The Gods of Amyrantha (44 page)

The little Crasii scowled. 'Declan will run me through if I let you out of my sight.'

The duchess looked up from her packing.
'Declan
will run you through?'

'He's very fond of you, your grace. If I go back home and tell him I left you at the door of the royal seraglium in Torlenia with an immortal waiting for you on the other side, he'll chop me into little pieces and feed me to the canines.'

Arkady smiled. 'I think you're exaggerating, Tiji.'

'And I think you underestimate Declan Hawkes's feelings for you, your grace.'

Arkady's smile faded. Tiji winced. She hadn't meant to voice
that
thought aloud.

'And what,
exactly,
do you mean by that?' the duchess asked in a tone that made it quite clear who was the master and who was the slave. For a common-born physician's daughter, she had it down pat, too, Tiji decided, wilting a little under the Arkady's withering glare. It was the first time the duchess had pulled rank on the Crasii since Tiji had known her.

'I just meant ...' she began, wishing there was some tactful way out of this. 'Declan's known you a long time. He thinks of you like a ... sister ...'

'Is that right?'

'Absolutely!' the little Crasii said, grabbing onto the idea with both hands. 'He says it all the time. Lady Desean is like a sister to me, he says ...'

'He calls me Lady Desean?'

'Well ... yes ...'

'You know for a spy, you're a terrible liar, Tiji.'

'So's he,' Tiji said, figuring she'd already put her foot in it, so she might as well have her say and be done with it.

'I beg your pardon?'

'Declan Hawkes,' she said. 'He's a terrible liar, too. He tries to pretend he doesn't care what you're up to, or that you're married to someone else, or what might have happened between you and the Immortal Prince, but he does. It eats him up inside.'

Arkady was silent, too shocked perhaps to respond.

Good one, Slinky. Now's when you find out she's best friends with an immortal because she really
is
an evil bitch who enjoys tormenting poor Crasii who've dared offend her ...

The duchess stared at her for a moment longer and then turned back to her packing. 'Pass me that shawl on the dresser, please.'

Worried by the abrupt change of subject, Tiji did as she was asked, waiting for the explosion she was sure must be coming any moment now.

'Would you ask Corianne and Valorey to make sure they're ready by the time the royal carriage gets here?' She was taking two human servants, Glaebans both, to serve her in the palace. The duchess was all business now, as if the conversation of a few moments ago had never taken place.

'Your grace ...'

'That will be all, Tiji.'

'I didn't mean to ...'

This time Arkady did look up. Her gaze was frosty, any glimmer of friendship Tiji might have once thought possible between them smothered by her presumptuousness.

'Didn't mean to
what,
Tiji? Offend me? Embarrass Declan? Insult my husband?'

She shrugged. 'I just thought ... maybe you didn't know ...'

Arkady seemed to debate something within herself for a moment. 'It's not me who's ignorant of the facts here, Tiji, it's you. I'm sure you're very loyal to your master, and I know he thinks highly of you, but don't you dare presume to know anything about my relationship with Declan Hawkes, what he thinks of me, or what I think of him.'

'I'm sorry, your grace, truly, I never meant to offend you.'

'I'm sure you didn't, Tiji. Just as I'm sure you're never going to bring this up again, are you?' 'Of course not, your grace.'

'Then do as I ask, please. Find Corianne and Valorey and tell them I expect them to be ready to leave within the hour. Once that is done, you may

make whatever arrangements you need to make to ensure your safe return to Glaeba. If you need money, speak to Dashin Deray. He'll see you have sufficient funds for the return journey.' 'You're sending me home?'

'Your work here is done,' Arkady said, folding the shawl and placing it on the pile she intended to pack. 'I'm sure Declan has more important things for you to do.'

Tiji debated arguing the point, but — even with diplomatic status — she was still a slave and not in a position to defy a direct order from an ambassador's wife. 'What did you want me to tell Declan when I get back?'

'What he sent you to Torlenia to find out. That his suspicions were correct. Chintara
is
the immortal Kinta, and she appears to be paving the way for the Lord of Reckoning to take control of the country, as soon as the Tide is sufficiently high for her to risk it. I have befriended her, and will find out what I can.'

'He knows that already. We sent him a letter telling him all of this. Your husband took it with him and promised to deliver it personally, remember?'

'Then I'm sure Declan has need of you in other areas.'

'But... if I leave, how will you get a message to him?' 'The same way I did before you arrived. I'll write to him.'

'Suppose your mail is intercepted by Kinta?'

'I'm a resourceful person, Tiji. I'm sure I'll find a way.'

Tiji shook her head, wishing her diplomatic status gave her more than the ability to flag down passing ships. 'Your grace, I really must object...'

'Object all you want,' Arkady said, her attention fixed on her packing. 'My mind is made up.'

Tides, why doesn't she get her servants to do that like any other noblewoman would, and pay attention* This is important.

'But if anything should happen to you ...'

'Then it won't be your fault. And you can tell Declan I said that.' Arkady straightened up and turned to face Tiji. 'You may go.'

'But...'

'I
said,
you may leave. Now.'

Defeated, and with no notion of how she was going to explain her dismissal to Declan when she got home, Tiji bowed to her mistress.

'To serve you is the reason I breathe, your grace.'

She turned on her heel and strode from the room, not waiting to see the human woman's reaction. She didn't need to. Arkady Desean was a smart woman. The Duchess of Lebec wouldn't mistake her meaning for anything other than the criticism is was meant to be.

To
serve you is the reason I breathe
is what all grovelling, spineless Crasii told their immortal masters, even when they were asked to do stupid, dangerous things that wouldn't help anybody.

Shrugging on the long-sleeved, hooded robe the slaves of Torlenia favoured, Tiji slipped out of the palace and went for a walk to cool her temper. She couldn't believe she was being sent home. She couldn't believe she'd been so foolish.

She couldn't imagine how she was going to explain this mess to Declan.

The area around the embassy was quiet; tree-lined streets and broad avenues where the cutthroat business of government and diplomacy took place beneath a veneer of tranquil civility. Tiji headed south, toward the markets, where the slaves of the city, human and Crasii alike, gathered to gossip and shop while on their masters' business. Tiji liked the Ramahn markets. They were full of strange sights and exotic smells and weird, haunting music from the countless Crasii buskers, who despite their

apparent poverty played strange stringed instruments carved out of buffalo horn, or polished ebony inlaid with mother of pearl.

Tiji had always been intrigued by the Torlenian capital, surprised at the diverse population. Every human race on Amyrantha seemed to be represented in this vast city, along with every Crasii she had ever seen or heard of, too.

Except there were no chameleon Crasii.

There were never any chameleon Crasii.

It was midmorning by the time she reached the markets. Already, some of the stall owners were closing up for the midday break. Almost everything but the taverns in Ramahn closed midmorning, reopening again midafternoon once the heat of the day had passed.

Tiji had no destination in mind. Not really. She'd spent much of the walk here replaying the conversation with Arkady Desean in her mind, trying to think of a way she could have handled it better. Or what she could do to fix things.

Not a lot,
she concluded. Tiji had crossed the fine line between servant and friend. She'd assumed Arkady would react to her comments about the supposed relationship between her and the spymaster the same way Declan did, which is to say he barely reacted at all. He would just automatically deny it and move on, without so much as missing a beat.

The Duchess of Lebec, however, wasn't as comfortable with the notion that someone knew or suspected there might be — or might once have been — something between her and Declan Hawkes. Pushing through the crush toward a stall selling the spicy strips of horsemeat jerky she'd developed a taste for since coming to Torlenia, Tiji wondered if that was because Arkady was genuinely offended by the idea, or if she'd inadvertently rubbed the scab off an old wound.

Maybe there really was something between them ...

Tiji froze, mid-stride, as she felt the taint of a suzerain. It was a fleeting contact, and one she'd been too preoccupied to pinpoint, but it was there, on the edge of her awareness.

Somewhere nearby, there was an immortal lurking.

All thoughts of what may or may not be going on between Declan Hawkes and Arkady Desean evaporated. Tiji closed her eyes, letting the crowd jostle around her, ignoring their curses, and let her senses roam out, searching for the source of the taint. It was hard to focus with the noise and the heat. When her search achieved nothing, she opened her eyes and looked around, standing on her toes to see over the heads of the other slaves, which proved pointless, because even on her toes, she only reached the shoulder of the average canine. Muttering a curse she pushed back against the flow of people. There was a tavern ahead. Cayal's Rest, the hanging sign announced in several languages. Tiji frowned.

Surely Brynden's not hiding down here in a tavern called Cayal's Rest?

Tiji pushed her way across the dusty market to the tavern, stopping when she reached the entrance. The taint was stronger here and there were no signs saying Crasii were forbidden. Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside, the taint of the suzerain almost overwhelming in the gloomy, confined space of the taproom.

She spied him immediately. Not Brynden, as she'd feared, but Cayal — the Immortal Prince himself — standing at the bar in the tavern named after him, nursing an amber-coloured glass tumbler of something potently alcoholic. Tiji could tell that by the smell of it, too, even from across the room.

She froze again, her natural instinct to take cover in camouflage taking over. It was a waste of time, of course, not only was she wearing a robe, which meant that was the camouflage her skin tried to emulate, she

was blocking the light from outside and not hiding her presence from anyone.

'Come in or go out,' the barman called to her. 'Don't just stand there blockin' the wretched door.'

'I'm looking for my master,' she said, glancing around the taproom as if she had a purpose here. 'He's a tall fellow. Missing his left ear.'

'Ain't seen anyone like that in here. You buyin' or leavin'?'

'Sorry to bother you, sir,' she said, bobbing a quick curtsey. Cayal hadn't even looked in her direction.

But then, why would he? Even when the Tide was at its peak, he couldn't tell a Scard from a Crasii.

Tiji fled the tavern and didn't stop for a whole block before she leaned up against the wall of a bakery, breathing hard.

Tides, Cayal is here.
She'd known he was in Ramahn, of course, but she'd never expected to run into him like this.

What should I do?

What would
Declan
want me to do?

The answer was easy. There was no question of what Declan would want her to do. What's more, now she'd been dismissed by Arkady Desean, she was free to do it.

Tiji would follow the Immortal Prince. Wherever he might lead.

CHAPTER 44

Tilly Ponting arrived in Herino for the funeral of Enteny and Inala and to bear witness to the coronation of the new King and Queen of Glaeba. More importantly, she arrived in time to host an emergency meeting of the Pentangle, the ruling body of the Cabal of the Tarot.

That she was helpless to stop the coronation of an immortal as Queen of Glaeba had visibly aged her, Declan thought when he arrived at her townhouse. She opened the door to him herself, not saying a word until they reached the parlour where Lord Deryon, Aleki Ponting, and Markun Far Jisa — the only Senestran member of the Pentangle — and another man Declan had never met before were waiting, gathered around the table. The stranger was Torlenian, Declan guessed, with pale eyes that didn't seem to fit in his dark skin; he looked to be in his thirties, and was a wealthy man, if his embroidered silk coat was anything to go by.

'I believe you know everyone, Declan,' Tilly said, indicating he should take a seat. 'Except Ryda Tarek.'