The Gods of Amyrantha (33 page)

A little surprised at how ridiculously ordinary the conversation seemed, she nodded and held up her hand, counting them off on her fingers. 'I've met Jaxyn, who's currently in Herino. And I've met Diala — only I didn't know it was her at the time. And Maralyce —'

Kinta looked shocked. 'You've met
Maralyce,
too? Tides, woman, how did you manage that?'

'It's a long story,' Arkady said, before adding, carefully, 'and I've met Cayal.'

A tense silence descended over the rotunda. The temperature seemed to drop. Arkady knew she was imagining it. Kinta wasn't powerful enough to control the weather like that, but it felt real, just the same.

'Recently?' the immortal enquired in a flat, dangerous voice.

'Several months ago,' she explained. 'He was incarcerated in Lebec Prison for a time.'

'What was he doing in prison?'

'I believe he was trying to get himself beheaded.'

A humourless smile creased the immortal's lips. 'As we're here discussing him, I think I'm safe in assuming he was unsuccessful in his quest?'

'He was. But he escaped and took me hostage. That's how I met Maralyce. He fled into the Shevron Mountains and took me with him.'

Kinta nodded. 'Maralyce would aid him if he asked. She owes him a debt.'

'For what?' Arkady asked, before she could stop herself.

'He and Lukys saved her from a marauding mob, once. She remembers that sort of thing.' 'What about you?' 'What about me?'

'Would
you
aid him if he came to you for help?' 'Do you think he might?'

Arkady didn't answer, letting Kinta draw what inference she would from her silence.

It didn't take the immortal long to come to the right conclusion. 'You know he's here in Ramahn.' Not a question. A flat statement of fact.

'I've heard rumours. I've not seen him myself, though.'

Although she said nothing, her answer seemed to please Kinta.

'I am curious,' Arkady added, aware she might be pushing her luck too far. 'I thought your love affair with Cayal ended with the last Cataclysm.'

Kinta didn't answer immediately. Arkady let the silence drag on, mostly because she had no idea what to say, either.

"Who told you that?'

'It's common belief among us mere mortals.'

To Arkady's intense relief, a small smile flickered across Kinta's unlined face. 'You mere mortals, eh? Trust me, Arkady, there is nothing
mere
about
you'

'I appreciate the compliment, my lady, but...'

'But you want to know what happened?'

Arkady nodded.

'Are you asking as a historian or as a woman?' 'Pardon?'

'I mean, my dear, is your interest in the events that brought about the last Cataclysm historical or personal?'

For no good reason she could think of, Arkady responded with the truth. 'A little of both, actually.'

Her answer didn't seem to surprise Kinta in the slightest.
Maybe, when you're as old as she is, nothing surprises you any more.

'There's not much to tell, Arkady. Immortal we may be, but we brought all our human failings with us. It was just one of those things that happen ...'

'Just one of those
things?
It ended in a global catastrophe, my lady.'

She shrugged, as if such minor inconveniences were of no concern. 'We had no way of knowing how it would end. If one rules their life by the vague notion of what
might
happen, they'll never do anything. Fear paralyses all living creatures, Arkady. You should remember that.'

'But you and Brynden were together for so long

'And we will be again, the Tide willing,' Kinta said, confirming what Tiji had suspected all along. Kinta was here in the palace to secure the throne of Torlenia for the Lord of Reckoning.

'Will you tell me what happened?'

'Are you sure you
want
to know?'

Cayal had asked her the same question once. Settling back against the cushions, Arkady nodded. There was no going back now.

'Yes, my lady,' she said. 'I
really
want to know.'

CHAPTER 32

We were always friendly, Cayal, Brynden and I, although I'd hesitate to call us friends. My Brynden is not easy to befriend, truth be told. He's an abrupt and pedantic sort of fellow. He's a warrior.

Fyrennese warriors have a very strict code of honour. Other immortals have laughed at this, over the years, but Cayal understood, I think. He might have teased Brynden about many of his peculiarities, but the Immortal Prince was wise enough never to mock a warrior's honour.

This was back before the last Cataclysm. The last Tide was a small one, not long out, not long in returning, but we'd barely recovered from the devastation. Amyrantha wasn't nearly as sophisticated as it is now. The mortals were on the uphill climb back to civilisation, but they weren't there yet.

Syrolee and her lot had settled in Tenacia once more, but what happened with Kentravyon scared them. We'd never acted in concert before. I'm not even sure if they realised we could. Whatever the reason, news that a group of us had banded together and immobilised Kentravyon — more or less permanently — put the fear of the Tide into Syrolee and Engarhod.

For the first time in five thousand years, they asked for a meeting. They wanted to make peace, they claimed; to delineate the boundaries of each Tide Lord's territory during the coming High Tide.

It wasn't a bad idea, actually, even if it was motivated by nothing but abject terror, so we agreed to

the meeting. With the Tide on the rise, for the first time in thousands of years, all the immortals began to gather in the one place.

The meeting was to take place in Tenacia and Syrolee took her role as host very seriously. She provided us with a villa just outside the partially rebuilt city of Libeth. It was a sumptuous mansion, a relic of the previous age, restored almost to what it had been in its heyday. It was just a house, really; somewhere we could live while the negotiations were going on, Crasii slaves to wait on us hand and foot, the best foods, copious amounts of wine, and endless entertainments ...

Syrolee had good reason to try to make us comfortable for an extended length of time. Finding an immortal with no wish to be found, even for another immortal, is no easy task. We were among the first to get there. Cayal and Lukys had already arrived — they'd been on their way back from Jelidia after checking on Kentravyon when they got Syrolee's invitation, I believe. Word arrived not long after Brynden and I did, that Maralyce was due within the month. Of the lesser immortals, not all had been contacted yet.

Pellys had been located, however — in Senestra. He was quite taken with the amphibious Crasii, many of whom had made their home in the Senestran swamps after the last Cataclysm, so he wasn't that hard to locate. Brynden and Lukys offered to travel to Senestra to fetch him.

I stayed in Libeth. In the villa.. With Cayal.

You'll get no prize for guessing what happened. We were stuck in that villa with nobody but ourselves for company for months. The other immortals hadn't arrived. Cayal and Tryan had both given their word — albeit reluctantly — they would stay away from each other until the negotiations started, and in Tenacia, that meant not venturing far from the villa ... this was Tryan's turf, after all.

Neither of us meant for it to turn out the way it did. It just happened. Not right away, of course, but you know how it is, when you're stuck somewhere with someone and there's nothing else to do and nowhere to go. You start to talk, first about ordinary, mundane things, as then as the nights grow longer, and the weather grows colder, you move a little closer for warmth and you find yourself pouring your heart out to somebody who nods and smiles sympathetically in all the right places. Before long, you start to think this is the soul who
really
understands you. The one destiny
wanted
you to meet...

You even start to wonder if
this
is the man you're meant to be with, not the man you've spent the last seven thousand years loving.

Tides, I don't know what I was thinking. I told Cayal things during those long cold nights I've never shared with Brynden. As I mentioned before, my man is an abrupt, unsympathetic sort of fellow, not the kind to sit up half the night letting you ramble, while you try to explain something to him that you can't even explain to yourself. And it wasn't all me. Cayal did the same — this was a mutual sharing of dark secrets and hidden longings. He told me some amazing things about his life; some of the things he'd done and more than one thing he wished he hadn't. I'm quite sure he'd never told another living soul the thoughts and feelings he shared with me that winter. And while I'm loath to admit it now, at the time it was cathartic for both of us.

There are some things you can only tell another immortal. Things only another immortal would understand.

And it was the first time, I think, Cayal openly admitted he was trying to find a way to die.

In hindsight, I think that's what weakened my resolve.

God, women can be fools
_v
In fairness to Cayal, I really don't think he told me of his wish to end it all just to invoke my sympathy. He was beyond that, by then. He really, truly wants to die, and I think he told me about it because he thought I might understand why.

I don't, in case you're wondering. I cannot conceive of not wanting to live. For me immortality is a gift, a precious gift, to be rejoiced in every day. For Cayal it has become a burden, every day another to be borne rather than relished, to be endured rather than enjoyed.

I remember the moment it changed from friendship to danger like it was yesterday. It had been unseasonably warm, so we'd gone out onto the terrace to watch the sunset. There was a fountain in the centre of the courtyard. It no longer worked but there was still a pool at its base. We'd kicked our shoes off and were paddling in the cool water. It was stocked with brightly coloured decorative fish — by Syrolee, I presume — that swam past us, kissing our toes gently as we sat on the edge of the pool. I remember laughing and snatching my feet out of the water as one brushed against the soul of my foot.

'Tides, I wish I could still laugh like that,' Cayal sighed.

I looked at him. 'Is something wrong with your throat?'

'Something's wrong with me.'

That struck me as being very funny. 'Would you like my help compiling a list?'

'Haven't you ever wanted to die, Kinta?' He wasn't smiling, but I didn't realise yet that he was serious.

'Tides, no! Why would I want that?'

'Because this is never going to end.'

'And this bothers you, does it?'

'Doesn't it bother you?'

'Not in the slightest.'

He was silent for a time before asking, 'How many languages can you speak?'

I shrugged. 'Fourteen, perhaps, maybe more. I've never really counted.'

'And what happens when you know them all?'

'What?'

'When you've done it all? Seen it all? Been everywhere? Thought everything? What then? Will you just do it all again?'

'That's an absurd question,' I said. 'When would we ever reach that point?'

'We're immortal, Kinta. Sooner or later, there will be nothing left for us to do, nothing to see, nothing to experience. I'm already sick of it. I can't bear the thought of spending eternity like this.'

'Get yourself beheaded,' I joked. 'Then you can start all over again.'

Cayal didn't share my amusement. 'That's a stupid idea.'

'It worked for Pellys.'

'Have you
seen
Pellys?' he asked.

'I don't think he was all there before you lopped his head off, Cayal. You can't blame the decapitation for that.'

'Don't you remember what happened when I did? He destroyed Magreth while his head was growing back.'

'And you're concerned about doing something similar, are you? How remarkably conscientious of you, Cayal.'

'I want to die, Kinta. I'm not really interested in taking half the planet with me.'

'Noble sentiments, my friend, but hardly reason to stop you if you were serious about it.'

'What do
you
suggest, then?'

'Have yourself decapitated at Low Tide.' I wasn't serious. I certainly never thought he'd try it.

There's a lot I was wrong about when it came to dealing with Cayal.

But I was warming to this idea, even if I thought it ludicrous. 'Think about it. There'd be no Tide magic to run out of control while your head's growing back and you're still figuring out which way is up. When you've recovered, your mind will be a blank slate and you can start all over again. You never know, maybe the next Cayal won't mind being immortal.'

I looked at him, expecting to see him smiling, but he was staring at me, silent, watchful, thoughtful...

There is a moment that comes between a man and a woman, a moment in which fate gives you an opportunity to go on, or turn away. This was that moment for Cayal and I, and I blame myself as much as him for not turning away. It's a moment that demands mental, rather than verbal communication. You're both wondering 'should
V
or 'shouldn't I', hoping somehow with a look, a blink, a twitch, perhaps, the other will tell you what you want to know and you won't have to be the one who makes the first move and risks the rejection you're half expecting. It's a moment that lasts for a fraction of a second, and yet — when you're experiencing it — that fleeting moment feels like an hour.