything you’ve achieved with
them.’

‘All right!’ he snapped. ‘You’ve had your fun. Tell me what
happened at the Snizort node.’

‘No,’ said Irisis.

‘What?’ he roared. The old side of his face crinkled up,
while the restored side barely moved.

‘I’m not going to tell you,’ said Irisis.

‘But …
but that was
the price
,’ he cried, flustered, then his face hardened. ‘If you don’t tell
me, I’ll send you back to the shadow realm.’

 
FIFTY-FOUR

Maelys clenched her fists helplessly. Irisis would have
to tell him now.

‘Good,’ said Irisis. ‘I want to go back.’

Jal-Nish stared at her in incomprehension. ‘But … you can’t.
No one chooses death over life.’

‘I do.’ She laughed in his face. ‘How does it feel to be as
powerless as the least of your subjects,
God-Emperor
?
There’s absolutely nothing you can do to compel me.’

‘I could kill Cryl-Nish,’ said Jal-Nish.

‘Then we’ll be together in the shadow realm,’ said Irisis,
and momentarily such a wistful look crossed her beautiful face that Maelys felt
tears form in her own eyes. It was only right that they should be reunited, and
yet it felt so wrong. ‘But not even you could kill your only son.’