He leaned back on an elbow. “So what am I supposed to say? Yes, it’s true. There’s a prophecy. Actually no, it’s more like a thousand prophecies. It’s the collected rantings of a thousand people, the demons possessing them, and whole orders of scholars have spent centuries trying to pull any kind of coherent meaning from them. Relos Var and his lord, Duke Kaen of Yor, believe the prophecies refer to an end time, a great cataclysm, when a single man of vast evil will rise up. The ‘Hellwarrior’ will conquer the Manol, strip the vané of our immortality, kill the Emperor, destroy the Empire of Quur, and free the demons. In his right hand he will hold Urthaenriel, and with his left, he will crush the world and remake it as he desires.” Teraeth sipped at his cup. “Presumably by wiping away the old gods and replacing them with himself, as is tradition.”
“Sounds like a sweetheart.” My mouth suddenly felt dry. “So it’s that kind of prophecy.” I thought back to my dream of Taja, and the dark wave she had shown me. Everything falls.
“Indeed.”
“So, who is this prophesied creep? Relos Var?”
“Duke Kaen seems to think that he is, as you put it, ‘this prophesied creep.’ Since Relos Var is his most trusted servant, Var’s working very hard to make Kaen’s grand vision a reality. Which mainly involves finding Urthaenriel. After all, if your goal is to be the prophesied tyrant who will kill all the gods, you probably need the only weapon that’s ever successfully pulled that off.”
“So where do I come in? I don’t know where Urthaenriel is. Shouldn’t Relos Var be asking Emperor Sandus?”
Teraeth grinned. “It’s all about you, isn’t it? Did you ever stop to wonder if it’s all about me?” He put a hand to his chest. “I prefer to believe it’s all about me.”
I flicked a thumb and forefinger against Teraeth’s shoulder. “Fine. It’s all about you. Jerk. Where’s Urthaenriel, since you know so much?”
“Last time I saw it?” He shrugged in a lopsided way. “Falling to the floor of the Manol Jungle, but I assume some Quuros emperor has collected it since then, which means that it’s probably locked away in one of the vaults in the middle of the Culling Fields Arena, safely out of reach of Kaen, Relos Var, or anyone else who might want it. Thank the gods.”
“Good,” I said. The idea honestly did make me feel better. “Still, I wish I knew why Relos Var hated me so much.”
“I wouldn’t make such a wish if I were you. Someone might decide to grant it.”
I drained the rest of my mulled wine and set the cup aside. “There’s no curse worse than a granted wish, huh? Doesn’t mean I don’t want to know.” I started to stand.
Teraeth touched the back of my hand. “Hey. Stay with me tonight. I know you’ve had a hard time of it, and this can’t be easy for you. I owe you an apology. Let me make it up to you. I promise I can be very considerate.”
I froze. Absolutely froze in exactly the way I had with Kalindra. The flashbacks from Xaltorath hit me so hard I clenched my jaw to fight back bile. I jerked my hand from his.
Teraeth blinked, and then the bastard looked hurt. “I meant no offense.”
I rubbed my wrist as I looked at anyone but Teraeth. I wasn’t the only person in the area who was being propositioned for a bit of fun, but unlike me, it didn’t seem like anyone else was refusing. This was minutes, if not seconds, from turning into something I’d be embarrassed about. I was still not ready. Not with Teraeth. Especially not with Teraeth.
“It’s not you. It’s—” I couldn’t reconcile what I was feeling. Shame? Dread?
Teraeth studied my face. “I killed Juval too quickly.”
“No, it’s not…” I inhaled. I didn’t want to explain. I didn’t want to stop and explain while all this was going on around us. I didn’t want to ever explain Xaltorath. Would Teraeth feel sorry for me? Have pity? Teraeth would want to fix it, and there was no fixing this.
I stepped back. “Do you know where Tyentso is? Can I see her?”
“I don’t see why not. She turned down my invitation too.” He pointed down one of the jungle paths. “You’ll find her on the beach.”
I fled as quickly as my feet would take me.
30: FAMILY REUNION
(Talon’s story)
The Bath of Petals was the largest bathhouse Kihrin had ever seen. He’d been forced to yell to keep the bath attendants—clearly used to performing all manner of services not directly related to cleanliness—from putting their hands all over him. Finally, the woman in charge snorted and shooed the others away. She proceeded to handle him with the same brisk, matter-of-fact care fishwives give laundry being pounded on a rock. Her attention wasn’t the slightest bit provocative—the massage was more like a mauling—so he found her touch tolerable. Afterward, the servants poured something into his scalp that took the dye out of his hair. They trimmed and braided it, and pulled it off his face with expensive gold pins shaped like hawks with sapphire eyes. He was clipped, combed, perfumed, and dressed in the finest clothes, until he was shaking from the idea that Darzin might have saved him for a darker purpose than he’d originally imagined.
Valrazi, the Captain of the House Guard, showed up soon after with a dozen armed soldiers. Valrazi was one of those men who, although in reality very short, was in attitude very tall. He seemed quite competent, and Kihrin thought it was probably inadvisable to make trouble with him purely for its own sake. He went with them without fuss.
He was escorted down long avenues and past graceful colonnades—still inside the Private Court, he reminded himself—until they reached a sculpted garden of tall trees and beautiful flowering hedges, surrounding a long bathing pool. Over a dozen naked women, all young and beautiful (if as varied in color as the flowers in the garden), sported with each other in the water. In an alcove to one side, musicians played a soft air on a double-strung harp and sarod.
Kihrin wondered if they were with the Revelers Guild.
The paving of the garden path led to a crossroads in front of the pool, where a table sat covered with blue linen and a gold breakfast setting. A servant, dressed in bright blue, hovered to the side with a serving cart. There were two chairs: Darzin sat in the one with the best view of the women.
Kihrin stared malevolently. Finally, he shrugged, squared his shoulders, and marched over to the prince. Darzin glanced up and smiled to Kihrin’s right. “Thank you for bringing him, Captain. You may go.”
“Yes, Your Highness. You’re welcome.”
Kihrin heard footsteps as the Captain turned on his heels and left.
“Kihrin, so nice to see you up and about. Sit with me. Eat your breakfast and enjoy the view. You must be hungry.”
Kihrin ignored the invitation. “What do you want with me?”
“Right now, I want you to have breakfast.” Darzin gestured toward the other chair. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. I’d thought we’d lost you back there.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have sent assassins.”
Darzin laughed and popped a cherry tomato into his mouth.
“What did you do with Ola?”
The prince sighed and leaned back farther. His gaze was contemplative. “We must catch up on years of training. One of the first lessons you will have to learn is to avoid asking questions like that. It lets other people know who you care about. And caring about people gives power to anyone willing to use your loved ones against you.”
“Is that why you killed my father?”
“He wasn’t your father,” Darzin corrected.
“He was the only father I ever knew, and you had him murdered.”
“A mistake,” Darzin said with a shrug, as if he were discussing an accounting problem.