The Gods of Amyrantha (22 page)

The cabin was small, no more than two rooms, with a fireplace stained black by eons of soot and a scrubbed wooden table with a couple of stools either side of it. Every flat surface was cluttered with random bits of mining equipment, clay canisters for storing food, and the odd mouldy book lying about on the shelves.

The most astonishing thing about Maralyce's cabin wasn't the decor, however. It was the company she kept. Because sitting at the table nursing a mug of tea was Shalimar Hawkes, large as life, hale and hearty as Declan had ever seen him.

'See,' his grandfather said, addressing his remark to Maralyce. 'I told you he wouldn't go away.'

'Stubbornness always was a family trait,' Maralyce complained. And then she turned on Declan, who was standing by the open door, stunned into immobility by the sight of his grandfather. 'Don't just stand there

gawking like a fool, boy. Shut that wretched door. You're letting all the warmth out, and you already owe me one load of firewood before you leave. 'Less you're particularly fond of chopping wood, you'd better not make it two.' 'You're alive!'

'Sharp as a tack he is, too,' Maralyce remarked.

Shivering, Declan slammed the door shut, still staring with awestruck disbelief at his grandfather. He'd been so certain one of the graves by the trail had been the old man's final resting place. It was the reason he'd decided not to uncover the bodies and find out for certain.

'I... I saw the graves ... I thought...'

'That I was dead?' Shalimar laughed. 'Tides, Declan, didn't you bother to check? What sort of spymaster
are
you?'

Declan chose to ignore that. 'Who
is
buried down there, then?'

'Gang of hoodlums who found their way up here last spring,' Maralyce said, walking to the fire. She picked up the poker and began to stoke the coals into life.

'And you
killed
them?' If this was the Cabal's definition of a Tide Lord who looked favourably upon mortals, he was glad they hadn't sent him to deal with one who
didn't
like them.

'Killed themselves,' Maralyce said with a shrug. 'Damn fools should have known these mountains can turn on you when you least expect it. Found 'em after a storm. All lying about like they was asleep around a fire that was dead as a doorpost. Frozen solid, they were.'

'Where are the guards Aleki sent with you?' Declan asked his grandfather. 'Tilly claimed nobody had heard from you for months so we thought ... what do you mean
stubbornness always was a family trait?'
he demanded of Maralyce as it struck him, mid-sentence,

that such a comment betrayed a familiarity with his family that was both disturbing as well as downright impossible.

'You mean it's
not
a family trait?' Maralyce asked with a raised eyebrow.

Declan turned to his grandfather. 'What is going on here, Pop?'

'Nothing's going on,' Shalimar shrugged. 'The Cabal asked me to find Maralyce and I did.'

'You've known all along where she was,' he accused. Declan was tired, cold and hungry and this was simply too much to take in.

'Actually, I didn't,' Shalimar told him. 'I mean I always knew
roughly
where the mine was but we needed the details Arkady was able to provide before I could find it exactly.'

'Then how do you know Maralyce?' Declan demanded. 'She never leaves this place.'

'I
rarely
leave it, son,' the old woman corrected, lifting the hot kettle from the fire with her bare hands. 'But even I hunger for a bit of human company, every now and then, and these supplies don't appear by magic, you know.'

Declan's head swivelled between the pair of them for a moment as so many questions crowded his mind, clamouring for attention, he could barely think.

'How long have you known my grandfather?'

'All his life.'

Shalimar seemed amused by Declan's bewilderment. 'Tides, lad, think about it. How do you suppose I knew I was a Tidewatcher? I didn't just wake up one morning and decide I could feel the Tide returning.'

'Someone had to tell you what it was you could sense,' Declan concluded, cursing his own foolishness for not asking such a question sooner. He couldn't remember a time when he didn't know Shalimar was a Tidewatcher. It had never occurred to him to ask
how
Shalimar had learned about his gift. 'Tides ...

this is unbelievable. How long have you been visiting Lebec?'

'Longer than your grandfather's been alive,' Maralyce replied. 'Longer than his grandfather's grandfather, I'd say. You want some tea or are your lips normally that shade of blue?'

'I think I'd prefer something stronger.'

'I'm sure you would, but I ain't decided if I like you enough to offer it.'

'Then I'll take the tea.'

Maralyce topped up the pot on the table beside Shalimar, put the kettle back over the fire, and then took another chipped cup from the mantel, which she filled to the brim and pushed across the table.

'Sit down,' she commanded in a voice that brooked no argument.

Declan did as she ordered, taking a grateful sip of the tea. The warmth from the cup seeped through his frozen fingers. 'Are you going to tell me what's going on?' he asked his grandfather, as Maralyce sat herself down opposite him on the stool next to Shalimar.

His grandfather glanced at the immortal, almost as if he was seeking her permission to answer. Maralyce shrugged, as if it made no difference to her, which was enough, it seemed, for the old man. 'I first met Maralyce in Lebec when I was a child. She sought me out and warned me I was probably a Tidewatcher.'

'How did you know where to find him?' Declan asked the immortal.

'That's another story,' she replied, it'll do for you to know I knew what he was. It's irrelevant, for the purpose of this discussion, how I knew.'

'Anyway ...' Shalimar continued, clearly annoyed Declan had interrupted. 'On the odd occasion, over the years, Maralyce would stop by to check on me, although she never let on how I could find her if I needed to.'

'What need
was
there?' Maralyce grumbled, it was Low Tide.'

'It might have been nice to visit you once in a while,' Shalimar said.

'And have you bring the rest of the family along for the vacation? I don't think so.'

Shalimar smiled faintly, turning his attention back to Declan. 'As you can see, she's not the most sociable of creatures. Anyway, when the Cabal asked me to come here, Aleki insisted on sending along a couple of roughs, as if that made the slightest difference. I knew Maralyce wouldn't want them around and that Aleki would panic if I sent them home, so I concocted a rather elaborate tale about needing information on the goings on in Caelum and sent them packing about a month ago, with strict instructions to report back to me — and only me — at the end of summer with what they'd learned. We've arranged to meet at The Lone Travellers' Inn just outside of Cycrane a few weeks from now.'

'And that's why nobody's heard anything from any of you. Tilly is going out of her mind with worry, Pop.'

He shrugged. 'She should know better than to worry about me.'

'Who's Tilly?' Maralyce asked.

'The Guardian of the Lore,' Shalimar told her.

Declan put down his tea cup, staring at his grandfather in shock.

'What?'
the old man demanded, when he saw the look on Declan's face. 'Tides, boy, she's over ten thousand years old! You think she doesn't know about the Cabal?'

'You seem awfully keen to give up the identities of the Pentangle,' Declan accused. 'Maralyce is on our side.'

He glanced at the immortal warily, wishing he could talk to Shalimar alone. Everything about this was wrong. He wondered, for a moment, if the Tide was back sufficiently for Maralyce to warp his grandfather's mind. It didn't seem possible that Shalimar Hawkes,

whose hatred of the immortals poisoned everything he touched, should be sitting here sharing tea with a Tide Lord, like they were lifelong friends.

'I only have
your
word for that.'

Shalimar sighed heavily and then turned to Maralyce. 'Maybe you should tell him.'

'Why should I? He's your problem, old man, not mine.'

'Things will be easier if he knows the whole story.' 'You haven't told him already?' 'You asked me not to.'

'Told me what?' Declan asked, glaring at the two of them across the table.

She shook her head. 'I don't need to justify myself to some young stud who just happened to stumble onto my claim. You want him to know what happened? You tell him.'

'It'll sound better coming from you.'

'You spin a yarn better than anybody I know, Shalimar.'

'But I wasn't there,' the old man reminded her. 'You weren't
where?'
Declan demanded impatiently. 'At the death of Amyrantha's one true God,' Maralyce replied.

CHAPTER 21

Was a time we thought immortality was a gift. Some of us still do. Others ... well, some people just can't deal with forever. Makes 'em crazy.

Some, it makes crazier than others.

The first among us to lose his mind completely was Kentravyon. Your wretched Tarot calls him the Sleeper, doesn't it? Tides, you've no idea how true that is. Or the effort it took to make him that way.

I'll tell you this much, though — when a Tide Lord becomes completely detached from reality, nobody is safe, not even the immortals.

Kentravyon started out innocently enough. I'm not sure how he became immortal. Not all of us were made by that little bitch Diala and not all of us feel the need to make our origins known, either. The when doesn't matter anyway. Not now. Immortal is immortal.

He seemed a nice enough lad at the outset, as I recall. Quiet. Studious, even.

Course he was common-born like the rest of us, and plain to look at. His features were too rough to be handsome, but he wasn't particularly unattractive. Nondescript is the best way to describe him, I suppose. He never cut the dashing figure Cayal or Jaxyn or Tryan did, with their pretty-boy looks or their highborn manners and their unshakeable belief in the value of their own opinions. Of the three, I've always thought Jaxyn is the worst offender, but then, I suspect he was an arrogant ass
before
he was made immortal.

Tryan's a petulant fool who's never been able to wander far from his wretched mother. And Cayal ... well, he was well-intentioned enough in the beginning. Still is, on occasion, which is most of his problem and could account for why he wants to die.

But I'm getting off the topic. I know you think we're all evil monsters and I suppose, from where you sit, we are. But it's not that simple. Truth is, until we run afoul of each other, we're a fairly benign bunch.

Oh, I know you'll disagree. You'll start reminding me about how as soon as the Tide turns one or other of the immortals always ends up trying to rule the world — or a fair portion of it — but that's just because when you've lived as long as we have, you've seen it all before. You've not the energy left to watch some power-hungry, ambitious human megalomaniac scrabble for power, in the mistaken belief that only he can make a better world.

It's quicker, easier and less trouble, sometimes, just to do it yourself.

Kentravyon, now ... he just went a little too far. So far, in fact that the rest of us felt compelled to put an end to him. Permanently. Or least as permanently as you can stop a Tide Lord.

The trouble started, as it usually does, with the turning of the Tide.

We didn't always hide out during Low Tides. Was a time we used to brag about our immortality. Course, it didn't pay to perform too many miracles — as Kentravyon discovered — even when the Tide was up, because people started to expect them and then it got a bit sticky during Low Tide, when you couldn't produce the goods.

Anyway, it all began innocently enough. Kentravyon and Lyna were a couple in those days. Lyna's a nice girl, although I'm not sure what she ever saw in Kentravyon. She used to be a whore, you know, back before she was immortal. Worked in the same

brothel as Syrolee. I always thought him a bit dull for her tastes. A bit too intense, too serious, to warrant her attention.

Maybe the rumour about him saving her from a mob of crazy mortals bent on putting every plausible method of disposing of us to the test was true. I heard a story that Lyna was captured by the Holy Warriors once and they'd used her to test their theories. I don't know for certain, but they always seemed an odd couple to me.

They set themselves up in the northern hemisphere. The place is split into two nations now, you call them Caelum and Glaeba. Back then everyone just called the land Corcora.

Kentravyon's reign began as a religion, naturally. It's the best way to bend any population to your will. You can conquer a country if you have the mind to. But that takes an army and it takes money, resources and a great deal of energy, and even when you've won, you have to fight to hang on to it. Empires are such hard work. Religions are far more efficient. You own more than a man's body when he believes you're divine. You own his heart and soul, and that'll win out over brute force, any day.